Owen dug into his pancakes, eggs, and bacon and sighed with happiness. “Are you sure you don’t want me or Silvio to go with you?” he mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Or Liam Carter?”
I shook my head. “Nope, this is a bridal shower, so ladies only. Besides, Mallory, Roslyn, Bria, and Lorelei will be there. We’ll be fine.”
A concerned looked creased Silvio’s face. “The last time you, Mallory, Roslyn, Bria, and Lorelei went somewhere, Emery Slater kidnapped three of you from the Posh boutique.”
I sat down at the table with my own breakfast plate. “That was before I knew Emery was back in town. Now that I know she’s lurking around, I can take precautions. Besides, not even Emery is stupid enough to attack all of us at once, especially not when Mallory has invited so many people to her shower—very rich and important people who will have their own bodyguards cooling their heels in the parking lot.”
Owen swallowed some orange juice. “What about the ledger?”
“We’ll start looking for it again after the bridal shower,” I said.
He nodded and drank some more juice. Silvio kept eyeing me with suspicion, so I steered the conversation to other topics, mainly Mallory and Mosley’s wedding.
We finished breakfast, and Silvio drove us into the city. Silvio and I dropped off Owen at his office building, then headed over to the Pork Pit. I got started on the day’s cooking, while Silvio pulled out his phone and used it to check his reflection and make sure his tie was perfectly in place, along with his gray hair.
“Got a hot lunch date?” I teased.
“No,” he said in a defensive tone. “Can’t I just want to look my best?”
“Sure,” I drawled. “But Liam won’t be in today. Mason’s already threatened me here, so there was no reason for Liam to come to the restaurant, especially since I’ll be gone most of the afternoon. I texted and told him to focus on security for the wedding, so I’m afraid the next chapter in your epic love story will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“It’s not a love story,” Silvio grumbled.
“Not yet.” I grinned. “But soon, I imagine, given how you were flirting with him on the phone last night.”
A faint pink blush streaked across Silvio’s cheekbones, and he shifted on his stool. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”
I laughed, but I’d teased him enough, so I returned to my prep work.
Sophia, Catalina, and the rest of the waitstaff came in, and I opened the restaurant. I worked through the lunch rush, and then Silvio drove me over to Northern Aggression, Roslyn’s nightclub.
Despite its Northtown location, the outside of the club was largely plain and featureless, except for the neon sign over the front door—a heart with an arrow running through it. At night, the neon sign would burn red, yellow, and orange, but it was dark now, since it was only two in the afternoon. Someone, Roslyn most likely, had wrapped blue and silver streamers around the sign and had taped white paper wedding bells and hearts around the club’s entrance to mark it as the bridal shower location.
Silvio peered through the windshield at the steady stream of women heading inside. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”
“Nope,” I said, pointing out Bria’s sedan. “See? Bria’s already here, and she’s going to give me a ride back to the Pork Pit or back home, depending on how long the shower runs. I know you’re worried about Mason and Emery, but I’ll be fine, Silvio.”
Worry creased his face, and he gave me a disbelieving look.
“Trust me. The only danger here is what will happen once the debutantes, society ladies, and grand dames get liquored up.” I paused. “I wouldn’t want to be the stripper who has to deal with them.”
Silvio blanched. “Lorelei hired a stripper for her grandmother’s bridal shower?”
“Nope.” I grinned. “Mallory hired the stripper. Picked him out herself from the nightclub staff, according to Roslyn.”
He shook his head. “Try not to get too wild in there.”
“I make no such promises.”
I grinned at him again, then grabbed a gift bag from the backseat, got out of the car, and headed toward the nightclub.
During the evening, a long line of people would have been waiting to get into Northern Aggression, but since this was a private daytime event, I gave my name and showed my driver’s license to the giant bouncers guarding the entrance. Once they cleared me, I went into the club. Two more giants were waiting at a podium inside, and they checked my name and ID a second time before letting me pass. After what had happened at the Posh boutique, Mallory and Roslyn weren’t taking any chances with their guests’ safety.
I stepped inside the large room that served as the heart of Northern Aggression. A dance floor surrounded by tables and chairs, booths along the back wall, a long bar made of glittering elemental Ice with shelves full of liquor bottles and glasses gleaming behind it. The inside of the club looked the same as always, but Roslyn had dressed it up for the shower.
White, blue, and silver streamers were hanging from the ceiling, along with matching paper wedding bells and enormous banners boasting the words Mallory + Stuey = True Love. White cloths covered the tables, along with centerpieces of white, blue, and purple orchids and blue candles burning inside glass jars. Silver heart-shaped confetti had been sprinkled down the length of the elemental Ice bar, adding even more sparkle to the festivities.
More than a hundred women in pretty dresses and power pantsuits were milling around, and tuxedo-clad waiters were already circulating through the crowd, offering everything from tiny cucumber sandwiches and bite-size almond-flavored wedding cakes to glasses of champagne and shots of whiskey. High society meets hard liquor.
Mallory was holding court on a stool near the center of the bar. A large blue-crystal tiara was perched on her snow-white hair, while a blue sash adorned with the words Here Comes the Bride in glittery silver letters was slung across her chest.
Lorelei was sitting beside her grandmother, along with Roslyn. Bria was standing nearby and chatting with another group of women.
I headed over to Mallory, Roslyn, and Lorelei. “And how is the blushing bride-to-be?”
Mallory airily waved her glass of champagne at me. “I’m far too old to blush, Gin. Although this champagne is making me giggle. Just a little, though.”
I started to tell her that champagne always made me want to sneeze, but Mallory let out one of those little giggles, then turned to Roslyn and hugged her tight.
“Roslyn!” she squealed. “You planned such a lovely party! Ladies, let’s give Roslyn a big round of applause!”
The polite applause quickly turned into a round of loud, enthusiastic woo-hoos! Some of the ladies had already had a little too much champagne and whiskey. I grinned, left Mallory to her friends, and put my blue gift bag on the table reserved for presents at the far end of the bar.
Lorelei trailed after me. “What did you get her?”
“A couple’s spa weekend in Cypress Mountain. I figured Mallory and Mosley could use a nice, relaxing getaway after everything that’s happened over the last few months.”
“You mean my evil brother Raymond Pike coming to Ashland and trying to murder me? Or Alanna Eaton trying to kill Mosley? Or you, me, and Bria getting kidnapped from the Posh boutique the other day?” Lorelei ticked off our recent greatest hits one by one on her fingers.
I shrugged. “Take your pick.”
She snorted, flagged down a passing waiter, and grabbed a napkin and a couple of cakes off his tray. I checked my watch.
Lorelei caught the motion. “What are you up to, Gin?”
“What do you mean?” I asked in my lightest, brightest, most innocent I’m-not-doing-shit voice.
Her blue eyes narrowed, and she moved her finger through the air, as though she was drawing a circle over my face. “We’ve known each other long enough for me to realize when you’re up to something. Besides, you actually came to the shower.”
“So
? I wanted to help celebrate Mallory’s big day.”
“So you should be looking for Mason Mitchell’s ledger. Not wasting time here watching Mallory and her society friends get sauced. Ergo, you’re up to something.”
“Did you just use ergo in a sentence?”
Lorelei sniffed. “Of course. I have mad vocabulary skills.” She speared me with a sharp, knowing gaze. “Now, what are you up to, Gin?”
Bria walked over to us, saving me from answering, and deposited her own gift bag on the table.
“It’s a silver heart locket for Mallory and a set of matching cuff links for Mosley,” Bria said, seeing Lorelei’s curious look. “I bought them online from a shop in Cloudburst Falls and had them engraved with their names and the wedding date.”
Lorelei smiled. “How thoughtful. Grandma will love that. And your spa weekend, Gin.”
“What did you get them?” Bria asked.
Lorelei waved her hand at another gift bag. “A ski trip to Snowline Ridge.”
Someone called Lorelei’s name, and she went over to talk to the other woman. I jerked my head, and Bria and I sidled away from them.
“Are you ready?” Bria whispered.
Last night, after I had decoded Fletcher’s message, I had texted Bria and told her my plan for finding the ledger. The first step was sneaking out of Mallory’s bridal shower.
“I’m ready. Follow my lead, and look casual.”
I meandered over toward the bar, smiling and nodding at the folks I passed, as though I was on my way to get a drink so I could start boozing it up with everyone else. Bria trailed along in my wake, as though she too were going to get a drink. Eventually, the two of us wandered down the length of the bar, crossed the dance floor, and reached the club’s back wall. I opened a door there, and Bria and I slipped through to the other side.
I quickly shut it behind us and waited, but no one knocked or opened the door. It didn’t seem like anyone had spotted us, so I led Bria through the hallways until we reached the club’s rear exit. We slipped through that door and stepped out into a parking lot littered with potholes. I glanced around, but no one was sneaking a smoke by the trash cans, so I crept over to the side of the building. Bria followed me.
I peered around the nightclub, staring into the main parking lot in front. A lone black SUV was sitting by itself at the far edge of the space, three hundred feet from the club entrance. The vehicle hadn’t been there when Silvio dropped me off. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see who was inside, but I was betting it was Emery Slater and some more giants. Mallory’s shower had also been announced in the newspaper, and it seemed the giant had decided to stake it out, probably so she could try to kill me again when I left.
I wondered how Emery had explained the loss of her two giants last night to Mason. No doubt, she’d blamed me for their deaths, although I doubted she’d told Mason that she’d tried to murder me before I found his ledger.
“Emery?” Bria asked, also spotting the SUV.
“Probably. Let’s go before she gets the bright idea to have someone watch the back of the building.”
Bria and I slipped away from the nightclub, crossed the street, and headed into a nearby alley. I looked around the corner, but the black SUV didn’t move from its position in the Northern Aggression parking lot. Emery must have thought we were still inside the club. Good.
I led Bria to the far end of that alley and through two more, until we reached an old white van parked on one of the side streets. The alley was deserted, so I cautiously approached the vehicle. I peered in through the driver’s-side window, but the interior was empty, so I crouched down. No bombs or tracking devices had been attached to the undercarriage, and I didn’t sense any elemental magic emanating from the vehicle. A relieved sigh escaped my lips.
Unbeknownst to Silvio and Owen, I had texted Liam Carter this morning, left him a set of van keys under the front-porch mat at Fletcher’s house, and told him to bring the vehicle here. Liam had agreed without asking any questions. Then again, that was part of what I was paying him for.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, getting to my feet and pulling my own keys out of my pocket. “You don’t have to come. You know how dangerous this is.”
Bria shook her head. “And that’s precisely why I’m coming. Someone needs to watch your back, and given where we’re going, that someone should be me.”
I flashed her a grateful smile. I was hoping she would say that, which was one of the reasons I’d filled her in on my plan.
We both got into the van, and a minute later, we were zooming toward our destination—and, I hoped, the missing ledger.
* * *
It didn’t take me long to navigate through the Northtown streets. Fifteen minutes later, my van cruised past the closed iron gate that fronted the Ashland Historical Association. I drove past the grounds at a steady speed, as though I was just passing through, although I eyed the landscape the whole time.
According to the association’s website, the mansion and grounds were closed to the public during the winter months, and I didn’t see any guards loitering around the gate. But Emery had said she’d installed signal jammers and surveillance cameras in and around the mansion, and she would probably get an alert if anyone came near the structure who wasn’t supposed to be there.
I kept driving until I came to another, much smaller mansion about a mile down the road. No iron gate fronted this property, and a For Sale sign adorned the lawn, so I pulled into the driveway and parked. Bria and I watched the house, but no one came outside to see who we were and what we wanted. I also reached out with my magic, but the stones’ murmurs were soft and muted, as though no one had lived in this mansion in several months. The place was empty. Perfect.
Bria and I grabbed a couple of duffel bags of supplies, headed into the woods on the back side of the mansion, and hiked over to the historical association property. I looked for cameras mounted in the trees, but I didn’t see any, and it didn’t take us long to reach the edge of the woods. We both stopped and peered at the Mitchell family mansion in the distance.
A couple of black SUVs were parked in the front driveway. Looked like Mason and his men were here after all. My gaze lingered on the baby-blue sports car also sitting in the driveway. And they had company.
Worry swirled through me, but I pushed it down. My mission was out here, and I couldn’t do anything about whatever was happening inside the mansion.
“Can you believe our father grew up here?” Bria asked. “After not knowing anything about him for so long, seeing his childhood home seems surreal, like something out of a dream. When Mason told us they lived here, I half expected Tristan to come striding through the door. Weird, I know.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I don’t think it’s weird. Every time I see Mason, I keep thinking that’s exactly what Tristan would look like if he was still alive. It’s like staring at a monster who’s wearing our father’s face. I hate it. And I especially hate Mason for taking Dad away from us, and Mom and Annabella too.”
Bria squeezed my hand back. “Then let’s find the ledger and use it to make the bastard pay.”
I nodded, and we moved on. Instead of heading toward the mansion, we moved away from it toward our ultimate destination.
The Circle family cemetery.
Bria and I hunkered down at the edge of the woods and peered out into the cemetery. I didn’t see any surveillance cameras or motion sensors mounted to the trees, but their absence didn’t surprise me. Emery probably didn’t think there was anything here worth stealing—but I knew better.
I reached out with my Stone magic again, listening to the rocks hidden in the grass, along with the tombstones, crosses, and other markers, but they only murmured of the wind, the weather, and the steady march of time that was slowly wearing them down.
“We’re clear,” I whispered.
Bria nodded, and we got to our feet and stepped into the cemetery.
I ignor
ed the rows of graves and headed for the pavilion in the center. I glanced around again, making sure we were still alone, then walked up the steps, crossed the open space, and went over to my father’s tomb. My soft footsteps seemed to boom as loud as cracks of thunder in the pavilion, but I pushed my unease aside. Bria stepped up beside me, and we both studied the tomb.
Up close, the gray slabs of stone were much plainer than I expected. A band of vines and flowers lined the base of the tomb, and the same pattern curled up all four corners before forming another band around the lid. A panel on the side featured the dates of my father’s birth and death, along with his full name—Tristan Horatio Mitchell—carved in fancy cursive letters. There was no mention of him being a beloved husband, father, or brother. Not here.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk much over the past few days,” I said. “How are you handling things?”
“You mean the fact that our families, the Mitchells and the Snows, are responsible for decades of evil in Ashland, dating back to when the town was founded?” Bria shook her head, making her blond ponytail slap against her shoulders. “I don’t know what to think about that, and I don’t know how to feel, other than disappointed. Although I wonder…”
“What?”
She gestured out at the rest of the cemetery. “I wonder what would have happened if Eira had lived and Tristan too. If they had just gone along with Mason. I wonder if we would have grown up in that world, if we would have been part of the Circle. The next generation dutifully carrying on the family legacy, no matter how awful, twisted, and evil it is.”
“I don’t know, but I hope not. Maybe that’s why Mom and Dad tried to destroy the Circle. Maybe that’s why they tried to expose Mason. So that you, me, and Annabella wouldn’t have to carry on that legacy.”
“That’s what I hope too,” Bria said in a low, sad voice. “It’s the only thing that’s kept me going, but I guess we’ll never know for sure.”
Sharpest Sting: An Elemental Assassin Book Page 22
