Sharpest Sting: An Elemental Assassin Book

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Sharpest Sting: An Elemental Assassin Book Page 30

by Jennifer Estep


  Silvio’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to use him for information. That’s why you had Jo-Jo save him.”

  I stared down at the unconscious vampire. “Absolutely. As soon as he’s better, Hugh Tucker is going to tell me everything he knows about the Circle.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After that, we all got busy. Well, my friends got busy. I lounged on a salon chair beside Tucker, resting and getting my strength back while we hashed out our next moves.

  Crisis or not, everyone had jobs, friends, and family members that needed attention. Everyone agreed to be careful and to keep up the buddy system we’d employed so far.

  I thought my friends would be safe enough for the time being. According to Silvio and Finn, none of their sources had seen Mason, Emery, or the giants since they had fled from the Circle cemetery. My uncle and his minions were out there somewhere, regrouping, just like we were. It would probably be a while before our next clash, but I still warned everyone to be vigilant in the meantime.

  Owen, Finn, and Bria all needed to swing by their respective offices and check on various things, so they left together. Mallory and Mosley stepped outside to pull Mosley’s car closer to the house, so that Tucker could be transported over to my shipping container. Jo-Jo and Silvio went to help the two dwarves, but Lorelei stayed in the salon, staring down at Tucker, an unreadable expression on her face. I went over and stood beside her.

  “It’s okay to like him,” I said. “He is nothing if not interesting.”

  She jerked back, as though I had slapped her across the face. “Me? Like him? Hugh Tucker, your hated nemesis?” She let out a bitter laugh, then shook her head, making her black braid flap against her shoulders. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I did that.”

  “You’ve been an amazing friend,” I said in a firm voice. “You came to rescue me, and you helped Jo-Jo save me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and everyone else. Including him.”

  I jerked my head at the unconscious vampire. “He saved me too, and I can’t forget that, no matter how much I might want to. So you have my blessing. No matter what happens between the two of you.”

  Lorelei’s face softened. She nodded at me, and I returned the gesture.

  Jo-Jo and Silvio came inside, scooped up Tucker, and carried him out to the car. Then Jo-Jo went with Lorelei, Mallory, and Mosley to get the vampire settled in his new accommodations. That left Silvio and me in the salon.

  Silvio was still standing at the counter and typing away on his laptop, and I was on one of the couches, trying to take a little catnap, although the staccato stab-stab-stab-stab of his fingers on the keyboard was making it difficult. A phone chirped, and Silvio glared at the device, which was lying on the counter next to his elbow.

  “Why don’t you answer that?” I asked.

  “Because it’s not my phone. It’s your phone,” he replied in an annoyed voice. “Roslyn brought it over while you were sleeping this morning. She found it in Mallory’s suite with the rest of your things.”

  He gestured at a large brown paper bag sitting on the counter, and I went over and looked inside. Roslyn had packed up my regular clothes, shoes, and everything else I’d taken to the country club yesterday, along with the two knives I’d thrown down onto the ballroom dance floor when the giants captured me. I tucked the weapons up my sleeves and made a mental note to thank Roslyn for retrieving them.

  My phone chirped again, and Silvio eyed the device like he wanted to break it apart with his bare hands.

  “Problems?” I drawled.

  “Your phone has been beeping every fifteen minutes or so. Someone keeps texting you, although I can’t see who because your phone is locked.”

  I grinned. “Ah. You’re upset because I changed my password, and you can’t snoop on my device anymore.”

  Silvio sniffed. “It’s not snooping, per se. I consider it part of my duties as your assistant to check your messages.”

  My phone chirped again. Silvio rolled his eyes, grabbed the device, and shoved it into my hand.

  “Answer it, and tell whoever that is to knock off their incessant messaging,” he growled. “It’s driving me crazy.”

  He returned to his laptop, and I unlocked the phone with my new password—BarbecueIsForever. I scrolled through the text messages, but they were all variations on the same theme.

  You still alive?

  A relieved breath escaped my lips, and a tight knot of tension loosened in my chest. Even better, those relentless, paranoid sharks finally stopped swimming around in the watery tank of worry in my stomach.

  I texted back. Still alive. Need to meet. Salon.

  I sent the message and waited for the reply. My phone beeped less than a minute later.

  On my way.

  I put my phone away and looked at Silvio. “Come on. Let’s make some hot chocolate and sit on the porch.”

  He frowned, wondering what I was up to, but he headed into the kitchen. I rifled through the things Roslyn had brought to the salon, plucked something out of my purse, and slid it into my pocket. Then I went into the kitchen to make the hot chocolate.

  Thirty minutes later, Silvio and I were out on the front porch. My assistant settled himself in one of the rocking chairs, with a blanket over his lap to ward off the chill, but I sat down on the steps where I’d had that long-ago conversation with Fletcher.

  Being in this spot made me feel close to him again. Fletcher had given me some good advice back then, maybe the most important advice he’d ever shared, and I was going to follow it to the letter from here on out. Because being smarter than Mason was the only way I was going to beat my uncle at his own game.

  Silvio and I hadn’t been outside long, maybe five minutes, when a baby-blue sports car cruised up the hill and parked in Jo-Jo’s driveway. The driver got out and walked over to the front porch.

  Liam Carter.

  Sometime since the cemetery fight, Liam had showered and changed into a fresh navy suit. Curiously enough, he was holding a box of gourmet chocolates under his arm.

  Silvio snarled, shot to his feet, and started across the porch. I stood up and grabbed his arm, stopping the vampire from launching himself at the other man.

  “You bastard!” Silvio hissed. “How dare you show your face here!”

  “Hey! Hey!” I said. “It’s okay. I asked Liam to come.”

  My words sank in, and Silvio frowned at me. “What? Why would you do that? He changed sides. He sold you out. He helped Emery Slater kidnap you!”

  “Yes, he did,” I replied. “But Liam isn’t working for Emery or Mason. Not really. He works for me.”

  Silvio blinked and blinked, glancing from me to Liam and back again. “But…but he shot you. And he shot at me. And his men planted those rune bombs on the ballroom doors to keep us from going after you.”

  Liam shrugged. “Sorry about that. I had to make it look good.” He cleared his throat, stepped forward, and held out the box in his hand to the vampire. “But I brought you some apology chocolates. Your favorite kind. The ones you mentioned on the phone the other night.”

  Silvio stared at the box, then whirled around and stabbed his finger at me. “Explain yourself, Gin. Right now.”

  “When we first saw Mason at the Eaton Estate a few weeks ago, I could feel how strong he was in his magic, and I knew I couldn’t beat him elemental-to-elemental. Not only that, but I realized I needed more information about Mason, his magic, and how the Circle works. So I decided to try to plant someone in Mason’s organization, someone inside the Circle who could give me that information.”

  “Reverse Trojan Horse,” Liam said in a helpful voice. “Well, maybe just Regular Trojan Horse in this case.”

  I nodded. “Something like that.”

  Silvio frowned again. “What are you two talking about?”

  “I’ll explain it later,” I said. “Once I killed those two giants at Blue Ridge Cemetery, I knew it was just a matter of time before Mason realized that I�
�d offed his men and came after me and everyone I care about. So I decided to hire Liam for protection.”

  Understanding dawned in Silvio’s eyes. “But not for protection. Not really. You wanted Mason to steal Liam away, so you could finally have your inside man.”

  “Yep. I knew Mason had taken the bait when I saw Liam’s car at the historical association mansion when Bria and I dug up the ledger in the Circle cemetery.”

  “I just pretended to let Mason woo me over to the dark side,” Liam added. “I met with him that afternoon, hemmed and hawed a bit, and then took the bribe he offered me to betray Gin.”

  I looked at Liam. “Although I have to confess that you had me going at the wedding. I didn’t know whose side you were really on. At least, not until after you shot me. Even then, I still had some doubts.”

  Silvio threw up his hands. “And how did that prove Liam was on your side?”

  “Because Liam is an expert marksman,” I replied. “He could have easily incapacitated me with that shot, but it was only a through-and-through. The damage was minimal. Besides, I told Liam, if he had to shoot someone, to make sure it was me.”

  My assistant sighed and shook his head. “If anyone else said that, I would say they were crazy. But that sort of warped logic makes perfect sense for you, Gin.”

  I shrugged. We both knew I would rather take a bullet, literally, than let any of my friends do it.

  Silvio turned back to the other man. “But you shot at me too,” he accused.

  “I had to make it look good,” Liam repeated. “The reception was a test. Mason didn’t trust me then, and I knew that firing at you and wounding Gin would help sell the illusion that I was on his side.”

  “That bullet whizzing by my head didn’t feel like an illusion,” Silvio growled. “And I’m certain the one punching into Gin’s arm didn’t either.”

  “I know, but it couldn’t be helped. That’s why I brought apology chocolates.” Liam glanced at me. “Sorry, Gin. They only had one box at the store.”

  I shrugged again. Liam’s loyalty was far more valuable than a box of sweets.

  “I really am sorry about the wedding,” he continued. “I didn’t know Emery and her men were going to kidnap you until they showed up. Given the time crunch, it was all I could do to figure out how to mostly defuse the rune bombs she brought along.”

  I’d figured as much, and Liam had made the right choice, trying to protect the innocent guests.

  He held the box of chocolates out to Silvio again. After a few seconds, the vampire grudgingly took it.

  “Just because I’m accepting these doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Silvio snapped. “One lousy box of chocolates doesn’t even begin to make up for what you did.”

  Liam grinned. “Well, then, I look forward to making it up to you the rest of the way.”

  Silvio snorted at his flirting, then looked at me. “Nor does it make up for keeping me in the dark and all your other reckless, stupid actions. Mason almost killed you, Gin.”

  Yes, he almost did, which was something I didn’t want to dwell on right now. I’d have plenty of nightmares to remind me.

  “But Mason didn’t kill me, and we all live to fight another day.” I turned to Liam. “Does he trust you now?”

  Liam nodded. “I think so. I put him up in one of my safe houses last night, although Emery moved him this morning. She definitely doesn’t trust me, and she doesn’t like me bending her boss’s ear, but I’ve got my foot in the door.”

  “Good. Why don’t you go inside and have some hot chocolate? You and Silvio can talk about how to set up a secure communication method and a regular meeting schedule. I want to know everything Mason does.”

  Liam turned to Silvio, and a grin slowly spread across his face. “What do you say, Silvy? Coffee date?”

  The vampire shuddered a little, as though those words had a bad connotation, but he sighed. “Fine. Although you do realize that we’re only going to be even when I get to shoot at you.”

  Liam’s grin widened. “You say the sweetest things.”

  Silvio huffed, but they went inside the house. I waited until their footsteps had faded away, then sat back down on the top step again. Now that I was alone, I scooted over to the side where my spider rune was. When Fletcher had first carved the symbol, it had been rough, raw, and jagged, but the passage of time had smoothed it out until it was little more than a faint mark in the wood.

  I traced my fingers over the rune and smiled, thinking of the old man. Then I glanced around, making sure I was still alone. When I was sure no one was going to stick their head outside to see what I was doing, I palmed a knife and crouched down in front of the porch. I studied the steps a moment, then stabbed my knife into the seam at the end of the top step.

  I wiggled the blade back and forth, making the wood creak and groan and slowly peeling up that floorboard. Ever since I’d had that dream, that memory, of sitting here with Fletcher, I had been thinking about this place, and it had finally occurred to me that I’d never seen the old man actually fix this step, although I knew he had, since it had stopped squeaking soon after our talk.

  The plank finally popped up. I set it aside, then leaned forward, my heart picking up speed as I peered down into the hollow space beneath, hoping, hoping, hoping I would finally find what I was looking for.

  And I did.

  Something gleamed in the shadows, and I reached down, grabbed the item, and pulled it up into the light. It was a silverstone box just like the one I’d found in Tucker’s grave. My heart pounded even faster, and my hands shook as I shattered the padlock with my Ice magic, tossed it aside, and cracked open the box to find…

  A black ledger wrapped in plastic.

  This was it. This was the real ledger. I knew it in my bones.

  My hands were still shaking, but I peeled away the plastic, grabbed the ledger, and opened it. To my surprise, it was blank, except for a single series of numbers written in the center of the first page in Fletcher’s spidery handwriting.

  It was another bank account number.

  I once again wondered how much money Fletcher had stolen from Mason, but I quickly pushed that thought aside. The dollar amount didn’t really matter, although it must be substantial for Mason to go to so much trouble to try to retrieve the funds.

  No, the thing that really mattered was that Mason needed the money for something right now. Thanks to my mother’s blue ledger, I had plenty of information on the Circle’s past misdeeds, but I had no idea what the group’s current plans were. Tucker could help with that, though, when—if—he woke up.

  Even if the vampire remained comatose, I was going to recover Mason’s money from the account Fletcher had stashed it in. I might not have more elemental magic than my uncle, but money was another form of power and could be wielded just as viciously as one of my silverstone knives. Cutting Mason off at his financial knees just might be the first step to actually killing him.

  I started to close the ledger, but then I realized that something else had been tucked into the front—an envelope with my name written on it.

  I set the ledger aside. My hands were still shaking, but I managed to open the envelope and pull out the letter inside.

  Dearest Gin,

  If you are reading this, then I am dead. You probably know why I am writing this and the awful thing I have to confess.

  I worked for Mason Mitchell.

  Mason is your uncle and the head of the Circle. I hurt people for him. I killed people for him. There are no words to describe how much pain and guilt this causes me, even to this day, or how much I wish I could go back in time and undo all the damage I did on Mason’s behalf.

  I could take the easy way out and blame it all on Mason. On how he lied to me and manipulated me. On how he promised to help me find and kill Deirdre for threatening Finn when my boy was a baby.

  But that’s not the whole truth.

  No, the whole truth is that I was heartbroken after Deirdre’s betrayal. She
was gone, but I wanted to hurt her, even though she wasn’t here anymore. So I settled for hurting other people instead. Unbeknownst to me at the time, one of those people would eventually be you, when Mason killed Tristan, your father.

  This is my deepest regret and my greatest shame.

  Eventually, I learned the truth about Mason, but that didn’t change all the horrible things I’d already done for him.

  Still, I tried to atone for it the best I could. I’m sure you remember Wade Brockton, the accountant who died, and our conversation on this very porch that night so long ago. Wade didn’t embezzle money just to help his sick daughter—he stole money for me too.

  I promised to protect Wade, but I failed in that, just like I failed you.

  But I still have the money. In the ledger, you will find the number to a bank account. Show it to Finn. He can help you access the funds.

  Mason only cares about three things: his magic, his money, and the power those things give him. I couldn’t do anything about his magic, but I took away his money. It’s up to you to finish doing what I couldn’t, to destroy Mason and the Circle.

  We might not always be richer or stronger than our enemies, but we can always fight smarter.

  With all of my love,

  Now and always,

  Fletcher

  By the time I finished reading the letter, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and that sharpest sting of Fletcher’s betrayal throbbed in my heart again. I wished he had trusted me with the truth, but I could understand why he had kept it to himself.

  Fletcher had been ashamed, and he hadn’t wanted me to view him in a different light or think less of him. And I probably would have if he had told me the truth that night on the porch. I’d been young then. I might have seen how ugly the world could be, but I hadn’t fully realized how easily people could get turned around and twisted up in the muck until they didn’t even recognize themselves anymore.

  Fletcher was right. Nothing could change what he’d done. All the people he’d hurt and killed for Mason, all the times he’d lied to me, all the ways Mason had hurt me and my family. But the old man had tried to make up for his mistakes, and he’d left the ledger for me to find. In the end, Fletcher had tried to do the right thing, and I couldn’t ignore that.

 

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