Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(114)
Too bad my mission was recon only.
I slouched down in my seat, staying as much out of view of the passing
headlights as possible. But none of the drivers gave my battered old white van
a second look, and I doubted any of them even bothered to glance at the blue
lettering on the side that read Cloudburst Falls Catering. Caterers, florists,
musicians. Such service vehicles were all too common in Northtown, the part of
Ashland where the rich, social, and magical elite lived. If not for the lousy
weather, I imagined that this entire street would have been lit up with
holiday cheer as people hosted various parties, each one trying to outdo their
neighbors with garish light displays.
Once the last of the cars cruised by and the final pair of headlights faded
away, I straightened in my seat, picked up my binoculars from my lap, and
peered through them at another nearby mansion.
A stone wall cordoned this mansion off from the street, featuring a wide iron
gate that was closed and locked for the night. Unlike its neighboring house,
there were no holiday lights, and only a single room on the front was
illuminated—an office with glass doors that led out to a stone patio. Thin
white curtains covered the doors, and every few seconds, the murky shape of a
man would appear, moving back and forth, as though he was continually pacing
from one side of his office to the other.
I just bet he was pacing. From all the reports I’d heard, he’d been holed up
in his mansion for months now, preparing for his murder trial, which was set
to begin after the first of the year. That would be enough to drive anyone
stir-crazy.
Beside me, a soft creak rang out, followed by a long, loud sigh. Two sounds
that I’d heard over and over again in the last hour I’d been parked here.
The man in the mansion wasn’t the only one going nuts.
“Tell me again. How did I get stuck hanging out with you tonight?” a low
voice muttered.
I lowered my binoculars and looked over at Phillip Kincaid, who had his arms
crossed over his muscled chest and a mulish expression on his handsome face. A
long black trench coat covered his body and a black toboggan was pulled down
low on his forehead, hiding his golden hair from sight, except for the low
ponytail that stuck out the back. I was dressed in black as well, from my
boots to my jeans to my silverstone vest, turtleneck, and fleece jacket. A
black toboggan also topped my head, although I’d stuffed all my dark brown
hair up underneath it.
“What’s wrong, Philly?” I drawled. “Don’t like being my babysitter
tonight?”
He shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. “You’re Gin Blanco, the famed
assassin turned underworld queen. You don’t need babysitting.” He shifted in
his seat, making it creak again, then shook his head. “But Owen insisted on
it . . . The things I do for that man.”
Phillip was right. As the Spider, I could handle myself in just about any
situation. I certainly didn’t need him here, but Owen Grayson, Phillip’s
best friend and my significant other, had insisted on it. But I hadn’t
protested too much when Phillip showed up at the Pork Pit, my barbecue
restaurant, at closing time and told me that he wanted to tag along tonight.
With the mysterious members of the Circle out there, a little backup might
come in handy. Even if said backup was whinier than one would hope.
“Why couldn’t Lane sit out here with you?” Phillip asked. “Or Jo-Jo, or
even Sophia for that matter? Why did I get elected to freeze my balls off
tonight?”
Finnegan Lane, my foster brother, was often my partner in crime in all things
Spider-related, while Jo-Jo and Sophia Deveraux healed me and cleaned up the
blood and bodies I left in my wake.
“Because Finn is still dealing with the mess that Deirdre Shaw left behind at
First Trust bank, and Jo-Jo and Sophia had tickets to The Nutcracker,” I
said, ticking our friends off on my hand. “And, of course, you know that Owen
promised Eva that he’d help out with that holiday toy drive she’s leading
over at the community college.”
“I would have been happy to help Eva with her toy drive,” Phillip grumbled
again. “Thrilled. Ecstatic even.”
Despite their roughly ten-year age difference, Phillip was crazy about Eva
Grayson, Owen’s younger sister, although he was waiting for her to finish
college and grow up a bit before pursuing a real relationship with her.
“Anything would have been better—warmer—than this.” He popped up the
collar of his trench coat so that it would cover more of his neck, then
slouched down even farther in his seat.
“Aw, poor baby. Stuck out here in the cold and dark with me tonight.” I
clucked my tongue in mock sympathy. “And to think that I was just about to
offer you some hot chocolate.”
His blue eyes narrowed with interest. “You have hot chocolate? Homemade hot