Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(16)

glasses of champagne. They then handed everything off to the waiters, who

dispensed alcohol and hors d’oeuvres to the crowd.

Behind the counter, three cash cages were set equidistantly into the wall,

each one covered with a grate of silverstone bars to protect the shrink-

wrapped bricks of money stored inside. Of course, the cages were locked up

tight for the night, and so was the steel door in the back left corner of the

lobby. Behind that door, a staircase led down to the basement, where many of

the bankers’ offices—including Finn’s—were located, along with another,

much larger vault.

First Trust had several secure areas, but the basement vault—jokingly dubbed

Big Bertha by Finn—was reserved for the bank’s most important and wealthiest

clients. That’s where the real money, power, and secrets were hidden,

carefully stowed away in silverstone boxes not unlike the one I’d found in

Deirdre’s casket.

“Do you see Finn?” Bria asked, peering out over the crowd.

This might have ostensibly been an informal cocktail party, but everyone was

dressed to impress, with coiffed hair, perfect makeup, and sparkling gems,

each rock bigger and flashier than the last. All around the room, the

gemstones proudly whispered of their own beauty, their light, trilling chorus

blending in perfectly with the classical music playing in the background.

Owen pointed across the lobby. “There he is.”

Finn was perched on a stool at a wooden bar that had been set up along the

left wall. He wore a different suit from the one he’d had on at lunch, this

one a polished pewter that gleamed under the chandeliers. He clutched a glass

of Scotch, his gaze fixed on the woman sitting next to him, a wide smile on

his face, as though he found their conversation exceptionally entertaining.

The woman must have said something truly funny, because Finn threw back his

head and laughed, a loud, hearty laugh and not the small, polite chuckle he

used with clients who thought they were more amusing than they really were.

The woman had her back to me, so all I could really see was her blond hair.

Maybe that was why Finn was laughing so long and hard. He might be involved

with Bria, but he was also a shameless flirt who wasn’t above using his manly

wiles to charm a female client, no matter her age, occupation, or marital

status.

Finn must have sensed our stares, because he turned, caught sight of Bria,

Owen, and me, and waved us over. Whispers sprang up in our wake, most of them

having to do with me, since more than a few underworld bosses were here

tonight. Even criminals had to store their ill-gotten gains somewhere, and

First Trust didn’t discriminate. Rumor had it that the bank even offered a

money-laundering service—literally, to get all those pesky bloodstains off

stacks of Benjamins that had been rather violently acquired.

Actually, it wasn’t a rumor at all. Back when Finn was a lowly junior clerk,

he had spent many hours in the bank’s lab, spritzing money with a special

cleaning solution and then carefully scrubbing stains off the bills. Once Finn

had even enlisted Sophia Deveraux, Jo-Jo’s sister and my body disposer, to

use her Air magic to help clean some particularly blood-soaked bricks. With

Sophia’s help, he’d salvaged more than a million dollars for the bank—and

got his first promotion.

More murmurs sounded, and I focused on the folks around me again. A couple of

weeks ago, I would have ignored all the stares, glares, and sly whispers. But

these were my people now, so to speak, so I made eye contact with every

mobster I knew, nodding at the head honchos and their crew members and paying

them the proper amount of respect. Many of the bosses nodded back, but a few

eyed me with open hostility, including Dimitri Barkov, who alternated between

glaring and smirking at me. Lucky me, getting to see him and his bad toupee

twice in one day.

I made note of his sour expression and all the others to pass along to Silvio

later. Perhaps my trusty assistant could diagram the best way for me to take

out the more troublesome bosses all at once. If nothing else, Silvio would

relish the challenge.

But there were two familiar—and friendly—faces in the crowd. Mallory Parker

and her granddaughter, Lorelei. They were sitting at a table in the middle of

the lobby. I pointed them out, and Owen steered us in that direction.

Mallory was a wizened dwarf who was well into her three hundreds and still

going strong, as evidenced by the half-empty bottle of bourbon and the large

glass on the table in front of her. Despite the liquor, her blue eyes were

sharp, and her hair had been teased into a fluffy white cloud around her head,

making her seem far more angelic than she really was.

More than a few folks stared at her, their envious gazes focused on the inch-

wide diamond choker that ringed her neck, the matching bracelet on her wrist,

and the solitaire rings that sparkled on her gnarled fingers. Mallory