Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(33)

“I wish I could tell you more, Gin,” Jo-Jo said. “But Fletcher kept Dee-Dee

to himself.”

I nodded and rubbed my temples, which were throbbing like I’d just downed as

much Scotch as Finn had. I started pacing back and forth, even though the

snap-snap-snap-snap of my stilettos against the floor added to my headache. My

troubled thoughts were as quick as my steps, and more and more questions

crowded into my mind.

“You really think she’s up to something?” Owen asked.

“For Finn’s sake, I hope she’s not. This is one instance where I would be

happy to be wrong.”

“But?” he asked.

That photo of Deirdre staring down at newborn Finn with no expression on her

face popped into my head again. Funny, but that was exactly how Finn had

looked at me tonight, as if I didn’t matter to him at all, and it had shaken

me far more than I cared to admit.

“Gin?” Jo-Jo asked.

I stopped pacing and looked at her and Owen. “But something tells me there’s

a lot more to Deirdre Shaw than just a mother trying to reconnect with her

son.”





10

We left Finn at the salon, and Owen drove me back to Fletcher’s. He offered

to spend the night, but I sent him home. I wasn’t good company right now. Not

when so many thoughts and questions kept swirling around in my mind about

Finn, Fletcher, and Deirdre.

I had just locked the door behind Owen and slipped out of my stilettos when

the phone rang. I sighed, knowing exactly who it was—and that he would just

keep calling until I answered him.

So I went into the den and grabbed the cordless phone. “Hello, Silvio.”

Silence. “How did you know it was me?” The vampire’s voice flooded my ear.

“Because I turned off my cell phone before I went to the bank, and no doubt

you have been trying to reach me ever since you heard about the robbery.” I

sat down on the couch. “Not to mention the fact that the phone rang a mere

minute after Owen left. How would someone know that I was home right this very

second? Unless, of course, he had planted a GPS tracker on Owen’s car.”

Silvio cleared his throat. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Of course not.”

I didn’t say anything more as I leaned back and put my feet up on the coffee

table. The silence stretched on . . . and on . . . and on . . .

Finally, Silvio sighed. “You’re going to make me ask what happened, aren’t

you?”

“Would I do something like that?”

“Absolutely,” he grumbled.

Even though he couldn’t see me, I still grinned. “Sadly, it’s the most fun

I’ve had all night.”

I filled him in on the robbery and Deirdre’s big reveal. When I finished, he

was silent, although a series of clickety-clack-clack-clacks sounded through

the phone, as if he was typing out notes on our conversation. Now, that was

what a good assistant was supposed to do.

“I have some preliminary information on Ms. Shaw,” he said, still typing

away. “I’ll have it and more waiting at the Pork Pit in the morning.”

“Thank you. You’re a good friend, Silvio.”

“I do try,” he said, an amused note in his voice. “Now, get some sleep. I’

ve got work to do.”

We hung up, and I went upstairs, took a shower, and got into bed. I thought I

would have trouble falling asleep, since my brain was still in overdrive, but

as soon as my head touched the pillows, I dropped off into the land of sleep,

dreams, and memories . . .

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course, you don’t think it’s a good idea. You

never think anything fun is good.”

He went back to stringing up white lights along the fireplace mantel in the

den. I shifted from one foot to the other, my stomach twisting into tight

knots, but I didn’t try to stop him. I had no right to. After all, this was

his dad’s house. I was just a guest here. At least, that’s how I still felt

sometimes, even though I’d been living with Fletcher for almost a year now.

The old man had gone off on some assassin job as the Tin Man and wouldn’t be

back until morning. He’d wanted Finn and me to spend the night at Jo-Jo’s,

but Finn had griped that he was sixteen now and Fletcher had to start leaving

him alone sometime. After an hour of arguing on Finn’s part, the old man had

reluctantly agreed. Even though I would never tell him so, I’d thought Finn

was right. Neither one of us was a kid. Not after all the bad things we’d

seen and done.

What I hadn’t realized was that Finn had a secret agenda.

Sure, he wanted to be trusted enough to be left home alone. But he also

planned to throw a massive party.

The second the old man left, Finn had started calling up all his friends.