Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(61)
18
The next night was the grand opening of the jewelry exhibit. Even if I hadn’t
been invited by Mama Dee herself, a whole passel of assassins couldn’t have
kept me from seeing what was supposed to be her crowning achievement.
The event was being held at Briartop, Ashland’s largest, fanciest, and most
self-important art museum. And, lately, the most maligned, given all the
deaths and injuries that had resulted from Clementine Barker’s almost-
successful heist back during the summer.
Briartop perched on top of a rocky ridge of an island in the middle of the
Aneirin River and was accessible only by crossing an old-fashioned whitewashed
covered wooden bridge. Given the previous robbery attempt, the police had come
out in full force for tonight’s event, and groups of officers were stationed
at both ends of the bridge, shining their flashlights into every car and
examining invitations before they let anyone cross over to the island itself.
Owen showed our invitation to the cops, who waved us on through, then steered
his car across the bridge and into the receiving line of vehicles crawling up
the hill. He handed his keys off to a valet, and we walked arm in arm toward
the museum.
Even by Ashland standards, Briartop was impressive: five stories of gleaming
gray marble, with a coal-black slate roof and fat, pointed turrets that made
it look like the Southern version of a fairy-tale castle. Crenellated
balconies clung to the front of the building like square, narrow spiderwebs,
adding to the castle illusion, while four massive columns flanked the main
entrance.
More cops were stationed outside the entrance, along with the museum’s own
guards, all of them checking invitations a second time just to make sure that
no one slipped past them who wasn’t supposed to be here. If Deirdre was
planning to steal the exhibit jewelry, she would have a hard time getting
through all the security. But if that wasn’t her plan, then what was? Worry
wiggled like a worm on a hook in the bottom of my stomach. Try as I might, I
still couldn’t see what her endgame was, much less how or even if it involved
Finn.
Owen and I got in line to have our invitations checked again. Tonight’s event
was black-tie to the max, and the folks milling around the museum entrance had
risen to the occasion, with the men in classic tuxedoes and the women in
glittering gowns. Even among the highfalutin crowd, Owen attracted more than
his share of attention. His blue-black hair gleamed under the lights, and his
black tuxedo jacket stretched perfectly over his broad, muscled shoulders,
making him even more ruggedly handsome than usual.
I attracted some glances too, mostly because of my dress. The blood-red velvet
that was always my color hugged my body like a second skin, but what made the
dress really stand out was the spiderweb pattern done in black crystals
stretching across the bodice. Smaller webs, also done in black crystals,
flowed down the skirt before trimming the entire bottom of the garment, making
me look like a black widow spider come to life.
More than one person did a double take at the dress’s obvious association
with my assassin alter ego, and whispers sprang up all around me. I ignored
them. Let people think what they wanted to about me. I had much more important
things to worry about tonight.
“Why, Blanco, fancy seeing you here,” a snide voice murmured.
I looked to my right to find Dimitri Barkov standing a few feet away, a blonde
with sky-high hair and overinflated breasts clinging to his arm like wet
tissue paper. The Russian gangster was wearing a tux, and he’d even gone to
the trouble of styling his shaggy black toupee into an elaborate pompadour.
All the grease in the fake hair made it look like an oil slick spreading
across his scalp.
Dimitri’s cold brown eyes flicked over my dress. He opened his mouth to
deliver some insult, but his date thrust her breasts up against his side and
stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.
“Come on, Dimi,” she crooned in a baby-doll voice. “I want to go inside and
see the jewels like you promised.”
He looked at her, his face flat. “And I told you never to interrupt me when I
’m talking business.”
The blonde heard the threat in his words loud and clear. Despite her heavy
makeup, her face paled, and she dropped her head in apology. Her body started
trembling so hard that her breasts threatened to jiggle right out of the top
of her dress.
Dimitri turned back to me. “See you around, Blanco,” he said, sneering.
He gave me another cold glare, then headed for the entrance and disappeared
inside the museum, since he and his date had already been cleared. I didn’t
like his smug smirk, not one little bit. Dimitri was definitely up to
something, but this wasn’t the time or place to confront him.
“What was that about?” Owen asked.
“Just a minor mobster trying to be threatening. Forget about it. I could kill