Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(74)

warned me that Deirdre didn’t care about anyone other than herself, but the

casual, matter-of-fact way she talked about killing her own son . . .

She wasn’t coldhearted—she didn’t have any heart at all.

“Of course, Fletcher let me go. I told him that if he ever threatened me in

any way, I would kill Finnegan, along with those two Deveraux busybodies. Then

I walked out the door and never looked back.” She shook her head again.

“Although the same can’t be said for Fletcher. I knew that he kept track of

me, crept around in the bushes and took pictures from time to time. As if

there were ever any reason for me to come back to Ashland.”

“Not even for your son?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Finnegan?” She shrugged again. “He’s just another tool that I happen to

need.”

“And once you’re done with him?”

“Then I’ll dispose of him, just the way I did Fletcher all those years ago.

”

Her words chilled me to the bone, because I knew she meant every single one of

them.

But she still hadn’t told me the most important thing: exactly what she

needed Finn for. I opened my mouth to ask, but Tucker cleared his throat,

cutting me off. Deirdre looked over at him, and he waggled his phone at her,

reminding her that it was time to wrap up our little tête-à-tête. Whatever was

going on, whatever their plan was, it was starting now.

“Santos,” she called out. “I believe you have an appointment to keep.”

The giant nodded and pivoted on his heel. The sudden motion caused his coat to

fly out from his body, revealing his dark gray clothes again. I frowned. I’d

been right about him wearing some sort of uniform, complete with a company

name stitched on the breast pocket, but the coat dropped back into place, and

he walked away before I could make out what it was.

“And I also have my part to play.” Deirdre fixed her icy blue gaze on me

again. “Good-bye, Gin. Say hello to Fletcher for me when you see him. And do

tell him that I’ll be sending Finnegan along shortly to join the two of you.

”

“You bitch!” I hissed, my hands clenching around the cage bars. “If you so

much as touch Finn, I will rip out your heart with my bare f*cking hands.”

“Oh, I doubt that, since you’ll be dead long before Finnegan will be. He is

still useful, while you are not.” She tilted her head to the side, studying

me as though I were some odd specimen. “You really are just like Fletcher. So

protective and so predictable. He couldn’t see the big picture until it was

too late. And you? You’ll never even get the chance.”

“Well, enlighten me, then,” I snapped.

“I’m not that foolish.” She smiled. “I only indulged your whim about

Fletcher because it amused me, and I knew how much it would hurt you to knock

him off that pedestal you’ve put him on. Besides, I rather like the idea of

you going to your grave knowing that you failed to protect your so-called

brother.”

“I’m more Finn’s family than you are, you coldhearted bitch.”

“As if I would care about something as silly as that.” She looked at me

again, that cold, cold smile still on her face. “The only thing your precious

family has gotten you is dead, Gin. Think about that when Dimitri starts

torturing you. I’ll be sure to remind Finnegan of it when I do the same to

him.”

Her smile widened at my horrified expression, and she threw her head back and

laughed, the light, pealing sound ringing like a death knell as she turned and

left the warehouse.





21

Tucker didn’t even glance at me as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket

and trailed outside after his boss. Santos was already gone, so that left me

alone with Dimitri Barkov. He snapped his fingers a couple of times, and the

guard standing at the door stuck his head outside and let out a loud whistle.

A minute later, two more guys entered the warehouse, and the three of them

swaggered over to the cage. All were giants, seven feet tall, with big, beefy

bodies, and I recognized them as some of the enforcers in Dimitri’s crew. The

kind of guys tasked with breaking arms, knees, and even necks when the

occasion called for it. They were all carrying long, heavy tire irons, one of

which they handed over to Dimitri.

The Russian mobster grinned and slapped the tire iron against the palm of his

hand several times, trying to intimidate me. Idiot. He was already dead. So

were his men. They just didn’t know it yet. I could have busted out of my

cage anytime I wanted to, but I intended to give this canary a chance to sing

first.

“So you wanted your revenge on me, and you threw in your lot with Deirdre to

try to get it.” I shook my head. “That’s the last mistake you’ll ever

make, Dimitri.”