Venom

5

Elliot Slater didn’t seem particularly concerned that Bria had a gun leveled at his head. No real reason to be. Giants had thick skulls. Only way to do much damage was to put something through their eyes and up into their brain. Most people just couldn’t shoot that well under pressure.

As for her part, Bria didn’t seem particularly concerned that Slater was looking at her like he was going to rip her head off her body, scoop out her spine, and eat it for dinner. Instead, she regarded him with a cold gaze, her eyes like sapphire chips of ice in her lovely face.

“I think the lady wants you to leave her alone,” Bria said in a hard voice. “So why don’t you do that? Right now.”

Elliot released his hold on Roslyn, who stumbled away. Owen slid out of the booth and caught the vampire before she hit the floor.

“Do you know who I am?” Slater rumbled. “Who I work for?”

Bria smiled, and her eyes iced over even more. “Elliot Slater. Head of security for Mab Monroe. And, given what I’ve seen here tonight, a prime-A bastard who enjoys intimidating women.”

The giant’s hazel eyes narrowed with malice. Shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd. No one could believe what they were seeing — someone standing up to Slater and his goons.

“In case you don’t know who I am, let me share.” Bria reached into the pocket of her black leather jacket and came up with a gold badge. She held it up so the crowd could get a look at the shiny metal. “I’m a detective with the Ashland Police Department.”

Despite the situation, I couldn’t help the spurt of warm pride that filled me. Not because I had any great love of the police, but because of Bria. My little sister was actually standing up to Elliot Slater, actually trying to help Roslyn, who was so obviously in trouble. It might have been stupid, taking on someone as powerful and well connected as Slater, but I didn’t see any fear in Bria’s face — just cold, hard determination. She wasn’t a pushover any more than I was, which made me like her all the more. Maybe we had more in common than I’d thought. Maybe a lot more.

“Aren’t you off duty tonight, detective?” Slater asked.

“I was enjoying the music and a mojito — until you started making trouble,” she snapped. “But cops like me never really go off duty. So unless you leave the premises immediately, Mr. Slater, I’m going to arrest you for assault, among other things.”

Slater crossed his arms over his chest, considering the situation. I gathered my legs under me, ready to leap up and strike. If Slater made a move toward Bria, he was dead. I’d climb on his back, reach around, and slit his throat if he so much as touched her. The giant wasn’t going to hurt my sister like he had me at the community college. I’d deal with the consequences — and Mab Monroe — later.

I glanced at Finn. He still held the beer bottle down by his side. He’d slipped through the crowd so that he was behind the two giants Slater had brought along for backup. Finn and I had tag-teamed more than a few people in our time. He’d deal with the underlings and keep them busy, while I went after Slater.

Elliot stared at Bria a few more seconds, then uncrossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll leave. Wouldn’t want you to have to work any overtime tonight, detective.” The giant turned toward Roslyn, who huddled on the floor next to Owen Grayson. Slater put two fingers to his lips and blew a kiss to the vampire. “Later, baby.”

People scurried to get out of Slater’s way as he strolled across the dance floor. His two goons gave Bria the hard stare a moment longer, before they followed their boss out into the night.

Bria kept her gun level with the giants’ broad backs until the three men exited the club. Then she lowered and holstered her weapon. Bria let out a breath and tucked her blond hair back behind one ear. Her fingers twitched with the motion. Natural to feel a little shaky after threatening to kill one of the most dangerous men in Ashland.

But Bria put her game face back on and went over to check on Roslyn. My sister knelt down beside the vampire and murmured to her. Roslyn shook her head and hugged her arms to her chest. Once again, that spark of warm pride filled me at Bria’s caring actions. She really was good, strong, determined. Reminded me of me. Well, except for the good part.

Since I didn’t want to get in the middle of the two of them, I drained the rest of my gin, dumped the ice in a cocktail napkin, and went over to Xavier. The giant slumped against the side of a booth, just trying to breathe. His black eyes looked dull and defeated underneath the club’s soft lights. A sneer twisted Xavier’s lips, as though he was disgusted at himself for not being able to get rid of Slater all by his lonesome.

“Here,” I said, holding out the ice-filled napkin. “Put this against your throat. It’ll help with the swelling.”

The giant still couldn’t talk, but he nodded his head and took the napkin. Finn worked his way through the chattering crowd and hunkered down beside us.

“Is he going to be okay?” Finn asked in a soft voice.

“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” I snapped.

Normally, I wouldn’t have been so harsh with Finn. But now I knew exactly why he’d dragged me to Northern Aggression tonight and what that little problem was that Finn had promised to help Xavier with — Elliot Slater’s creepy fixation on Roslyn Phillips. Finn had brought me here so I’d see it firsthand, so I’d see exactly how terrified Roslyn was of Slater. Finn had set me up. Brought me here to have my heartstrings plucked.

And it had worked.

I stared at Finn, the knowledge blazing in my eyes. He dropped his gaze from mine. Guilty as charged.

“Is there anything I can do for him?” Finn asked in a low tone.

“Go get that tub of Jo-Jo’s healing ointment you keep stashed in your car. Xavier needs it more than you do tonight.”

Finn nodded, got to his feet, and left. I turned back to the giant, who was staring at Roslyn. Concern filled his dark gaze, along with other soft, warm emotions. The poor guy could barely squeeze in enough air through his bruised throat to keep going, and his only thought was the vampire. If he could have, I imagined Xavier would have crawled over to her and cradled her in his massive arms. Xavier’s being in love with Roslyn was going to make all this that much more difficult.

“Xavier.”

The giant’s head swiveled back around to me.

“I want you and Roslyn to come down to the Pork Pit tomorrow for lunch so we can talk about some things,” I said. “Understand?”

Xavier slowly nodded. Surprise flickered in his black gaze, along with another emotion that made my stomach twist. Hope.

“Let’s make it a late lunch, say around two o’clock.”

The giant nodded again.

“Good,” I said. “See you then.”

It wasn’t long before the music cranked back up, and everyone returned to their previous occupations. Smoking, drinking, dancing, fucking. As though the events of a few minutes ago had never happened. Some folks in Ashland had real short attention spans.

Finn came back in with the ointment, which I slathered on Xavier’s throat. In addition to healing with their hands, Air elementals like Jo-Jo Deveraux could also infuse their oxygen-rich magic into certain products to give them an extra kick, like antibiotic ointment. Xavier sat still while the shiny grease worked its magic. Less than a minute later, the ugly, purple, fist-shaped bruise on his throat faded, the swelling went down, and his breathing eased into a wheeze-free pattern of inhalation and exhalation.

As soon as he could, Xavier got up and went over to Roslyn, who was still talking to Bria. Or rather still not answering Bria. The vampire had pulled herself up into a booth, where she sat staring off into space. Bria perched beside her, speaking in low tones. Probably talking to Roslyn about Elliot Slater and trying to get the vamp to press charges against the giant. But Roslyn wasn’t answering.

Frustrated by the vamp’s lack of response, Bria got to her feet and paced back and forth in front of the booth for the better part of a minute before sitting back down next to the vamp and trying again. Her mojito and night of clubbing were long forgotten. My sister seemed to take her job as a member of the po-po seriously. As proud of her as that made me, I also knew it was something that could be problematic for me later on — for any number of reasons.

Since Roslyn was otherwise occupied, Owen Grayson drifted in my direction. By this point, I’d moved over to the Ice bar and ordered another gin. One that tasted even more bitter than my first two. But it didn’t much matter, since Finn had gone out to get his car and take me home. I’d seen what he’d wanted me to see. No more reason to stick around the club tonight. Besides, I’d never been one to stay and gawk at the messy aftermath and cleanup. My former profession as an assassin had precluded that sort of thing anyway.

Grayson took the stool next to me and ordered another scotch. His violet eyes cut to his sister Eva, who was once again grooving with the rest of the folks on the dance floor. After he’d made sure she was okay, Owen turned his gaze to me.

“You know, Gin,” he said. “You never did answer my question.”

Owen Grayson was persistent, if nothing else. I thought of the way he’d been ready to back me up against Elliot Slater — and how he’d caught Roslyn after the giant had shoved her away.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll have dinner with you, Owen.”

A smile stretched across his face, softening the hard cut of his features. “Excellent. One night this week?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I’ll call you.”

“Try not to sound too enthusiastic,” he replied in a dry tone. “Or I won’t be able to contain myself. My ego might get inflated or something.”

I grinned at his sardonic humor. My eyes drifted over his broad shoulders and strong body again. I remembered the way Owen had held my hand — and the surprising warmth it had stirred in me. I finished the rest of my gin and got to my feet.

Then I leaned over and put my mouth close to Owen’s ear. “Actually, I prefer to save my enthusiasm for more worthwhile pursuits — like those in bed.”

“Can I get that in writing?” he murmured.

Owen turned his head so that his lips were an inch away from mine. I stared into his violet eyes, and his scent washed over me — a rich, earthy aroma that made me think of metal. I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his. It was a light, brief contact, and nothing like the frenzied, tongue-driving kisses I’d shared with Donovan Caine. Still, more sparks sizzled to life in the pit of my stomach at the feel of Owen’s mouth on mine, at the warmth of his body mingling with my own. Mmm. Maybe having dinner with Owen would be more fun than I’d imagined. Maybe so would a lot of other things.

I pulled back. Desire brightened Owen’s eyes so that they almost glowed, but I found myself looking for other emotions in his gaze. For the guilt and grief and tinge of fear that had always swirled in Donovan Caine’s eyes whenever he looked at me. But I didn’t find them. Only desire and determination.

“If that’s a taste of what’s to come, I can hardly wait for dinner,” Owen murmured.

“Try not to sound too enthusiastic,” I quipped. “Or I won’t be able to contain myself.”

He grinned. “Can I get that in writing too?”

I laughed. Owen joined in with his own throaty chuckle. Feeling strangely lighter than I had in a long time, I winked at him and strolled away.

*

Thirty minutes later, Finn drove up a long, snaking driveway that wound up one of the many steep ridges of the Appalachian Mountains that cut through Ashland like rows of sharks’ teeth. We hadn’t spoken since we’d left Northern Aggression. Finn realized I was royally pissed at him for snookering me into going to the club in the first place. He had the good sense not to try to weasel his way out of it. Tonight, at least.

The driveway opened up into a small clearing on top of the ridge, and Finn stopped his Aston Martin in the gravel outside Fletcher Lane’s house.

In addition to leaving me the Pork Pit and a fat chunk of change in his last will and testament, the old man had also bequeathed me his house, a three-story, clapboard structure that had been built before the Civil War. Over the years, the home’s various owners had added on to the original structure in a variety of styles. In addition to its white boards, the house was a mishmash of gray stone, brown brick, and red clay. A tin roof covered the entire structure, along with black shutters and blue eaves. The whole thing resembled a ragged doll’s house that had been constructed with leftover pieces. But it was home to me. Always had been, always would be.

Finn sighed in the darkness. “Gin, I—”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I said, turning to look at him. “When Xavier and Roslyn come to the restaurant for lunch.”

Finn blinked. “They’re coming to the Pork Pit?”

“At two. Be there.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you, Gin.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

“But you will,” Finn replied. “And that’s all that matters.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. Despite the fact I was still angry at him, after a moment I squeezed back. Like it or not, Finn was like a brother to me — and in the end, that was all that really mattered.