He put his hands over mine. For a moment, I thought that he was going to make one last-ditch effort to pry my fingers off his head, but instead, he forced himself, calmly and simply, to lay his hands over mine, as though he wanted to feel his skin touching mine. Liar. He’d never wanted that.
He’d never wanted me.
The ache in my chest sharpened, and I felt another piece of my heart break off and join the chunk that had belonged to Derrick. A smile lifted my lips, but there was no warmth in it, just grim determination to finish this.
“You’re right. I really did like you. I thought you were such a nice guy.”
Martin tried to smile at me but couldn’t quite pull it off. “I am a nice guy. Just give me a second chance, and you’ll see.”
I looked him in the eyes. “Good-bye, Martin. It was fun while it lasted, even if it was all a lie.”
Then I snapped his neck and let him fall to the floor.
I stood over Martin’s body for a long, long time. Trying to push down my emotions, pretend that I hadn’t felt anything for him, and ignore the hollow spot in my heart. The funny thing was, that spot hadn’t even belonged to Martin. Not really. I hadn’t known him long enough for that. No, the things that had filled my heart had been hope, warmth, and what might have been.
But those were gone now, as dead as Martin was, and I didn’t know when they would come back. Or if I would even let them come back. Maybe someday I would feel differently. Maybe someday I would meet a man who was genuinely interested in me. Maybe someday I would take a chance and open myself up again.
But not today.
So I stood over Martin’s body until I got my anger, disappointment, and heartache under control. Eventually, I managed it—or at least, I told myself that I managed it.
And the strangest thought occurred to me. I finally had the perfect ending for my detective book. The killer was the assistant’s lover. Of course. It was always the duplicitous lover.
I pushed the grim thought away. Right now I had other things to worry about besides book breakthroughs and a con man screwing with my feelings.
Like the fact that I was standing in a warehouse full of dead men. The situation needed to be dealt with, so I got to work. I rifled through the giants’ pockets and found a phone that I could use, since mine was a blank slate now. Then I went through the door at the far end of the warehouse, walked through another smaller room, and stepped outside.
The snow had intensified while I’d been fighting the giants, and fat, fluffy flakes now cascaded down from the sky at a steady rate. The snow had already covered the parking lot in front of me, which was empty except for the black van that Martin and his men had used to bring me here. Nothing moved or stirred, and I stood there for a minute, absorbing the peace and quiet and letting the white noise of the falling snow slowly drown out my inner turmoil.
Through the flakes, I spotted a sign at the corner that read Carver Street. So I was in Southtown, ironically enough only a few miles from the Cake Walk and the Pork Pit. Now that I knew exactly where I was, I should get on with things and make the necessary call for help.
Still, for a moment, I thought about just walking away. Stepping out into the snow, heading back toward the downtown loop, getting into the first cab that would stop for a blood-covered vampire, and pretending none of this had ever happened. That I hadn’t been conned and almost killed.
But someone would find the bodies sooner or later, and my phone and my tablet along with them. I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened here, especially not how thoroughly Martin had duped me, but the scene had to be cleaned. Not just for my sake but for Gin’s too, since she’d been the real target all along. I’d already put her in enough danger today, and I wasn’t going to shirk my duty to her further by not taking care of my own mess.
I sighed and called the appropriate number.
The person on the other end of the line answered on the third ring. “Yes?”
“It’s Silvio. I need you to come help with something. Please.”
“What?”
I thought of all the blood and bodies that littered the warehouse floor. “Your specialty.”
Silence. For a moment, I thought that I wasn’t going to get an answer, but then came the words that I needed to hear.
“Be right there.”
Twenty minutes later, a classic convertible pulled into the parking lot, and a woman got out of the car. She was wearing a long red trench coat with a grinning silver-sequined skull on the back. The skull had a red and white candy cane clutched in its teeth, while a black Santa hat topped its bare head. Sequined candy canes also covered the woman’s red sweater, along with her black jeans. For a final festive touch, she’d tied silver bells and candy-cane-striped ribbons to her black boots. The bells merrily jingled with every move she made.
Sophia Deveraux loved her Goth style, and all of the holiday red was a bit of a departure for her. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her wear so much of any color besides black before. She’d even dusted red glitter all over her black hair. It looked like Gin wasn’t the only one who’d gotten into the spirit of the season.
Sophia’s black gaze flicked over me, taking in my busted knuckles, the bruises around my throat, and all the blood that covered my torn, tattered, grimy gray suit. She held up her index finger, silently telling me to wait, then went around to the back of her car. She shrugged out of her coat, opened the trunk, and drew out a pair of heavy black coveralls. Then she slung the coveralls over her shoulder, shut the trunk, and walked over to me.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
Sophia shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
I led her into the warehouse and showed her the bodies of Martin and the giants.
She arched her black eyebrows and let out a low whistle that matched her raspy voice. “You did all this by yourself? I’m impressed, Silvio.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “I should have known better than to get myself into this situation in the first place.”
“I thought you had a coffee date.”
“Exactly my point,” I growled.
Sophia eyed me, but she didn’t ask me any more questions. Instead, she put on her black coveralls over her holiday clothes. Then she pulled a tape measure out of her pocket, bent down, and started examining the bodies. She also grabbed some of the giants’ arms, trying to determine exactly how heavy they were, before letting them flop back down to the floor.
“First Finn, now you.” Sophia shook her head. “I should start charging by the pound.”
I frowned. “Finn? What kind of trouble did Finn get into?”
She shook her head again and pantomimed drawing a zipper across her mouth. “Lips are sealed.”
“I see,” I murmured. “Well, I hope that you’ll extend me that same courtesy.”
She nodded. “But of course.”
While Sophia hauled the bodies outside to stuff them into her trunk, I went around the warehouse and gathered up my things—phone, coat, scarf, briefcase, and all the shrapnel from my bloody tablet, including the shard that I’d stuck in Vincent’s neck. I even found my hat, which one of the giants had stolen from me in the alley. Of course, I didn’t want it anymore, but I plopped it on my head anyway. I couldn’t risk leaving anything behind for someone to find and trace back to me.
I looked around, feeling like I was forgetting something—something important—but not quite sure what it was. I scanned the floor, and a gleam of silver caught my eye. I went over, bent down, and picked up my spider rune tiepin.
Blood covered the small circle and the eight thin rays, like I’d dipped it in red ink and was going to stamp the symbol onto something. Shame rippled through me, even stronger and more bitter than my heartache. I hadn’t wanted to wear the Spider’s rune on my date, hadn’t wanted to risk scaring off Martin, even though Gin had been better to me
than just about anyone I’d ever met. Not only had she saved my life, but she’d also taken me in and made me part of her family. In return, I’d been too embarrassed to wear her rune on one lousy coffee date.
Well, I could fix that now.
I punched the bloody pin through the center of my equally bloody tie, then found the clasp on the floor and slid it onto the back, securing the spider rune in its proper place. I smoothed down my tie, feeling the rune nestled in the center of the silk like usual. The sensation, knowing that it was there, comforted me and cut through some of my shame.
“Bodies are all loaded up,” Sophia called out from the door. “You ready to go?”
I stroked my fingers over the bloody rune one final time. “I am now.”
8
Even though I wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot shower, crawl into bed, and pretend this afternoon had never happened, I still had another date to keep: the holiday party at the Pork Pit.
Oh, I knew that Gin would understand if I called and told her what had happened, but she’d put a lot of work into the party, and I wasn’t going to worry or disappoint her by not showing up. So I got Sophia to take me home, cleaned myself up, and took a cab back over to the restaurant.
I was thirty minutes late, and the party was in full swing when I stepped through the front door. Gin had really gone to town with the paper snowflakes while I’d been busy dealing with Martin, Vincent, and the giants. Red, white, and green strings of them swooped down from every part of the ceiling now, and she’d even strung them up along the counter that spanned the back wall. She’d also added dozens of strands of white twinkle lights to the mix, bathing the entire restaurant in a warm, bright, cheery glow.
I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the rack by the front door, then scanned the crowd inside. Finnegan Lane, Owen Grayson, Detective Bria Coolidge, Jo-Jo Deveraux . . . All of Gin’s family and friends were already here, along with the restaurant staff. Even Sophia had beaten me back here, and she’d had a trunk full of dead bodies to dispose of. The Goth dwarf was sipping a mug of peppermint hot chocolate and looking over the buffet that had been set up on the counter.
Sophia must have sensed my stare, because she turned and looked at me. She nodded and toasted me with her mug, silently telling me that everything had been taken care of.
I nodded back. “Thank you,” I mouthed to her.
She made a zipping motion across her lips, then grinned and winked at me.
“Silvio! There you are!” Gin’s voice rang out through the crowd, and she walked over to me. “Your date must have gone really well. I was starting to wonder if you were going to come back for the party.”
I didn’t respond, and she finally noticed my less-than-enthusiastic expression.
“Wait . . . it didn’t go so well? Aw, why not? He seemed like such a nice guy.”
“Nice guys bite,” I muttered.
“Well, it’s his loss, right?”
The image of Martin’s body lying on the warehouse floor flashed through my mind. “Yeah. Right.”
“Well, forget about him. We have a new man in our lives.” She pointed across the restaurant. “Liam Carter showed up about forty-five minutes ago, right before the party started.”
Liam Carter was a muscled man with tan skin, blue eyes, and dark brown hair shot through with a few silver threads. He was sitting off in the corner by himself, but he didn’t seem to mind the solitude. I imagined that had something to do with the two empty plates in front of him.
Liam realized that we were staring. He gave Gin a polite nod and toasted her with his mug of hot chocolate, silently thanking her for the hearty holiday meal.
Then he turned his attention to me. He looked me up and down before doing something most unexpected, pointing up at the green mistletoe snowflakes hanging over his head. His lips quirked up into a small, suggestive smile. Was he actually . . . flirting with me?
“He seems to like you.” Gin elbowed me in the side. “You should go say hello.”
I shook my head. “Trust me. I’ve had enough romance for one day. Besides, I can’t believe that you let him in the door, much less actually stay for the party.”
She shrugged. “He was very polite.”
My eyes narrowed. “And?”
She shrugged again. “And he brought me a very nice set of steak knives.”
“I didn’t realize that you were so easy to bribe.”
“Well, I did warn him that if he did anything—anything—to mess up the party, I would use those steak knives to fillet him like a mackerel and then feed the bloody chunks to the catfish in the Aneirin River.”
I nodded my approval. “Now, that’s the boss I know and love.”
“Besides, it’s the holidays. I gotta have goodwill toward men sometime, right?” Gin grinned and slung her arm around my shoulders. “Now, come with me. I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up.”
She steered me through the crowd. At least, she tried to. We had to stop every few feet to talk to someone, including Xavier, Roslyn Phillips, and my niece Catalina Vasquez, who was hanging out with her friends Eva Grayson and Violet Fox. Finally, though, we broke free of the crowd and made it over to the counter. To my surprise, a silver foil box topped with a glittery red bow was sitting on my usual stool.
Gin grabbed the box and held it out to me, a big grin on her face. “This is for you.”
“But I . . . don’t have your present. At least, not here with me.”
I’d been in such a rush to get back to the Pork Pit that I’d completely forgotten Gin’s present: an apron with her Wanted poster and a photo from Bullet Pointe emblazoned on the front. It was a bit cheesy, but I knew that she would love it, especially since she’d threatened to give me a holiday sweater with my own Wanted poster and face on it.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I know we didn’t say that we were doing presents today, but I wanted to go ahead and give yours to you. So open it. Gin’s orders.”
Guilt surged through me, and I felt even worse than I had at the warehouse when I’d realized that Martin had been conning me. I didn’t deserve a present, not when I’d almost spilled all of Gin’s secrets. But I knew from the expectant look on her face that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. So I took the present from her, set it back down on the stool, and carefully removed the lid. I dug down through the layers of red tissue paper inside to find . . .
A brand-new phone and tablet, complete with chargers, a keyboard, and all the other accessories that my techie’s heart desired.
“Why did you . . . how did you know . . .”
My voice trailed off, and I glanced over at Sophia, thinking that she had ratted me out after all, but the dwarf was busy talking to Phillip Kincaid, Cooper Stills, Warren T. Fox, Stuart Mosley, and Mallory and Lorelei Parker.
“Well, you’re always talking about how you need to upgrade your electronics,” Gin said. “So I asked the guy at the store what the latest, greatest, bestest phone and tablet on the market were. He recommended these.” She frowned. “Did I get the wrong thing?”
“Oh, no! These are perfect. Just what I was thinking about getting for myself, actually.”
It was true. I’d been lusting after this particular phone and tablet for weeks now. I’d just been waiting for the prices to drop a little bit more before I splurged and bought them as Christmas presents for myself.
Gin nudged the box. “Keep looking.”
I pulled aside another layer of tissue paper and found the final thing inside the box: a very nice foiled hardback copy of The Maltese Falcon. I gave Gin a puzzled look.
“I noticed you reading it a while back,” she said. “You really seemed to be enjoying it, so I thought that you might like your own copy.”
So many emotions surged through me. Surprise. Delight. Happiness. And most of all, gratitude for Gin’s thoug
htfulness and especially for her friendship. Those were the best presents she would ever give me.
“Silvio?” Gin asked. “Are you okay? You have a really weird look on your face.”
I put the book back into the box with the phone and the tablet, then cleared my throat and turned to her. “I would like to hug you now, if that’s okay.”
She laughed. “It’s more than okay. You don’t have to ask permission, you know.”
“Yes, I do. Today I have to ask permission.”
I held out my arms, and Gin stepped into my embrace. We hugged for several seconds before we both let go. She reached out and smoothed down my suit jacket, along with my silk tie. Her fingers lingered on my spider rune for a few seconds before she let go and looked at me again.
“You know there’s blood on your tiepin, right?” she murmured, her gray eyes suddenly sharp. “Care to tell me where it came from?”
“I stabbed myself in the thumb putting it on,” I lied.
She arched her eyebrows, clearly not believing my weak excuse, but she decided not to call me on it. Not today anyway.
“Well, now that you’ve opened your present, you need to eat something. C’mon. Before Finn inhales all the food. I saved some cookies just for you.”
She hooked her arm through mine, and I looked over at her.
“Merry Christmas, Gin.”
“Merry Christmas, Silvio.”
We smiled at each other, and then I let her pull me over to the buffet so she could ply me with sugar to her heart’s content.
And I realized something.
Christmas might be for children, but I was safe with Gin and the rest of my friends now, and I was determined to make this one of the best holidays that I’d ever had, blood, bodies, betrayal, barbecue, and all.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the
next book in the Elemental Assassin series
By Jennifer Estep
Nice Guys Bite Page 6