Mason shrugged. “I dropped several unexpected revelations on you yesterday. I wanted to see how you were processing things.”
A low, harsh laugh bubbled up out of my lips. “You mean the fact that my assassin mentor worked for you, my uncle, the man who orchestrated the murders of my father, mother, and older sister? Yes, I suppose those were unexpected revelations.”
Mason shrugged again. “Be bitter all you want. But at least I told you the truth, Genevieve. That’s more than Fletcher ever did. He probably would have been quite happy if you had never found out about the Circle—especially his part in it. Fletcher and I did a lot of great things together. Why, he’s the one who eliminated some of my more prominent, dangerous enemies and paved the way for me to finally, fully take control of the underworld. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”
Every word he said made me want to kill him even more, and I had to dig my nails into my palms again to keep from reaching for my knives. For once, the feel of my spider-rune scars didn’t calm, comfort, or steady me. No, sensing the symbols and thinking about all the death, violence, and destruction that went along with them made me angrier and angrier, until red-hot rage thump-thump-thumped through my veins in time with my heart.
As much as I hated to admit it, Mason was right. He had told me the truth, while Fletcher had done his best to bury it forever. And once again, I couldn’t help but wonder why.
Had Fletcher been afraid that I wouldn’t forgive him? That I wouldn’t understand? That I would fly into a rage and try to kill him? I didn’t know the answers to my questions, which only added to my anger, frustration, and confusion.
“What do you want?” I snapped again. “I have other things to do besides wait on you.”
A thin smile tugged up Mason’s lips. “So demanding. So arrogant. So self-righteous. You really are just like Fletcher.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t, because the bastard was right about that too. A few days ago, pride would have filled me at being compared to Fletcher. Now disgust rolled through me instead.
Mason leaned forward, planted his elbows on the tabletop, and steepled his hands together. “I assume by now you’ve torn Fletcher’s house apart looking for the ledger. Any luck?”
“No,” I muttered. “I searched the house from top to bottom last night, but Fletcher didn’t hide it there.”
“I didn’t think he did. That would have been far too obvious. Besides, I sent some men to search his house a while back. They were quite thorough, and they didn’t find the ledger or any clues to its location.”
I frowned. I had been living in Fletcher’s house for more than a year. No one had been inside without my knowing about it—
A vague memory popped into my mind. A couple of months before he died, Fletcher had told me that someone had broken into the house. He’d said that nothing had been taken and had dismissed it as drunk kids being stupid, but it must have been Mason’s men.
“In case you were wondering, the ledger isn’t here either.” I gestured out at the restaurant. “Madeline Monroe burned the Pork Pit down to the brick walls last year. Emery was here. She stood right outside and watched it burn.”
The giant shifted in her seat, and her hazel eyes glinted with anger. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed at the reminder that I’d killed Madeline or because I’d suggested that it could partially be her fault that Mason didn’t have his ledger.
“I considered the possibility that Fletcher might have hidden the ledger here,” Mason replied. “My men also searched the restaurant, several times, as a matter of fact, but they never found it. And you’re right. If it was secreted away in here, then it burned to ash when Madeline torched the restaurant.”
Once again, I wondered exactly when his men had searched the Pork Pit, but I didn’t ask. Besides, it didn’t matter, since they hadn’t found anything. Fletcher might have been arrogant, but he was also the smartest person I’d ever met. He would have anticipated Mason’s men searching his house and restaurant, and he would have hidden the ledger someplace his enemies would never think to look.
I just hoped he hadn’t hidden it someplace I would never think to look either.
Mason’s gaze flicked past me and settled on Liam Carter, who had moved over to sit on a stool next to Silvio. Liam had his arms crossed over his muscled chest, watching my uncle, along with Emery, the giants, and Tucker.
“I see you’ve hired Mr. Carter for added protection,” Mason said. “Smart. He has an outstanding reputation, and his clients almost always survive whatever trouble they’re in. How much did you tell him about me?”
“Liam knows enough to do the job I’m paying him for,” I replied, choosing my words carefully and being deliberately vague. The last thing I could afford was for my uncle to realize what I’d really hired Liam to do.
Mason nodded, accepting my ambiguous answer, then glanced at Silvio and Sophia. “And you’re still employing Mr. Sanchez and Ms. Deveraux. Quite the motley crew you’ve assembled.”
“They get the job done. I wouldn’t be here without them.”
It was true. Silvio and Sophia had saved me more times than I cared to remember, as had Owen, Finn, Bria, and the rest of our friends. I owed them all my life several times over, which was one of the reasons I was so determined to protect them from Mason.
“Fair enough. I prefer my employees to be a bit more deferential, but to each their own.”
And that was one of the major differences between us. My friends were my friends, not my employees. Even though Silvio and Sophia technically worked for me, they were family, and I would take a bullet for both of them, along with everyone else.
Oh, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows with my friends. Finn and I had fought like cats and dogs when we were kids, and I’d had serious arguments and disagreements with him, Bria, and Owen, but we always found a way to work things out and forgive each other.
But Mason didn’t think that way, and he didn’t seem like the forgiving type. He also didn’t seem to have any true friends, not even Tucker, even though they’d grown up together. Then again, forgiveness and friends were probably alien concepts to a man who had tortured his own brother to death and ordered the murders of his sister-in-law and three nieces.
Mason’s hands were still steepled together, and he considered me over the tops of his fingers. “After our meeting yesterday, it occurred to me that perhaps I should have used a different tactic with you,” he said in a pleasant voice. “More carrot than stick.”
I tensed. With people like Mason, there were no carrots, only sticks. Or stones, in his case. “What do you mean?” I asked, anticipating more threats.
“Come work for me, Gin.”
Shock blasted through me. That was the very last thing I’d expected him to say.
“The Circle started out as a family business,” Mason said. “I know we’ve had our differences, but you and I are family, Gin. Whether you like it or not.”
Oh, I most definitely did not like being reminded of that ugly, inescapable fact.
“Somehow, despite all the obstacles and enemies that have come your way, you have thrived as the queen of the Ashland underworld,” Mason continued. “Just think of what you could do—of what we could do—if you had my backing, resources, and approval.”
I studied him, wondering if this was some cruel, sick joke, but he looked and sounded completely sincere. Nice smile, calm demeanor, smooth, silky voice, warm hypnotic stare. In that instant, Mason almost seemed…charming. Suddenly, I could understand how he’d snowballed Fletcher into thinking that he wanted to make Ashland a better place.
I glanced over at Emery and the two giants, but they were still eating. A muscle ticked in Tucker’s jaw, but that was his only reaction.
I focused on Mason again. “You’re actually serious.” I didn’t even try to keep the surprise out of my voice. “You really want me to work for you, for the Circle.”
“Yes. Just like Fletcher did.” The warmth in his eye
s vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating light. “You must get tired of the underworld bosses sending their minions to try to kill you. How many times have you fought for your life in this restaurant? Or in the alley out back? Or at Fletcher’s house?”
He was absolutely right. I was tired of the assassination attempts, as well as dealing with the bosses and their petty problems and disputes. Being the so-called queen of the underworld was nothing but an enormous, never-ending headache.
Mason took my silence for agreement and kept talking. “I could make all of that go away. No more people trying to kill you. No more bosses questioning your authority. No one causing problems for you and your friends. All your worries, troubles, and cares would vanish. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers, and I couldn’t help but flinch at the sharp sound.
Mason stared at me, expecting an answer, but I looked at the other people in the restaurant. Emery and the giants kept right on eating their food. They didn’t care whether I agreed to my uncle’s proposal. They knew the same thing I did—that he would always be the boss, no matter what sort of power or partnership he promised me.
Over at the counter, Silvio and Sophia were staring at me, concern creasing their faces, while Liam was eyeing me with curiosity.
And then there was Hugh Tucker. The vampire’s face was as blank and impassive as before, but he quietly, subtly tapped his index finger on the tabletop. Once he was sure he had my attention, he deliberately slid his finger to the side in a clear no.
Why was he warning me away? Maybe the vampire didn’t want his own standing within the Circle further diminished. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want me to get trapped in the same sticky web he was in.
Even without Tucker’s warning, I knew a too-good-to-be-true offer when I heard one, and Mason was clearly serving up some bullshit, pie-in-the-sky hopes and dreams. Did he really think I was that stupid? Or gullible? That I would just forget the awful things he’d done to my family? But I decided to play along to see what he wanted—and what he really hoped to gain by coming here.
“And how would that work, exactly?” I asked. “Me being part of your organization? Becoming part of the Circle?”
A satisfied smile slowly stretched across Mason’s face. He thought he’d hooked me, and now he wanted to reel me in. Fool.
“It would be simple,” he replied. “You would be the figurehead and handle most of the day-to-day business with the bosses. Then, when needed, I would step in and supply men, weapons, information. Anything you needed to deal with whatever people or problems were threatening us.”
It sounded like the same arrangement he’d had with Mab Monroe. Let me be the target so the other bosses would focus their time and energy on trying to kill me while Mason pulled the strings from behind the scenes. That hadn’t worked out so well for Mab, since I’d killed her, and I had a feeling this arrangement wouldn’t work out so well for me either.
As soon as Mason had the missing ledger, or accepted that its location had died with Fletcher, he would eliminate me and put someone else in my place. Someone he could control. Someone who didn’t despise him and wasn’t plotting to kill him.
“So I would do the hard, dirty work, and you would sit back and reap the rewards like you’ve been doing all along.” I shook my head. “Sorry, Uncle. Hard pass. I’m nobody’s puppet.”
Mason sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. The motion made his ring-of-swords cuff links glint at me again, almost in warning. “You should reconsider my kind offer. Especially since it’s the only one you’ll ever get from me.”
I barked out a harsh laugh. “Please. There’s nothing kind about your offer. You want to use me, scare me, control me, just like you did Mab. Well, here’s a news flash.” I leaned forward, my gray eyes just as cold and hard as his were. “I’m not Mab. So you can take your magic and your men and your sick, twisted agenda and shove them up your ass. I will never work for the Circle. I will never work for you.”
Emery and the two giants froze, while Tucker let out a soft, exasperated sigh. Over at the counter, Silvio tightened his grip on his tablet, and Sophia clutched her chopping knife, while Liam’s hand drifted around to the gun holstered in the small of his back.
Mason’s eyes narrowed, his lips puckered, and his head tilted to the side. His arms were still crossed over his chest, and he tap-tap-tapped his right index finger against his left elbow, considering how to respond to my insults. I grabbed hold of my Stone magic, ready to fight back if he decided to unleash his own power.
After several long, tense seconds, Mason’s finger stilled, and he swept his hand out to the side. “Take a good long look around, Gin. Soak up this moment. Enjoy this day as much as you can, because your time is rapidly running out. And while you’re doing that, here’s something for you to consider.” He leaned forward, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion. “I’m not Mab either, and you will regret this.”
I gave him another razor-thin smile. “Maybe. But not nearly as much as you’re going to regret threatening the people I love, sugar. Now, pay for your food, and get the fuck out of my restaurant.”
My own threats delivered, I slid out of the booth and stalked away.
* * *
I went back over to the counter and started helping Sophia fix food as though everything was normal. As though everything was fine. The whole time, though, I kept an eye on Mason.
For several seconds, he sat in the booth, a blank look on his face, although a muscle kept tick-tick-ticking in his jaw, hinting at his anger. It had probably been a long, long time since someone had told him no, especially in such blunt fashion.
Mason slid out of the booth. I tensed, thinking he might unleash his Stone magic, but he only tugged down his shirtsleeves and slipped back into his suit jacket. Once that was done, he went over to the rack, shrugged into his overcoat, and wrapped his scarf around his neck.
I thought—hoped—he might finally leave, but to my consternation, he strolled over to the counter. I tensed again and palmed a knife in case he decided to attack me, Silvio, or Sophia, but Mason had a different target in mind.
Liam Carter.
He stopped in front of Liam, who was still sitting on a stool next to Silvio. Mason reached inside his overcoat, plucked out a business card, and laid it on the counter next to Liam.
“Mr. Carter, so nice to meet you,” Mason said in a smooth tone. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your security firm. Call me. I have a proposal I’d love to discuss with you.”
No doubt, that proposal was wooing Liam and his protection services away from me. My uncle was about as subtle as a brick upside the head.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Liam said in a neutral tone, not looking at me.
Mason smiled at him, then turned and walked away. Liam watched him go, an unreadable expression on his own face.
So far, my supposed bodyguard hadn’t lived up to his reputation. First, Bria, Lorelei, and I had gotten kidnapped from the Posh boutique, and now Mason and his minions had invaded the Pork Pit. Once again, worry trickled through me about Liam’s true allegiance—or lack thereof—but I focused on my uncle again.
Mason opened the front door, making the bell chime, and strode outside. He moved past the storefront windows and vanished from sight.
I thought Emery and the two giants might hurry after him, but they got up slowly from their table. Emery dug a single dollar out of her coat pocket. She held it up where I could see it, then tossed it onto the table. So the bitch was a lousy tipper. No surprise there.
Emery smirked at me, then exited the restaurant, with the two giants trailing along behind her.
That left Hugh Tucker, still sitting alone at his table. He sighed again, as though he’d found this whole confrontation quite tiring, then climbed to his feet and walked over to the counter.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked in a low, polite voice.
I totaled up Mason’s food on the cash register, along with what Emery and the two gi
ants had eaten, and told him the amount.
Tucker pulled out his wallet and handed me a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
But I didn’t want to be beholden to him, not for one lousy nickel, so I opened the register and counted out his change, down to the penny.
I shoved the money into his hand. “I don’t want your damn change.”
Tucker grimaced, but he tucked the cash into his wallet, then slid it and the coins into his coat pocket. “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he said. “But you made a mistake killing those giants in Blue Ridge Cemetery. Mason figured out you were the reason they were dead, and he decided enough was enough. Plus, he thought you might have already found the ledger, and he just couldn’t have that.”
“So he arranges for Bria to be kidnapped, then threatens to kill everyone I love if I don’t find his stupid book.” I snorted. “You must be thrilled to work for such a kind, generous man.”
Tucker’s lips curled with disgust. “As I’ve told you before, I don’t have a choice about working for Mason. No one in the Circle does. He killed your parents and took control of the group years ago, and no one has dared threaten him since.” He paused. “Not that there are many members left to try to usurp him, thanks to you. Just Mason, me, and a few others.”
“A member?” I clucked my tongue. “Oh, no, Tuck. You’re nothing but a dog on a leash, waiting for your master to snap his fingers and summon you.”
He shrugged off my insult. “We all belong somewhere and to something.”
I would have found something and someone else to belong to a long time ago, but I kept my snarky thought to myself. Tucker had chosen this path, and he would most likely dutifully trudge along it until someone killed him. My bet was on Emery offing the vampire. The giant didn’t seem to like sharing command, and she’d probably try to eliminate him sooner or later.
Tucker looked at me again. “I know you, Gin.”
“So?”
“So I know you’re already plotting some way you can trick Mason, or kill him.”
“So?”
“So it won’t work,” Tucker snapped. “Mason is smart and strong and more ruthless than anyone you’ve ever faced. Tristan tried to find a way to undercut Mason for years, and he was brutally tortured for his efforts. I would hate for you to do something equally stupid and meet the same gruesome fate as your father.”
Sharpest Sting: An Elemental Assassin Book Page 17