Sharpest Sting

by Jennifer Estep

  “I want to hire you because of Fletcher’s file, but there are other reasons.” I paused. “Mainly, what happened to your sister.”

  Liam had been about to take another sip of his own gin, and he froze, his glass poised in midair. That muscle in his jaw ticked again, and he slammed his drink down on the table hard enough to make a loud clank ring out. Gin sloshed over the side of the glass and dripped onto my file. His fingers clenched around the container, and I got the impression he’d like to smash it into my face.

  “What do you know about my sister?” he growled.

  “Her name was Leila,” I said, my voice as quiet as his was harsh. “She was five years younger than you. Smart, kind, pretty. One of her girlfriends started hanging out with the wrong people, including a guy who became obsessed with Leila. And not just any guy, but a crooked cop.”

  Liam abruptly released his glass, leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and dropped his head. The porch lights added a golden halo to his dark brown hair, even as they cast his face in shadow.

  “This cop, Dwayne Nelson, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he started stalking Leila. Eventually, your sister came to you for help.”

  A low, harsh, bitter laugh tumbled out of Liam’s lips and splattered onto the floorboards. “But I didn’t help her.”

  “Yes, you did,” I replied in a firm voice. “You hid your sister in a safe house for weeks. It wasn’t your fault Nelson eventually found her. It was just bad luck.”

  “Sometimes I think that’s the only kind of fucking luck I have,” Liam growled again.

  I could certainly sympathize with that sentiment.

  He jerked his head at the file folder. “I assume you have the police report. And photos of what that bastard did. How he killed the men guarding my sister, then beat and strangled her.”

  Beat and strangled were bland, technical words for the brutal trauma and torture that Leila had suffered.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  And I truly was. I didn’t like using Fletcher’s information this way. Emotional blackmail and manipulation were a new low, even for me. But I didn’t want to see my loved ones end up like Leila Carter—or worse. And if that meant being selfish and inflicting some pain on Liam, then so be it. Fletcher wasn’t the only one who knew how to get people to do what he wanted.

  “I’m also assuming you know that Nelson skated on a technicality,” Liam muttered. “His cop buddies didn’t properly read Nelson his rights. Or so his scumbag lawyer claimed.”

  “Yes.”

  I also knew the cop’s lawyer had been Jonah McAllister, one of my old enemies, although I didn’t mention it. Thanks to me, McAllister was stewing in his Northtown mansion, awaiting trial on multiple counts of murder, among other things.

  Liam shook his head, as if pushing away bad memories, then sat up and violently rocked back in his chair, making it screech in protest. His gaze locked onto the folder sitting on the table, although I got the impression he wasn’t really seeing it.

  “Ever since your sister’s murder, you’ve been quietly doing pro bono work on the side,” I continued. “You help women and men get out of abusive relationships, deal with stalkers, things like that. Sometimes you help people navigate their problems through the legal system. And sometimes, if there isn’t a legal solution, you help them disappear. You give them new names, new jobs, new lives far from the people who want to hurt them. Your own sort of witness-protection service.”

  “Running and hiding is the only option for some folks,” he said in a dull, defeated tone. “Some people just don’t know when to leave someone else alone. They would rather see their wives or girlfriends or husbands or boyfriends dead than let them leave.”

  “Sadly, I know all about the twisted things people do to each other because of money or jealousy or what they think is love.”

  We both lapsed into silence. Liam slowly rocked back and forth in his chair, staring out into the dark night, while I poured myself another glass of gin and topped off his. Liam roused himself out of his memories, grabbed his drink, and threw back the alcohol.

  “After Leila was murdered, I looked for Dwayne Nelson for days.” He eyed me over the rim of his glass again. “Strange thing, though. I never could find him.”

  I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of my own gin.

  “But the really strange thing was that Nelson turned up dead about two weeks later. His throat was cut, and he’d been stabbed through the heart for good measure.” Liam kept eyeing me. “His crooked cop buddies found Nelson’s body stuffed in an old, empty oil drum outside a Southtown bar where they hung out. The cops initially thought I had killed Nelson, but I was protecting a client at a corporate event and had a rock-solid alibi for the night he went missing.”

  “Lucky you had an alibi,” I murmured.

  “Luck?” He snorted. “We both know it wasn’t luck.”

  I took another sip of my drink.

  “You know what else is strange?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Lennie Wilson, my client, was killed the exact same way as Nelson. Throat cut, stabbed through the heart. When the cops showed me the photos of Nelson’s body, I had this weird flashback to Lennie Wilson, and I had this crazy thought that someone was trying to send me a message.”

  We both knew it wasn’t crazy at all.

  “Why did you do it?” Liam asked. “Why did you kill Nelson?”

  “It wasn’t me. That was all Fletcher,” I replied. “As for why he did it, well, the old man never enjoyed seeing innocent people get hurt. But when people did get hurt, he liked to give their loved ones what justice and closure he could.”

  “He robbed me of getting my own revenge,” Liam growled.

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  He threw his hand up. “How else am I supposed to look at it?”

  I stared him down. “Fletcher kept you from getting caught. After your sister was murdered, you weren’t exactly subtle about your desire to kill that corrupt cop. So Fletcher waited until there was a night he was sure you would have an alibi before he took out Nelson. The old man had a code, and he didn’t want you to go to prison for a crime you didn’t commit on top of losing your sister.”

  Liam’s fingers clenched around his glass, and I once again got the impression he wanted to smash it into my face. Couldn’t blame him for that. His jaw clenched, and emotions flashed like lightning strikes in his eyes. Grief. Rage. Sorrow. And finally, the thing I had been hoping to see all along: a bit of grudging respect.

  “It’s too bad your mentor is dead. I would have liked to meet him.” Liam snorted. “Although I’m not sure whether I would shake his hand or punch him in the mouth. Maybe both.”

  A familiar, sharp sting of guilt throbbed in my heart at the fact that I hadn’t been able to save Fletcher from being tortured and murdered inside the Pork Pit, but I pushed the pain aside. Now was not the time to wallow in my own regrets.

  Liam waved his hand over the check and the file still on the table. “So this is why you picked me. You thought you could summon me here, give me a big, fat check, drop these revelations, and recruit me over to your side. That is stone-cold, even for an assassin.”

  I shrugged. “I’m sorry to dredge up bad memories, but I didn’t have time to wine and dine and woo you. Not after the mistake I made at the cemetery tonight. Besides, you wanted the truth, so I gave it to you.”

  He grimaced, but he couldn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair again, and a far more speculative look filled his eyes. “Say that I actually agree to this madness, to help you. What’s to keep me from betraying you? And not just to Mason. There are plenty of people in Ashland who want you dead.”

  He tapped his finger on the check. “I could easily double, triple, quadruple this, just by making a couple of phone calls when the time is right.”

  “Well, I can think of three things right off the top of my head. The most obvious is that I don’t take too kindly to betrayal, sugar.”

/>   Despite my threat, Liam kept staring at me, not backing down. His courage and tenacity made me like him even more.

  “The second thing is that I’ve killed a whole lot of powerful people, many of whom mistakenly thought they were stronger and smarter than me.” I gestured at the file. “Lennie Wilson is proof of that. I got the better of you back then. If you were to ever betray me, I would be far more motivated to kill you than I was with Wilson or any of your other clients I’ve offed over the years. Only I wouldn’t be so quick and kind as to cut your throat and stab you. Betrayal makes me want to take my time and use my knives and elemental magic to their fullest extent.”

  He blanched a little, but he kept his gaze steady on mine. “And the third thing?”

  “Betrayal’s not in your nature, Liam. When you give someone your word, then you do your best to keep it, no matter what.”

  He barked out a laugh. “That’s it? That’s your big justification for trusting me? I’m a criminal, Gin. Just like you are. I take money from bad people to do bad things. That makes me a sinner, not a saint.”

  “I’m not interested in hiring a saint,” I snapped back. “I need a sinner who’s just as bad as I am to make sure my friends survive this. You lost your sister, and I lost Fletcher. We both know the sharp stings of their losses will never completely vanish. I can’t stand to lose anyone else. I don’t care what happens to me, but I will protect my family. And if that means trusting you, then so be it.”

  Liam kept staring at me. For once, I lowered my guard and let the worry seep into my features. Several seconds ticked by in silence.

  Finally, Liam dropped his gaze and reached inside his coat. I tensed, thinking that maybe I had pushed him too far too fast, and he was going to yank out a gun and try to shoot me. Instead, he drew out a dollar, along with a black marker. Then he uncapped the marker and scribbled a few words on the bill.

  When he was finished, he capped the marker and slid it back inside his coat. Then he handed the dollar to me. He’d written our names on the bill, along with today’s date.

  “I give one of these to all my clients as proof of contract. As of this moment, I’m officially yours. I’ll help you implement your plan and protect your friends as best I can from Mason and anyone who works for him.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t thank me until it’s over.”

  I nodded and slid my check across the table. Liam took the paper and slipped it inside his coat.

  I grabbed my glass of gin and held it up. Liam sighed, but he grabbed his own glass and clinked it against mine. And with that soft, solitary note, we both took a drink, sealing our dangerous bargain.

  Chapter Four

  Despite my worries about Mason striking out at me, the next few days passed by quietly. Just after ten o’clock on Wednesday, three mornings after the cemetery fight, I was standing behind the long counter in the back of the Pork Pit, getting ready for another day of catering to my customers’ cravings for barbecue.

  “I still can’t believe you hired him,” a low voice muttered.

  I looked up from the tomatoes I was slicing for the day’s sandwiches and focused on the fifty-something man sitting on a stool across the counter from me. He looked quite dapper and distinguished in his sleek gray suit, which brought out his gray eyes and hair, along with his bronze skin. A small silverstone pin shaped like my spider rune glinted in the middle of his gray striped tie.

  Silvio Sanchez, my personal assistant, was tap-tap-tapping his finger against his tablet screen and glancing over at the booth in the far back corner. Liam Carter must have heard the vampire’s words, because he cheerfully toasted Silvio with his coffee mug. Liam turned his attention back to his newspaper, although a wry, knowing smile curved the corners of his lips.

  “Come on,” Silvio muttered again. “The man still reads in print. Barbarian.”

  I hid a smile. “Just because Liam prefers to peruse old-fashioned paper over the latest, greatest electronic gizmo doesn’t mean he’s not good at his job.”

  Silvio ignored me, still staring at the other man. “Just look at him. Sitting over there drinking coffee, reading the newspaper, and being smug. I still don’t understand why you felt the need to hire him to protect the restaurant. You’re an assassin, Gin. By now, most people know better than to mess with you.”

  “Most people, but sadly not all. I’m tired of random punks trying to kill me whenever I take out the trash to the back alley. One of the reasons I hired Liam was to put an end to that. Thanks to the giant guard he has stationed in the alley, no one’s tried to murder me there so far this week.”

  Silvio swiveled back around to me. “And the other reasons you hired him? The ones you’re not telling me about?”

  I bit back a curse. The vampire knew me far too well, which was one of the many things that made him such a good assistant and a great friend.

  “You know all the other reasons,” I said in a light, breezy tone. “Mason and Tucker are out there somewhere, not to mention the underworld bosses, most of whom would be delighted by my death. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have Liam review my security procedures and give the restaurant an added layer of protection. At least until the situation with the Circle is resolved. Then we can go back to dealing with our regularly scheduled bad guys on our own.”

  “Right,” Silvio drawled in a disbelieving tone. “Because you’re not nearly careful and paranoid enough already. Tell me, after you parked your car this morning, how many times did you check and make sure you weren’t being followed before coming to the restaurant?”

  “Three, and Liam said that I should have made it four. See? He’s earning his keep already.”

  Silvio’s gray eyes narrowed. And he thought I was paranoid. Please. He definitely took the gold medal in that sport.

  I didn’t want him to keep asking questions about what Liam was really doing here, so I changed the subject. “Just because you have a little crush on Liam is no reason not to trust him.”

  Silvio sniffed. “And I would argue that is precisely the reason I shouldn’t trust him. I don’t have a great track record when it comes to picking men, and my last coffee date was an unmitigated disaster.”

  His face darkened, and a disgusted scowl twisted his lips the way it always did whenever he mentioned his holiday date. Something bad had happened then, although Silvio had never told me about it. I’d get the truth out of him sooner or later, though.

  Still, I understood his suspicion and hesitation. It was hard for me to trust people too. I thought I’d gotten past the worst of it, but the recent revelations about my parents being Circle members had brought all my old fears bubbling back up to the surface again.

  If you couldn’t trust that your parents were good people, then how could you ever put your faith in anyone else? That question haunted me, especially given how open, honest, and vulnerable I’d made myself with Liam and how much I was relying on his help to deal with Mason. If I was wrong about Liam Carter, well, my death probably wouldn’t be the worst thing that happened.

  But I also didn’t want Silvio to make the same mistakes that I had, to isolate himself the way that I had for so long and potentially miss out on something great. So I put down my knife, reached over, and grabbed the vampire’s hand, making him stop his incessant tap-tap-tapping.

  “I showed you Fletcher’s file. Liam Carter is a good guy.”

  “Mostly a good guy,” Silvio muttered again. “He might protect people, but he’s still a criminal, Gin.”

  “And so are we,” I pointed out. “Look at it this way. I’m trusting Liam—for now. But the second he breaks that trust, then I will slice him up just as quickly as I did these tomatoes. I’ve made it abundantly clear to Liam exactly what will happen if he even thinks about betraying me. Does that make you feel better?”

  Silvio eyed the serrated tomato knife lying on the counter. “If I say yes, does that make me a horrible person?”

  “No more horrible th
an me.”

  He nodded, then cleared his throat and picked up his tablet. “Well, trust or not, it’s time for the morning briefing. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out much about those giants you killed in the cemetery. No criminal records, no bad habits, nothing like that. As far as I can tell, they were just hired muscle, and I haven’t found anything in their personal lives or social-media accounts that will lead us to Mason or Tucker.”

  I hadn’t expected Silvio to find anything, but at least he’d tried. My assistant was rather tenacious that way.

  He swiped through a couple of screens. “As to why the giants dug up Fletcher’s grave, well, that’s anybody’s guess. You’re absolutely sure Fletcher didn’t hide something in his own casket?”

  I shook my head. “No. Finn and I picked out that casket after Fletcher died. The old man didn’t have anything to do with it. Fletcher didn’t take any secrets with him into the ground. He just buried them in other people’s graves.”

  Silvio chuckled at my black humor and focused on his tablet again. “Well, several other things need your attention this morning…”

  He continued the briefing, informing me about the shenanigans of the various underworld bosses and those who wanted me to settle their petty disputes before they turned even more violent.

  Silvio had just wrapped up his report when a key scraped in the lock, and a woman opened the front door and stepped inside the restaurant. She was a dwarf, a little more than five feet tall, with a thick, muscled body. She shrugged out of her black trench coat, revealing a neon-blue sweater with a grinning skull done in silver sequins, along with black jeans and boots. The tips of her shoulder-length black hair were dyed the same neon-blue as her sweater. Her lips were also painted blue, and silvery shadow and liner made her black eyes pop in her pale face.

  Sophia Deveraux hung her coat on the rack by the front door, then looked out over the restaurant. I tracked her gaze, also scanning the familiar furnishings. Blue and pink vinyl booths lining the storefront windows. Tables and chairs squatting in the middle of the restaurant. Blue and pink pig tracks crisscrossing the floor.