Poison Promise

4

A few more customers came into the restaurant, but it looked like it was going to be a slow night, so I decided to close early.

Besides, I wanted to go home and go through Fletcher’s files to see if there was any mention of the auburn-haired woman and her giant friend. The two of them hadn’t said a single word to me, but I couldn’t help but think that they were a dangerous threat all the same. Folks always said that animals could sniff out evil, and I’d gotten pretty good at it myself these past few months. I’d had to, in order to survive.

Catalina was the last of the waitstaff to leave. She pushed through the double doors and stepped into the storefront, her backpack dangling from her hand. She called out a soft good night to Sophia, who grunted in response, and rounded the end of the counter.

Catalina stopped in front of me. “Good night, Gin,” she said, even though her gaze skittered away from mine just like it had all day long.

“Night.”

Catalina gave me a tight, awkward smile, still not really looking at me, then headed for the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. She stood on the sidewalk and hooked her backpack over her shoulder, the sunlight making the pig pin on the side of her bag sparkle with an evil light. Catalina pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and started checking her messages as she strolled down the street and out of sight.

I stopped wiping down the counter and watched her go, wondering if Finn had found out anything yet about her, where her money was coming from, or her boy Troy—

Think of the devil, and he shall appear.

Troy Mannis stepped into view right outside of the windows. He stared in the direction Catalina had gone, then turned and said something to someone behind him. A second later, the same two vamps who’d been with him at the community college joined him. Together, the three of them headed after Catalina.

I’d been so sure that Troy would come after me for kicking his ass that it had never occurred to me that he might take his anger out on Catalina instead. But I didn’t need an Air elemental’s precognition to know what he and his friends would do to her the second they got her alone.

“Where does Catalina usually park her car?” I asked Sophia, throwing down my towel.

“Garage on Broad Street. Why?” the dwarf rasped.

“Her little problem from last night has reappeared.”

I had told Sophia what had happened to Catalina at the college when the dwarf had helped me open the restaurant this morning. Her black eyes sharpened. “Need some help?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Stay here and close down the Pit, please. Besides, it’s been a slow day. I could use the exercise. If I need you, I’ll call for pickup and disposal afterward. Okay?”

Sophia’s grin matched the ones of the hot pink skulls on her apron. “It’s a date.”

I pulled open the front door of the restaurant and stepped outside. It was still muggy out, although the heat wasn’t as oppressive as it had been earlier in the day, and the faintest note of fall whispered in the air, one that said that the warm day would soon give way to a deliciously cool night.

I scanned the pedestrians and spotted Troy about a block ahead of me. Despite the heat, he wore a black leather jacket, and so did the two vamps who were with him. You didn’t wear something like that in this weather unless you had something to hide. Like, say, a gun or some other weapon.

I needed to get to Catalina before Troy and his friends did, so I jogged across the street and cut through an alley on the far side. But the narrow passage wasn’t deserted—far from it.

Several hookers leaned against the Dumpsters that lined the walls, wearing sky-high stilettos, sequined tube tops, and leather miniskirts that were barely bigger than the towels that I used to wipe down tables. The women had been chatting and laughing before they started plying their wares for the night, but their easy camaraderie and chuckles faded the second I entered the alley.

One of them shot me an angry glare for daring to wander into their territory. “Get lost, honey. This ain’t no amateur hour around here.”

Another hooker grabbed her arm. “Shh! Don’t you know who that is?”

She whispered something in her friend’s ear that made the other woman’s mouth gape open and her knees knock together. My assassin moniker, most likely. The hookers who worked the streets around the restaurant had heard the rumors about who I really was, and they were smart enough to believe them. The first woman ducked her head to me in a silent apology, but I was in too much of a hurry to care.

Most of the women gave me sharp, respectful nods as I passed, even going so far as to step back so I could jog by them more easily. Others actually moved all the way behind the Dumpsters, plastering themselves up against the alley walls as flat and as fast as they could. None of them actually spoke to me, but they knew that I was even more dangerous than their pimps lounging in the cars parked on the surrounding streets, and they didn’t want to do anything to attract my attention.

I reached the end of that alley and cut through two more before I ended up on Broad Street. Since it wasn’t one of the main drags, this area was mostly deserted, except for the few commuters who hadn’t left downtown already and were rushing to their cars in the hopes of getting home in time for dinner and to tuck their kids into bed.

I looked left and right, but I didn’t see Catalina anywhere. She must be in the garage already. If I was lucky, she was alone, and Troy and his friends hadn’t gotten here yet. If I wasn’t lucky, well, Sophia would come and help me clean up the mess, like she’d promised. So I palmed one of the silverstone knives hidden up my sleeves, hopped over the metal pole that barred the exit, and entered the garage.

The stones started murmuring the second I stepped into the structure.

Naturally.

The cold, graffiti-tagged concrete bellowed like a chorus of bullfrogs—low, dark, and sinister. I tightened my grip on my knife and slid into the nearest shadow, scanning the rows of vehicles, wondering if Troy and his friends were already here. But the stone continued to rumble at a steady level, and I realized that it was only reflecting back the paranoia of all the folks who’d scurried to their cars, worried that they were going to be mugged, and especially of the ones who’d had their fears realized and their heads dashed against the pillars while some lowlife rifled through their pockets.

Satisfied that I was alone, I moved deeper into the garage. My boots scuffed on the concrete, while the smells of gas, oil, and exhaust hung in the air. I didn’t spot Catalina on this level, so I crept up the stairs to the second story. I paused in the open doorway, listening. Footsteps echoed on this level, the steady beat almost drowning out the soft tune she was humming, one I recognized from all her hours at the Pork Pit. I shook my head. If Troy didn’t hurt Catalina, someone else lurking here surely would. She was practically painting a target on herself, making that much cheerful noise in a place as dark and dangerous as this.

I left the doorway behind and headed into the main part of the garage. Several cars squatted in their spaces, waiting for their owners to come claim them for the night. Catalina was walking down the center of concrete, not even bothering to glance around to see if anyone was following her. I shook my head again. It was a wonder she hadn’t been mugged in here before now.

Catalina spun her key ring around and around on her index finger as she approached her car, the same very nice Benz that she’d been driving at the college. She stopped by the driver’s door.

“Hello, Catalina,” I called out.

She shrieked and whirled around, her keys flying off her finger and clattering to the concrete. Her eyes bulged even more when she realized that it was me calling out her name, but her expression quickly turned wary, and she couldn’t hide the fear that flickered in her gaze—fear of me.

My heart clenched at the sight, at the knowledge that she was scared of me, or at least scared of my supposed reputation as the Spider. I would never intentionally hurt an innocent person, but she had no way of knowing that.

“Gin?” Catalina asked, her hand latching onto the door handle, even though the car was still locked. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you.”

She frowned. “From what?”

“Your ex-boyfriend. The oh-so-lovely gentleman who was hassling you last night.”

Her frown deepened. “Troy? What’s he got to do with this?”

“Everything. When you left the Pork Pit, he and his friends were right behind you. Call me crazy, but I doubt that they just want to talk.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. Carrying my knives was second nature to me, and I didn’t even realize that I was still holding one of them until Catalina’s gaze locked onto the blade glinting in my right hand. She eased to the side, putting a little more distance between us.

“Troy wouldn’t hurt me,” she said, her voice cracking on the last two words. “Not really. He’s a hothead with a big mouth, that’s all.”

“And what about his friends?” I countered. “They’re not going to be too happy about the beat-down I gave them. Neither will whoever they work for—trust me. Troy and his friends aren’t on their way here to offer you a heartfelt apology.”

Catalina opened her mouth, but the heavy smack of footsteps cut her off.

“C’mon.” Troy’s voice drifted over to us from a distance. “The bitch has got to be up here.”

Catalina sucked in a surprised breath, but I was already moving forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her around to the opposite side of her car. I made her crouch down beside me in the shadows.

“You stay here,” I ordered. “Out of the way. I’ll deal with Troy and his friends—”

This time, I was the one who got cut off by the squeal of tires and the rumble of several engines.

I scooted forward and peered around the back of Catalina’s car. Troy and his two friends had gotten here faster than I’d expected, because they now stood in the middle of this section of the garage. But Troy was as surprised as I was by the noise, and he turned to look behind him.

Two black Cadillac Escalades zoomed up onto this level, one going right and the other turning left, both of them stopping just before they hit the concrete walls. A few seconds later, a third car sedately drove up and parked in the middle of the metal V that the other two vehicles had created.

Unlike the other dark, anonymous cars, the third vehicle was completely memorable—an old-fashioned baby-blue Bentley that was chromed, waxed, and polished to perfection. It was the sort of fancy, high-end car that Finn always drooled over, one that was known throughout Ashland but especially over in Southtown, where its owner lived.

Now I knew exactly who Troy dealt for. Things had just gone from bad to worse. Story of my life.

Catalina crept up beside me, peering around my shoulder. She sucked in a breath when she spotted the blue car. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

Yeah. That about summed things up.

“Stay still, and be quiet,” I murmured. “No matter what happens. And if I tell you to run, then you run, and you don’t look back.”

Catalina nodded, too frightened to do anything else.

Men poured out of the two black Escalades, six of them total, all wearing dark suits and sporting wing tips that were as clean and shiny as their cars. They were all smiling, showing off a set of perfect, polished fangs in each and every one of their mouths. I’d heard that their boss was big on his men always looking their best, right down to their pearly-whites.

I looked past the enforcers to the man who got out of the driver’s seat of the Bentley. He was short and lean, and everything about him was a soft gray, from his suit and shirt to his hair and eyes. Silvio Sanchez. I’d never had the misfortune of meeting him, although I knew him by reputation. Smart. Ruthless. Vicious. The sort of sneaky, underhanded, backstabbing vampire you did not want to mess with.

Silvio being here was bad enough, but he opened the back door of the Bentley so that another man could get out—one who was a hundred times more dangerous than Silvio had ever dreamed of being.

Truth be told, the other man wasn’t an impressive figure. Oh, he was around six feet tall, but his arms and legs seemed almost too long for the rest of him, as though he were a gangly teenager who hadn’t grown into his own body yet. He had a string-bean physique and not much in the way of muscles, a fact that his clothes emphasized. His white pants almost completely covered up his white sneakers, while his long-sleeved button-up shirt was about two sizes too big, although the baby-blue fabric perfectly matched the paint on his Bentley. A white bow tie patterned with baby-blue polka dots hung loose and limp around his neck.

His face looked young too, his skin pale, his cheeks rounded with a perpetual bit of baby fat, even though I knew he had to be at least forty, if not older. His black hair was slightly mussed, as if he ran his hands through it repeatedly and didn’t care how it looked. Silver glasses perched on the end of his hawkish nose, making his pale blue eyes seem larger than they actually were.

All put together, he looked like a calm, quiet, geeky kind of guy, a fact that the pens and notepad sticking out of the plastic pocket protector on the front of his shirt only reinforced. But he was anything but the mild-mannered fellow he appeared to be. I knew him by reputation too.

Beauregard Benson, the drug-dealing vampire king of Southtown.