Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom (22 page)

People dressed in tuxedoes, gowns, and flashing jewels
were already waiting their turn to lose their money—all of which was supposedly going to charity tonight. I rather doubted that, since Phillip Kincaid was one of the riverboat casino’s primary owners.

Kincaid was another of Ashland’s underworld sharks, just like Mab Monroe was, with his own network of enforcers and heavy hitters. He was already on deck, a six-foot-tall man with a chest that looked as dense as concrete beneath his white tuxedo. His sandy blond hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, all the better to show off his chiseled cheekbones and striking blue eyes. I’d never had any dealings with Kincaid, but rumor had it that his father had been a dwarf, his mother a giant. Hence his solid physique. I didn’t know where he’d gotten the pretty face from, though. Didn’t much matter. I put Kincaid out of my mind, since he wasn’t my target tonight.

According to Finn’s sources, a formal sit-down dinner would be held later in the evening. Through the open doors that led inside the riverboat, I spotted waiters hurrying to and fro with glasses, silverware, floral centerpieces, and more in the dining room. The inside of the ship was hollow and ringed with balconies, so the folks on the fourth, fifth, and sixth decks could look all the way down to the third floor, where a stage had been erected for dinner shows. The lower two decks were enclosed. That’s where the kitchen was housed, along with the money cages. I knew because Finn and I had spent the past few hours going over the riverboat’s schematics, among other things.

Finn grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to me. “How do you want to play this?”

I took a sip of champagne. “Let’s split up. I want to take a stroll around the deck, see what the security is like in person, and find a cozy spot where Elliot Slater and I can chat privately later on tonight. You keep an eye out for Roslyn and the giant. Call me when you spot them.”

“Okay,” Finn said. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

We broke apart. I sipped champagne and meandered through the gaming tables and small cliques of self-important people clustered together on the deck. The trophy wives, debutantes, and rich divorcees stood tall and resplendent in their jewel-colored designer dresses, peacocks preening for the penguin-suited men in attendance. And practically everyone—male and female—wore some small bauble that weighed in at several carats, whether it was a diamond choker or a ruby cufflink slyly winking from the end of a tuxedo sleeve. My Stone magic let me hear the gemstones’ proud whispers of their beauty, elegance, and fire, as vain and boastful as the people wearing them.

I shut the sound of the gemstones out of my mind and focused on the security detail for the evening. Several giants wearing dark suits roamed through the crowd, as was to be expected at one of these things. Several more stood with their arms crossed over their chests, keeping an eye on the players at the higher-end gaming tables. I counted five on this deck alone, and I knew that at least a few more would be patrolling the other levels and the interior of the riverboat, watching out for drunks and other potential problems. Each of the giants wore a large pin in the middle of his long tie that marked him as part of the security staff. The gold pins were shaped like the casino’s
rune—a dollar sign superimposed over an outline of the riverboat. Classy.

The amount of security was troublesome but not surprising. The
Delta Queen
was a casino, after all, and there were lots of whales here tonight with cash to lose.

Including Owen Grayson.

The businessman sat at a table at the very tip of the boat playing poker with a couple of other high rollers. Instead of the plastic red, white, and blue chips some of the other gamblers were using, stacks of solid gold chips sat in front of each player, marking their value as hundred thousand dollar tokens. Given the stakes they were playing for, a crowd had formed around the table. I edged my way close enough to get a good view of the action.

Like every man in attendance, Owen Grayson had dressed up for the evening in a tuxedo, but his choice of navy fabric made his eyes seem more blue than violet. Even though he was sitting down, I was once again struck by how compact, sturdy, and strong Owen’s frame was. His violet eyes glittered in his face, even as his blue-black hair disappeared into the shadows cast by the lights wrapped around the railing behind him. The scar under Owen’s lips was a thin white line, but it wasn’t unappealing. If anything, it added more character to his features. Hard and tough and sexy, that’s how he looked to me.

I wasn’t the only woman studying him. Several regarded Owen with open, predatory interest, mentally weighing his figure and pocketbook against the other gentlemen to determine who was most worthy of their attention this evening. But evidently the others found him as appealing as I did, because none of them made a
move to leave or go trolling past the other tables for more potential victims.

The dealer shuffled a fresh hand, and Owen used the lull in the action to scan the crowd around him. He stopped when he spotted me. Owen’s violet eyes trailed down my body, one slow inch at a time. Breasts, stomach, thighs, legs. He took it all in. A smile spread across his face, softening his hard features. I gave him a cool nod, acknowledging his approval of my dress. Owen’s smile widened, and he tipped his head in return.

“Sir?” the dealer asked Owen.

Owen looked at his cards and raised whatever bet had been given before. The man sitting to his left hemmed and hawed a minute before folding, and the others placed their bets. Owen’s violet gaze stayed on me a moment longer before focusing on his cards again. I moved on.

I walked through the hollow interior of the riverboat, where the staff was still busy setting all the tables for the evening’s dinner. The enclosed portion of the upper decks wrapped around a square, open area that featured a large, parquet stage fronted by black velvet curtains. The riverboat’s dinner shows were almost as popular as the gaming tables.

Once I’d acquainted myself with all the entrances, exits, and possible cubbyholes where I might quietly kill Elliot Slater, I did another swift circuit of the open deck. But the giant and Roslyn Phillips weren’t in attendance yet, so I went in search of Finn to see if he’d heard anything from Roslyn this evening.

As always, he was easy to find. Finnegan Lane had planted himself at the end of the bar that had been set
up on one side of the deck. Bars were one of Finn’s favorite places, rife with booze, gossip, the occasional salty snack, and pretty, inebriated women open to the raw suggestion in his hungry smile. I found him chatting up a sweet young thing who barely looked old enough to drink, much less afford the emerald drops dangling from her ears or the C-cups spilling out of the top of her dress. Somebody had a generous sugar daddy.

I tapped the girl on the shoulder and gave her a hard smile. “Sorry, sugar, but you need to move along now. My dear
husband
’s already taken for the evening.”

Finn huffed his disapproval. The girl’s brown eyes darted between the two of us. Evidently, she didn’t like the trouble she saw brewing in my cold face because she grabbed her strawberry daiquiri and scooted down to the other end of the bar in search of an easier prospect.

Finn sighed. “Did you really have to do that?”

“No.” I smiled. “But it sure was fun.”

“C’mon, Gin. You could have at least scared her off some other way. You know how I feel about the word
husband.
” Finn gave a delicate shudder. Any romantic commitment longer than a couple of hours was enough to make him jumpy.

I rolled my eyes. “We’re here to do a job, in case you’ve forgotten. You can hit on the young stuff once everything’s been taken care of for the night.
Capisce?
”

“Capisco,”
he muttered.

I leaned against the bar and surveyed the sparkling, laughing, chattering crowd before me. I recognized a lot of the faces, mostly through my time as the Spider. Sisters, mothers, brothers, husbands, stockholders. I’d helped a
lot of people on this boat get rid of their familial and business problems over the years in Ashland and beyond.

“Any sign of our friends yet?” I asked.

“No, but they should be here soon. Roslyn texted me a few minutes ago and said that Elliot Slater had just pulled into her driveway—” Finn jerked his head. “Hey, there they are.”

I looked to the left just in time to see Elliot Slater crest the top of the gangplank. The giant had one arm curled possessively around Roslyn Phillips’s hourglass waist. For her part, the vamp hung limp at his side like she was seasick and five seconds away from throwing up whatever she’d eaten today. Couldn’t blame Roslyn for that, after all she’d been through. I didn’t know that I would have made it this far in her shoes.

Two giants also dressed in tuxes followed Slater on board, moved ahead of him a few feet, and stopped, scanning the glittering crowd before them. Must be Slater’s de facto bodyguards for the evening.

Elliot Slater stepped to one side and turned, speaking to someone behind him. A moment later, two more figures stepped up and onto the riverboat—Jonah McAllister and Mab Monroe.

15

Finn saw my face tighten and my eyes darken with anger. “Something wrong?” he asked in a mild tone, even though he already knew the answer.

“I didn’t think Mab would be here tonight, since this is Phillip Kincaid’s casino,” I muttered. “The two of them hate each other. I thought Slater would be here alone, since gambling is one of his pastimes, according to your file on him.”

“Kincaid had to invite her, just like he had to invite Elliot Slater. Leave Mab Monroe and her flunkies off your guest list? That’s unthinkable in this town, even if Kincaid would be happy to dance on all their graves and take over Mab’s operations.” Finn nodded his head in that direction. “And in addition to Jonah McAllister, looks like Mab brought two more bodyguards along with her.”

Sure enough, two giants stepped onto the riverboat behind Mab and Jonah. The rear guard, as it were.

“No wonder poor Roslyn looks faint,” Finn murmured. “Besides Slater, who knows how long she’s had to listen to Jonah McAllister this evening? His arrogance would be enough to drive anyone mad. And Mab isn’t exactly a shrinking violet herself.”

We sat at the bar and watched the four of them. Elliot Slater led Roslyn Phillips out onto the deck, stopping every few feet to shake hands with someone he knew. The giant wore a black tuxedo that made his seven-foot physique seem even larger and more intimidating than usual. Tree trunks would look small in comparison to him.

So far, Roslyn seemed to be playing the role of the devoted date this evening. The first part of which was to look smashing. The vampire had donned a floor-length scarlet evening gown dotted here and there with matching sequins. Somehow, the slinky, tight-fitting gown managed to be tasteful and still show off Roslyn’s perfect figure.

More than a few eyes turned in the vampire’s direction, but a quick glower from Slater was enough to end the appreciative gazes. The giant’s hazel eyes also followed the interlopers, as though he was committing their names and faces to memory so he could beat the stuffing out of them later. He crooked a finger at one of the two giants hovering near him and whispered something in the other man’s ear. The giant nodded and moved off into the crowd. A few seconds later, one of the men who’d been staring at Roslyn was discreetly escorted off the riverboat. If I had to guess, I’d say he was going to get the same kind of treatment that I’d received the other night on the community college quad.

Elliot Slater stayed close to Roslyn the entire time, only letting her out of arm’s reach long enough to grab them both a glass of champagne. Once he was done holding court, Elliot pulled Roslyn over to one of the blackjack tables, where they both sat down. The giant picked up Roslyn’s hand and cooed sweet nothings into her ear whenever he wasn’t busy betting or looking at his cards.

Despite her makeup, the vamp’s face looked pale and sweaty underneath the strings of lights. I had the sense Roslyn was very close to bolting. And though I couldn’t blame her for it if she did, it would only make things worse in the end.