Scarlet Assassin (7 page)

The ladies room door opened and a set of distinct footsteps echoed through the room. Peeking through the crack between the door and wall, she recognized Selene washing her hands. Francesca jumped when Selene looked directly at her through the barrier. Thankfully, she turned back to the sink and ignored Francesca. She waited a minute longer and realized she couldn’t sit in the stall forever. Eventually a break would send women flooding into the bathroom, so she reluctantly stood, flushed the toilet and came face-to-face with
walking sex
.

“Hi, Francesca, right?”

“Hi,” Francesca said, a bit embarrassed, caught in the bathroom just sitting.

Selene dabbed at a red spot on her blouse and then looked at Francesca again.

“You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just needed a break from the group and since I don’t smoke.” She slapped her chest. “Asthma. I didn’t want to hangout in the smoking area. It’s nice in here though.”

Now she felt silly. It was a restroom, not a lounge found in some ritzy club or hotel.

Selene turned around and gave the room a once over. “Well, I guess I don’t need to do that remodel I was considering.” She laughed and resumed dabbing at the stain.

“Here, let me help you. Is that club soda” Francesca pointed to the bottle on the counter.

“Yeah, Jax said it would get this wine stain out.”

“Kinda messy are ya?”

“Actually, your friend did this.”

“Oh, sorry. She can be a little wild when she’s had too much to drink.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” Francesca knew there would be a story behind this stain. There always was when it came to Dorothy. Without thinking, Francesca reached her hand under Selene’s blouse cupping the stain.

“Hand me that bottle.” she said nodding at it.

“I can do this,” Selene seemed uncomfortable.

Francesca’s finger brushed against the pale skin that was in direction contrast with Selene’s dark eyes, and straight, shiny hair, so black the tinted highlights glinted blue in the light. She fumbled with the club soda, and the spill soaked through Selene’s blouse, revealing the outline of a dark nipple through the now sheer material that lay on Selene’s bare breast.

Selene sucked in a deep breath. “Oh that’s cold.”

“Oh sorry, sorry.” Francesca grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the wet spot over the erect nipple.

Selene stopped her. “Here, I’ll get that.”

“Of course, sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are you okay?”

A hand on her arm pulled Francesca from her daydream and back to the present.

“I’m sorry?” Francesca blushed at the touch from the club owner.

“I said, are you okay?” Selene removed her hand. “Would you like me to call one of your friends over? Do you need to sit down?”

“Huh? No, no I’m fine. I was just lost in thought I guess. I’m sorry for what happened back at the table. Dorothy has boundary issues, and the other ladies…well I guess doing research for a living doesn’t make for great social skills.”

“I noticed, but you seem to be able to handle yourself.” Selene smiled.

A jolt speared right through Francesca in response; a twinge of guilt she was sure.

“Oh, well…I’m…I mean…I get out…uh, I don’t get out…out, but I do seem to be able to keep myself from looking like an ass, luckily.” She looked down at her shoes. Now she was a blubbering idiot, but at least she wasn’t still staring at the club owner’s chest anymore. It wasn’t her fault, they were eye level…besides…oh it didn’t matter. She was way out of Francesca’s league. Tall, dark and gorgeous never went for pale, short and shapely.

“Well, I have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you…” Selene offered her hand.

“Oh right, sorry. Francesca. Remember, I told you out there?” Now she was sure the woman was out of her league, not a second thought.

“I thought you said people called you Francesca?”

“They do, I mean some people do, mostly the people I work with do, but…”
shut up
. “Francesca’s fine.”

With that, she turned on her heel and dashed from the restroom leaving Selene behind shaking her head.

Chapter Eight

The folded parchment sat dead center of her desk. The red wax seal, denoted it was from someone in the coven or at least someone affiliated with the coven. Selene sat down in her leather chair, steepled her fingers and ran her lips back and forth over the tips.

Studying the paper, she knew that whoever wrote the letter was making a request. She wondered if the person writing knew the price they would have to pay for her services? More often than not, money wasn’t the issue. The issue was usually the
who
.

Picking up the letter she studied the seal. Typical shield with a hand thrusting a sword upwards, denoted a Scottish clan. She hadn’t heard from the Scots in decades. There were few in their ranks, but those few in the coven considered themselves a long line of warriors and handled their own
family
business.

Breaking the wax seal in half, the rush of cologne and sweat pulled at her nostrils as she unfolded the parchment.
Damn men
, she thought,
can’t they do anything in moderation
?

Selene,

It’s a sad day when I am in need of your services. Unfortunately, I am desperate. I await your terms and conditions for employment.

Respectfully,

Ian.

Selene tapped the envelope against the desk. What could Ian want from her? He’d been silent for so long she thought him dead and gone. Though an announcement usually followed the death of her kind, even if it weaved its way through the grapevine. But, money was money and what did she care who employed her as long as they paid?

She picked up her phone and dialed the number on the letterhead.

“Hello.” The soft voice on the other end sounded young.

“May I speak to Ian, please?”

“A moment, please.”

Selene thought she could hear blankets rustling in the background and a muffed squeal. Ian was a dog to the n’th degree, so it wasn’t a surprise if he was bedding a new conquest.

“Ian, here.” Wisps of his Irish brogue still laced his words. It took work to keep an accent alive this long and Selene wondered if he kept it for the ladies.

“Ian, Selene.”

Silence and more blankets rustling before Ian said anything else. “Selene. You got my request.”

“I got a note requesting my services. What can I do for you, Ian?”

“I’d like to meet in person, Selene. This is a delicate matter.”

Selene didn’t usually meet with her clients. The nature of her business made her a target for those that might want to kill
her
.

“I don’t meet with my clients, Ian. You know that. Besides, I’m assuming you remember the routine. Half up front, the rest upon completion.”

Selene kept the detail vague when she spoke on the phone. She never knew who might be listening and she didn’t need more problems than she already had. She’d refused more jobs than she’d taken lately. Death was a dirty business—literally and figuratively. Moving away from it and into more lucrative enterprises helped line her pockets now. Besides, she liked the way she slept at night. The constant need to look over her shoulder kept her from becoming involved with anyone, fearful they would become a target just because they’d been seen with her.

“I know, but I thought you might make an exception this once.”

“No.”

More silence. She was starting to get a feeling it might be best to let this job go to someone else. Her gut was often right, but she would let Ian confirm that for her.

“Okay, I understand. Look, I’ve got a problem that needs a resolution. The coven won’t handle the interloper so I need to handle it.”

More silence.

“You still there?” He sounded like he was cupping the phone for privacy.

“Yep.”

“Selene, I’m in a bad way here. I need someone to disappear as soon as possible. The bastard’s giving me fits and Van der Plume won’t budge an inch.”

“Details, Ian.”

“I’ve got this
chancer
, De Marcus…” Selene’s ears perked up. “trying to put the pinch on me. Says I owe him.”

Selene knew she would take this job. Her gut said no, but she wanted De Marcus’ head on a platter. Especially if it meant getting AJ off her back. Selene figured that the word was out that she was after De Marcus. What she didn’t know was how deep the word went. Hell, you’d have to be living under a rock not to know she was after the bastard.

“I need to ask you some questions before I decide whether or not to take the job.”

“Aw, come on, Selene. I’m feelin’ the screw here. I need someone to handle to this tool, before he tries anything else.”

“Look, answer my questions truthfully and this will go faster. Bulldog me and I’ll hang up.”

“Right, right. Let me put some clothes on.”

“Why, I can’t see you?”

“Well aren’t you a lucky girl? You just might swoon if you saw my—”

“Stop. I’m not interested in your manhood or lack of it.”

“Aw stop, Selene. You know I’m bigger than an ox.”

“Could we get to the questions, if you don’t mind, of course. This
is
my dime.”

“Oh, right. Well, get on with it girl. I’m as decent as I’m going to get in this lifetime.”

Selene wanted to punch the arrogant bastard, but that would have to wait until they were face to face. “Where are you?”

“In me
gaff
.”

“No shit, you
gowl
.” Selene knew enough Irish to be offensive, which always seemed to be foreplay for some guys. Ian could have easily said he was at home, but slipping back into his Irish meant he’d been drinking.

“Aww, you’re a
feek
after me own heart. Careful, Selene, I’ll win you over yet.”

“Doubtful, Ian, now let’s get on with it. Where are you?”

“I’m in the Low valley.”

Low valley was vampire slang for a place at a higher altitude where it was damn near impossible for an average human to find. The lighter atmosphere made breathing difficult and a house situated between mountain peaks often led to darker days no matter the time of year.

“What low valley, Ian?”

“I’m over in Donner.”

The irony wasn’t lost on Selene. Donner was in the Sierra foothills on the way to Tahoe, named after the people who reportedly saved themselves by eating their fellow travelers.
Disgusting
.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Are you trying to be a smart-ass?”

“You’d be amazed how many people, especially ours, who avoid the place like the plague. They think it’s running with ghosts and beasties. So it keeps me safe and the girls love that they can scream their heads off when I fuck ‘em. Besides, it’s cold and high enough that I don’t have neighbors.”

“But it’s so damn cold.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great.”

Selene preferred the warmth of the coast, the fog giving just enough protection to those who didn’t want all that sunshine. She’d lived all over the world and avoided destinations that took her anywhere close to the equator. Central American was out, so was the African continent.
Besides
, she thought,
all that sand was just too…
It didn’t matter, she’d made her choice, and unless something came up to change that, she was content where she was, for now.

“Selene?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, I guess I’ll come to you then.”

“The Dungeon. It’ll take you what, four maybe five hours?”

“If I fly.” Ian’s implication was clear. “I’ve got a damn appointment I can’t get out of Selene. Besides, can you give me a couple of days to get the funds? I don’t have green on me.”

“How many days, Ian?”

“I need to go down into the city for my appointment and then I need to get the check. So a couple is all I’ll need?”

“Do whatever. If you’re not here by…” Selene pulled her sleeve back and continued, “six on Thursday, don’t bother.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Since you’re going to the bank bring cash, no checks, or international drafts.” Selene didn’t need the money, but if someone paid, they rarely backed out and she hated when someone got cold feet.

“The usual?”

“It’s gonna cost you more since it’s De Marcus.”

“But—”

“No, but. If you want this bastard dead, you need to pay. I have a full dance card and you’re asking me to add you.”

“Fine, what’ll it be?”

Negotiating was one of Selene’s pet peeves. She waited for Ian to quote a price and then with a fudge factor of five they finally agreed to an amount Selene knew was absurdly gross. Ian could afford it. The fact that he didn’t flinch when she countered made her wish she had bounced higher.

Hanging up she suddenly needed a stiff drink and a diversion. One she could easily get, the other would have to wait until a more opportune time presented her with a willing participant.

Chapter Nine

Francesca sat on her sofa with her feet tucked underneath her. Her mind and body felt like it had run a marathon tonight. Between the loud music, the alcohol and the exchanges that had played out on stage she
still
couldn’t wrap her mind around what she’d seen earlier. The logical part of her brain could rationalize the need for some people to experience pain. She guessed it was a need to release control, but to surrender total control to someone else involved a massive amount of trust and Francesca just wasn’t that trusting. Then to top it all off there was the bombshell club owner, Selene.
Sex on a stick.
Wow, what she would give to see some of that a little more up close and personal. She had to wonder if Selene was into the kinky stuff, she did own the club, right? Therefore, that must mean she was some type of deviant, too. What else could it mean?