Thread of Death (11 page)

“Took you long enough,” Finn said. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost back there.”

“Not exactly. I had another pair of unexpected visitors I had to entertain.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Injured or dead?”

“Merely injured. What can I say? I was in a charitable mood tonight.”

Finn arched his eyebrow a little higher at my sarcasm. Charity was one thing that assassins, even semiretired assassins like me, couldn’t afford
to have too much of. Especially not these days, when every wannabe hood in Ashland wanted a piece of me.

It took me the better part of a minute and two tomatoes to work up to my next words. Finn might be right, but I hated to let him know it. He tended to gloat about things like that.

“You know that vacation you were talking about?”

“Yes?” Finn asked, a sly, satisfied note creeping into his smooth voice.

I sighed, knowing that I was beaten. “When do we leave?”

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