Chapter Eighteen
Owen and I walked down the gangplank. After the heated crush of people on board the riverboat, the night air felt cold and empty. Or perhaps that was just my heart after seeing Roslyn Phillips's raw, naked pain. Only one thing was for sure-Elliot Slater was going to die. The giant would never put his hands on Roslyn-or anyone else-ever again. I'd make certain of that.
I might have moonlighted as an assassin for years, but despite popular misconceptions, I'd never taken any great pleasure in killing people. To me, it had been a job, just like any other. Something I'd been good at, no matter how twisted and wrong and evil it might have been. But this time, this time, I was going to enjoy gutting Elliot Slater. Going to enjoy ripping into him, carving his heart out of his chest, and making him watch while I squished the black, bloody organ between my fingers. Maybe I'd even take a few pictures for Roslyn. The vamp could use them on her Christmas cards this year. Happy holidays.
Owen and I stepped off the gangplank and onto the riverside boardwalk.
"My car's this way," Owen said, heading toward the parking lot where Finn had left his Aston Martin.
I walked by his side, scanning the shadows. The iron street lamps did little to drive back the darkness, and the parking lots stretched out before us like the thick gray slabs you might find on top of graveyard tombs. A few other couples had decided to leave the riverboat soiree early as well, and they waited in small clusters for the tuxedo-clad valets to retrieve their vehicles or for their limos to pull up near the gangplank entrance.
I looked for Xavier, but I didn't see him lurking around anywhere. The giant should have been long gone if he'd followed my instructions. I did, however, spot Roslyn. The vampire had stopped running and stood about a hundred feet ahead of us on the boardwalk. Beyond her, in the parking lot, I saw the headlights flicker on Finn's Aston Martin, signaling her. Roslyn hugged her arms to her chest and walked toward the silver sports car, weaving her way around the other vehicles in the lot.
A scuffle sounded, and loud footsteps clacked on the boardwalk behind us in a rapid rush. Someone was running toward us. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was. Her ice-blue dress whipped around her legs, and the silverstone primrose rune bounced up and down against her throat with every stride she took. My sister just didn't know when to leave well enough alone.
Owen heard the footsteps too. He turned, saw Bria running toward us, and pulled me to one side, out of her way. Bria sprinted past us. Up ahead, Roslyn reached Finn's car, opened the door, and got inside. A moment later, Finn steered the vehicle out the far side of the lot, away from the pursuing Bria.
Baby sister realized that the vampire had gotten away from her. She slowed to a stop and smacked her hand against the closest street lamp. "Fuck!"
She turned around and saw Owen and me standing on the boardwalk staring at her. Bria reversed direction and hurried our way, her heels spiking into the wood one step at a time. Bria reached into the small purse whose strap she'd looped over her shoulder and pulled out her badge. The gold gleamed like an old coin in the lamplight.
"Detective Bria Coolidge," she announced. "Did the woman in the red dress speak to you? Did she say where she was going?"
I tightened my hand on Owen's arm in a warning. He looked at me and nodded. He was going to go along with whatever I said. Smart man. He might just live through the evening.
I looked at Bria. "She didn't say anything to us. I have no idea where she went."
Bria must have recognized my voice because she frowned and peered closer at me. She studied my face for several seconds, before her gaze flicked down my dress, then slid over to Owen Grayson. I could almost see the wheels spinning in her mind as she tried to figure out what I'd been doing on board the riverboat.
"Ms. Blanco," Bria said. "This is the second time we've run into each other today."
"Detective Coolidge," I replied. "You look lovely. That color really brings out your baby blues."
Bria's mouth tightened, as she tried to decide whether or not I was being sincere. "Who's your friend?" she asked.
Owen stepped forward and extended his hand. "Owen Grayson. Gin's date for the evening. It's a pleasure, detective."
If Owen wanted to keep up the charade of pretending to be my date, fine with me. It gave me a plausible reason to be here in the mix tonight.
Bria shook his hand, then turned her attention back to me. "You don't know where Roslyn Phillips went? I find that hard to believe, Ms. Blanco. Especially since she was at your restaurant earlier today. The two of you seemed quite cozy then."
I shrugged. "Lots of people eat at my restaurant, detective. The food happens to be excellent. You should come try it for yourself sometime. I'll fix you a barbecue sandwich so good, it will make you slap your mama."
I said the words without thinking, in the joking sort of way I had to so many other people over the years whenever I was boasting about the Pork Pit. But I knew I'd made a mistake the second they were out, because Bria's face went cold and blank. Of course it would. Mine would have too.
"My mother's dead."
Those three simple words each felt like a silverstone knife ripping into my heart. My eyes dropped to the delicate primrose rune around Bria's neck, then the rings on her finger, and my stomach tightened. Damn. Sometimes I really could be a cold-hearted, insensitive bitch.
Bria shook her head, as if chasing away a bad memory. I knew the feeling.
"You have no idea where Ms. Phillips went?" she repeated her earlier question.
"None," I replied. "If it makes you feel better, detective, I was just as shocked as you were to hear what she said about Elliot Slater."
"As was I," Owen cut in. "As was I."
I looked at Owen, but his face was just as closed off as Bria's was.
Bria stared at me again, and I returned her gaze with a cool one of my own. She must have realized she wasn't getting anything out of me tonight, because she gave me a curt nod.
"Fine," she said. "I'll track Ms. Phillips down myself. You have my card, Ms. Blanco. If you see Ms. Phillips, please tell her that I'd like to speak to her regarding what she said about Elliot Slater. That I'd like to help her press charges against the bastard, and that I'll protect her no matter what."
Bria's eyes burned with cold, blue fire. The cop in her meant every word she'd just said. She'd protect Roslyn from Slater, even if it resulted in her own ostracization from the police department-or even her death. Finn had been right when he'd pegged my sister as a crusader. I admired the fact that she wanted to help Roslyn, even if I knew nothing would ever come of any charges filed against Slater. Besides, the giant wasn't going to live long enough for all that. Not if I had my way about things.