“Too late,” I said. “You should really speak up when you have an opinion.”
Eleanor stuck her fingers into the side of my neck. Ice picks chilled all the way down my spine. “Jesus, woman. A little humor would be nice.”
I rubbed at my neck and stepped back into the pub.
As soon as I was in the main room, I was once again reminded that when I am around Terric, the need to devour and consume life is lessened. Yin/yang, Soul Complements, life/death, and all that. We canceled each other out some when we were in the same general proximity.
Now that he was gone, a tight ball of rage knotted like a fist in the middle of my chest. Death magic was hungry.
Maybe it was time to settle the bill and get the hell away from this place. Away from all these lovely living people.
While we’d been talking, day had stumbled into night. The pub was filled to the walls. I made my way between people standing and yelling to be heard over the noise of the place, and paused by the table.
A woman was lounging in Terric’s seat, arm over the back of the chair, ankle resting on her knee. Knockout pretty. Blue eyes like clear mountain skies, and a soft, full mouth. Her hair spilled down to her shoulders in waves, framing the porcelain white of her skin. Slender build in a tight T-shirt and jeans. My heart, which had been missing for years, kicked over and began beating for the first time.
It wasn’t a come-hither gaze she was holding me with—just an even stare with a glimmer of mischief—but it might as well have been.
I didn’t know her, but I recognized her. Last time I’d seen her, she had a sniper’s rifle in her hands.
“Buy you a drink?” she asked.
I could say no, but there was fresh shot of whiskey already next to my three empty shot glasses. She had a drink too, an Old-Fashioned. All the money Terric had left behind was right where he’d tossed it.
Eleanor was shaking her head and doing some kind of football signal for missed goal.
But there was something about this woman that made me want to say yes for a change. I tugged the chair away from the table and sat.
“So. Is this your first time in Portland?” I asked.
She smiled a bit. “Why? Does it show?”
“Not at all. Visiting friends? Enemies?”
“I’m still undecided on that. My name’s Dessa.”
“I’m Shamus.”
“I know.”
I grinned. “Wondered if we were going to dance around that or not. Are you going to tell me why you want me dead?”
She caught her breath. Then leaned forward just a bit. “Did I say I wanted you dead, Mr. Flynn?”
“No. But that rifle on the rooftop? Kind of a giveaway.”
She took a drink to cover her surprise. Huh. So she didn’t think I’d spotted her. I guess I had the slacker/loser/oblivious-of-the-world act down pretty tight.
“You’re still breathing, though, aren’t you?”
“Apparently,” I said. “Why is that, exactly?”
“I don’t want you dead yet.”
“Comforting. What do you want?”
“A little time.”
A young couple were making their way through the crowd toward the door. The woman was carrying a baby. Just before she got to our table, she sidestepped a man taking off his coat, and a little stuffed toy tumbled to the floor.
Dessa glanced over, spotted the lost toy, saw the woman and baby moving on. She glanced at me, then at the woman’s retreating back.
These kinds of situations were always telling. A woman on the prowl would ignore the whole thing. A woman on a job to get information would ignore it too.
And Dessa . . .
“Hold on.” She stepped out and picked up the toy—a purple turtle—then caught up with the couple and handed it to the thankful mother. She even took a minute to smile at the baby before noticing I was watching her, and walking back my way.
Looked like my assassin had a heart.
“Do you always rescue things in need?” I asked as she sat back down.
She shrugged. “Only when I find them lost and alone in bars.”
Touché.
“So you wanted time,” I said.
“Yes. I want to make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You help me, I help you.”
“Go on.”
“I’m looking for a man. A magic user. I want you to help me find him. And kill him.”
Matter-of-fact. Clear. To the point. But her tone had gone too careful. Too even. Hiding her heartbeat, the race of adrenaline. She didn’t just want the man dead, she wanted revenge.
“What did he do to you?”
“He killed my brother.”
I let that settle between us. “I’m not an assassin,” I said.
“You could be.”
“I could be a lot of things. Have you tried the right side of the law?”
“Do you think there is a right side?” She paused for a minute, stirring the ice in her drink.
I just wanted to watch her eyes, her mouth, the way she pushed her hair back so the side of her neck was bare. Thoughts I hadn’t had in a long time stretched out in me.
“I’ve been . . . involved in that side of the law,” she said. “I’ve even worked for that side of the law. And I know my brother’s killer won’t ever be put in jail.”
“Why?”
“He has protection. Government protection.”
“What are they protecting him from? You?”
She smiled again, and I glanced away so I wouldn’t be caught by the warmth of it. “No.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m flattered. But there just isn’t anything in this for me. I’m not seeing why I should get involved.”
“I’ll help you with your problem.” She took another drink and waited.
“And what, exactly,” I said, leaning forward so that our hands nearly brushed, “do you think my problem is?”
She swallowed and had to look away before she could hold my gaze again. “I have information about the government and Soul Complements. Names of the people involved. Information that can keep you alive.”
“You assume I want to stay alive. Maybe you’ve got me wrong.”
The corner of her mouth pulled up and she tipped her head so that a curl of hair slid gently across her cheek and neck. Red against white, like blood on snow.
I clenched my fingers so I didn’t reach up and draw her hair back into place.
“If death is what you want,” she said, “I can give you that too. It will be fast. It will be clean, and it will be glorious.”
She had my full, unbroken attention.
She was not kidding. Her iceberg blue eyes were as steady as if she were looking at me through a sniper’s scope, finger on the trigger. No emotion. Just the sweet promise of death.
Would it be wrong of me to think that at that moment, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen?
Here’s the thing. I knew what my future would be. No matter how I cut it, death, my death, was always the card on top. I’d always figured Zayvion would be the one to pull the trigger. But I hated what it would do to him and Allie. They’d carry the guilt of my death for the rest of their life. Because they are like that.
But here, now, this woman—this gorgeous and, yes, kind woman—was a solution I hadn’t considered. I could make a deal with her, and she could make my death look like an accident. No one would carry the guilt. Not Zay, not Allie, not Terric, not my mum. No one would have to know the truth.
“Glorious, eh?” I asked.
“Unforgettable.”
“How about accidental?”
“It can be arranged.”
“So you’re offering my life—or my death—if I help you find a guy and kill him.”
“That’s the deal.”
Tempting. Dangerously so.
I leaned back, lacing my fingers together just behind the shot she’d bought me that I still hadn’t touched.
“Why can’t you kill him? I’ll buy that you might need help finding someone. It’s less likely you think I’m the one who can track him down—plenty of better trackers in this town. But what I’m really having a hard time believing is that you need help killing. Anyone.”