Unraveled Read online

  “Engrossing!” —Publishers Weekly

  “Gritty!” —RT Book Reviews

  Praise for the Goodreads-nominated and Romantic Times award-winning Elemental Assassin series

  BITTER BITE

  “Estep’s street-smart characters, lively narrative, and ever-­evolving stories keep this series alive and kicking.”

  —Library Journal

  “The fourteenth title in the Elemental Assassin series is a fast, furious, and entertaining romp.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  SPIDER’S TRAP

  “The continued evolution of not only Gin but all the rest of the core characters as well is what keeps this series fresh and immensely entertaining. These relationships give such rich depth and emotional heft to the otherwise nonstop action.”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “Nonstop action, great characters, humor, and even some moments where your heart is in your throat.”

  —Dark Faerie Tales

  BLACK WIDOW

  “Everything that I adore about this series is right here and more so in Black Widow. There’s expertly crafted fights, banter, and suspense that continued to keep me on the edge of my seat. I can’t recommend this book enough and love being on the roller-coaster ride that is Gin Blanco’s life.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  “Black Widow is crazy good and Gin Blanco is still one of the best-written heroines in urban fantasy. I was riveted from beginning to end.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  POISON PROMISE

  “A knockout. . . . Lots of vividly depicted battles, a high body-count, and high-octane escapes worthy of a James Bond movie keep the pages turning.”

  —Booklist

  “A quick-moving plot and characters that jump off the page. . . . Estep finely balances a confident, tough-edged personality with an inner life filled with doubts and emotions, making Gin a surprisingly down-to-earth heroine whom readers will root for.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  THE SPIDER

  “By virtue of her enormous skill, Estep keeps this amazing series fresh and unputdownable!”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “Made me fall in love with Gin all over again.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  HEART OF VENOM

  “Amazing . . . Estep is one of those rare authors who excels at both action set pieces and layered character development.”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “Action-packed with tons of character growth. . . . One of the best books in the series, which says a lot because Estep’s writing rarely, if ever, disappoints.”

  —Fall Into Books

  DEADLY STING

  “Classic Estep with breathtaking thrills, coolly executed fights, and a punch of humor, which all add up to unbeatable entertainment!”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “I’ve been hooked on this series from the first word of the first book. I can’t get enough.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  WIDOW’S WEB

  “Estep has found the perfect recipe for combining kick-butt action and high-stakes danger with emotional resonance.”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “Filled with such emotional and physical intensity that it leaves you happily exhausted by the end.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  SPIDER’S REVENGE

  “Explosive. . . . Hang on, this is one smackdown you won’t want to miss!”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “A whirlwind of tension, intrigue, and mind-blowing action that leaves your heart pounding.”

  —Smexy Books

  VENOM

  “Estep has really hit her stride with this gritty and compelling series. . . . Brisk pacing and knife-edged danger make this an exciting page-turner.”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!)

  “Gin is a compelling and complicated character whose story is only made better by the lovable band of merry misfits she calls her family.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  SPIDER’S BITE

  “The series [has] plenty of bite. . . . Kudos to Estep for the knife-edged suspense!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Fast pace, clever dialogue, and an intriguing heroine.”

  —Library Journal

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  To my mom, my grandma, and Andre—for your love, patience, and everything else that you’ve given me over the years

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, my heartfelt thanks go out to all the folks who help turn my words into a book.

  Thanks go to my agent, Annelise Robey, and my editor, Adam Wilson, for all their helpful advice, support, and encouragement. Thanks also to Melissa Bendixen.

  Thanks to Tony Mauro for designing another terrific cover, and thanks to Louise Burke, Lisa Litwack, and everyone else at Pocket and Simon & Schuster for their work on the cover, the book, and the series.

  And finally, a big thanks to all the readers. Knowing that folks read and enjoy my books is truly humbling, and I’m glad that you are all enjoying Gin and her adventures.

  I appreciate you all more than you will ever know.

  Happy reading!

  1

  It was the perfect night to kill someone.

  Thick, heavy clouds obscured the moon and stars, deepening the shadows of the cold December evening, and an icy drizzle spattered down from the sky, slowly covering everything in a slick, glossy, treacherous sheen. Icicles had already formed on many of the trees that lined the street, looking like gnarled, glittering fingers that were crawling all over the bare, skeletal branches. No animals moved or stirred, not so much as an owl sailing into one of the treetops searching for shelter.

  Down the block, red, green, and white holiday lights flashed on the doors and windows of one of the sprawling mansions set back from the street, and the faint trill of Christmas carols filled the air. A steady stream of people hurried from the mistletoe-festooned front door, down the snowmen-lined driveway, and out to their cars, scrambling into the vehicles and cranking the engines. Someone’s dinner party was rapidly winding down, although it was only nine o’clock. Everyone wanted to get home and be all safe, warm, and snug in their own beds, dreaming of sugarplums, before the weather got any worse. In ten minutes, they’d all be gone, and the street would be quiet and deserted again.

  Yes, it was the perfect night to kill someone.

  Too bad my mission was recon only.

  I slouched down in my seat, staying as much out of view of the passing headlights as possible. But none of the drivers gave my battered old white van a second look, and I doubted that any of them even bothered to glance at the blue lettering on the side that read Cloudburst Falls Catering. Caterers, florists, musicians. Such service vehicles were all too common in Northtown, the part of Ashland where the rich, social, and magical elite lived. If not for the lousy weather, this entire street probably would have been lit up with holiday cheer as people hosted various parties, each one trying to outdo their neighbors with garish light displays.

  Once the last of the cars cruised by and the final pair of headlights faded away, I straightened up in my seat, pi
cked up my binoculars from my lap, and peered through them at another nearby mansion.

  A stone wall cordoned this mansion off from the street, featuring a wide iron gate that was closed and locked. Unlike its neighbor, no holiday lights decorated this house, and only a single room on the front was illuminated—an office with glass doors that led out to a stone patio. Thin white curtains covered the doors, and every few seconds, the murky shape of a man would appear, moving back and forth, as though he were continuously pacing from one side of his office to the other.

  I just bet he was pacing. From all the reports I’d heard, he’d been holed up in his mansion for months now, preparing for his murder trial, which was set to begin after the first of the year. That would be enough to drive anyone stir-crazy.

  Beside me, a soft creak rang out, followed by a long, loud sigh. Two sounds that I’d heard over and over in the last hour I’d been parked here.

  The man in the mansion wasn’t the only one going nuts.

  “Tell me again. How did I get stuck hanging out with you tonight?” a low voice muttered.

  I lowered my binoculars and looked over at Phillip Kincaid, who had his arms crossed over his muscled chest and a mulish expression on his handsome face. A long black trench coat covered his body, while a black toboggan was pulled down low on his forehead, hiding his golden hair from sight, except for the low ponytail that stuck out the back. I was dressed in all black as well, from my boots to my jeans to my turtleneck, silverstone vest, and fleece jacket. A black toboggan also topped my head, although I’d stuffed all my dark brown hair up underneath the knit hat.

  “What’s wrong, Philly?” I said. “Don’t like being my babysitter tonight?”

  He shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. “You’re Gin Blanco, the famed assassin turned underworld queen. You don’t need babysitting.” He shifted in his seat, making it creak again, and shook his head. “But Owen insisted on it. . . . The things I do for that man.”

  Phillip was right. As the Spider, I could handle myself in just about any situation. I certainly didn’t need him here, but Owen Grayson, Phillip’s best friend and my significant other, had wanted it this way. But I hadn’t protested too much when Phillip had shown up at the Pork Pit and told me that he wanted to tag along tonight.

  With the mysterious members of the Circle out there, a little backup might come in handy. Even if said backup was whinier than one would hope.

  “Why couldn’t Lane sit out here with you?” Phillip asked. “Or Jo-Jo or even Sophia for that matter? Why did I get elected to freeze my balls off tonight?”

  Finnegan Lane, my foster brother, was often my partner in crime in all things Spider-related, while Jo-Jo and Sophia Deveraux respectively healed me and cleaned up the blood and bodies I left in my wake.

  “Because Finn is still dealing with the mess that Deirdre Shaw left behind at First Trust bank, and Jo-Jo and Sophia had tickets to The Nutcracker,” I said, ticking our friends off on my fingers. “And of course, you know that Owen promised Eva that he’d help out with that holiday toy drive she’s leading over at the community college.”

  “I would have been happy to help Eva with her toy drive,” Phillip grumbled. “Thrilled. Ecstatic even.”

  Despite their roughly ten-year age difference, Phillip was crazy about Eva Grayson, Owen’s younger sister, although he was waiting for her to finish college and grow up a bit before pursuing a real relationship with her.

  “Anything would have been better—warmer—than this.” He popped up the collar of his trench coat so that it would cover more of his neck, then slouched down even farther in his seat.

  “Aw, poor baby. Stuck out here in the cold and dark with me tonight.” I clucked my tongue in mock sympathy. “And to think that I was just about to offer you some hot chocolate.”

  His blue eyes narrowed with interest. “You have hot chocolate? Homemade hot chocolate?”

  I reached down and pulled a large metal thermos out of the black duffel bag sitting between our seats on the van floor. “Of course I do. You can’t have a stakeout on a cold winter’s night without it.”

  I grabbed two plastic cups out of the bag and handed them over to Phillip, who held them steady while I poured. The rich, heady aroma of the decadent drink filled the van, cutting through the icy chill that had crept inside the vehicle. I breathed in the fumes as I capped the thermos and put it away. Phillip passed over my cup, and I drew in a couple more deep, steamy breaths before taking a sip. The dark brew coated my tongue with its bittersweet flavor, softened by the vanilla extract and raspberry puree that I’d added to the mixture.

  Phillip cradled his cup like a bum huddled over a trash-can fire. He took a long slurp and sighed again, this time with happiness. “Now that’s more like it.”

  We both settled back in our seats, watching the mansion and sipping our hot chocolate.

  The folks who’d been hosting the dinner party must have decided to go to bed, since the recorded carols abruptly cut off, and the holiday lights winked out one door, window, and plastic snowman at a time, further blackening the landscape. The icy drizzle picked up as well, turning into more of a steady rain, each drop tinking against the van windshield. It truly was a night fit for neither man nor beast, but these were my favorite kinds of environments as an assassin. The cold, the rain, and the darkness always made it that much easier to get close to your target and then get away after you’d put him down. If I’d wanted someone dead, I would have waited for a night just like this one to strike.

  And I was willing to bet that someone might have the same idea about the man in the mansion.

  Phillip tipped his cup at the shadow still pacing back and forth behind the patio doors. “You really think that he knows something about the Circle?”

  I shrugged. “He’s the best lead I have right now—and the only person still alive who might know anything about them.”

  Two weeks ago, I’d been kidnapped and held hostage by Hugh Tucker, a vampire who claimed that he was part of a secret group that supposedly pulled the strings on the underworld and everything else in Ashland. That had certainly come as news to me, since I was supposedly the head of the underworld these days. But Tucker had claimed that the Circle was an organization of criminals so high-and-mighty that no one could touch them, especially not a lowly assassin like me. The vamp had also said that the Circle monitored everything from behind the scenes—and that they could kill me and my friends anytime they wanted to.

  But the most shocking thing he’d revealed was that my mother, Eira Snow, had supposedly been one of them.

  My mother had been murdered when I was thirteen, a deep loss that I still felt to this day. But I’d viewed her like any other kid. She was my mom—nothing more, nothing less. I’d never really thought about who she was, much less what kind of person. The good things she did, the bad ones, how she felt about all of them. I didn’t know any of that. But Tucker had turned my world upside down with his accusations, and I wanted to know if they were true: I had to know if my mother had been the good person I’d always assumed she was, or just as rotten, heartless, and depraved as the rest of this shadowy Circle.

  “You know, we could just go knock on his door and ask him about all this,” Phillip said.

  I snorted. “He wouldn’t tell me anything. Nothing I could trust anyway. He hates me too much for that.”

  Phillip shifted in his seat again. “Well, at least we could get this over with and go home. That would certainly keep my balls from turning into ice cubes—”

  A pair of headlights popped up in the van’s rearview mirror. I gestured at Phillip, and we both slouched back down in our seats.

  A black SUV cruised down the street, passing our van. The vehicle stopped at the end of the block and made a right, disappearing from sight. Phillip started to sit back up, but I held out my hand, stopping him.

  “Wait,” I said. “
Let’s see if they come back.”

  He rolled his eyes, but he stayed still. “Why would they come back? It’s probably just somebody who lives in the neighborhood—”

  Headlights popped up in the van’s rearview mirror again, and that same SUV cruised by our position. This time the vehicle turned left at the end of the block.

  “Maybe they’re lost,” he said. “All these cookie-cutter Northtown streets and mansions look alike, especially in the dark.”

  I shook my head. “They’re not lost. They’re seeing how quiet and deserted the area is for whatever they have in mind. They’ll be back. You’ll see.”

  We sat in the van, watching our mirrors. Sure enough, a minute later, that same SUV cruised by us again. Only this time, the vehicle didn’t have its headlights on, or even its parking lights. It whipped a U-turn in the middle of the street, pulled over to the curb, and stopped—right in front of the mansion we were watching.

  “Hello,” I murmured. “What do we have here?”

  The doors opened, and two people got out of the front of the SUV, both wearing long black trench coats akin to Phillip’s. They were giants, each one roughly seven feet tall with thick shoulders and broad chests; most likely they were the muscle and bodyguards for whoever was in the back of the vehicle.

  Sure enough, one of the giants opened a rear door, and a shorter, thinner figure emerged, also sporting a black trench coat, along with a black fedora and a matching scarf wrapped around their neck. I peered through my binoculars, but the person’s back was to me, so I couldn’t see their face, although from the size and gait, I did get the impression that it was a woman.

  “Some late-night visitors here for a hush-hush meeting with our old friend?” Phillip mused.

  “Maybe.”

  One of the giants squatted down. At first, I wondered what he was doing, but then the woman in the fedora and scarf ran over to the giant, who hoisted her high up into the air. Ms. Fedora grabbed hold of the top of the iron gate and swung her legs up and over it with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast. Landing deftly on her feet in the driveway on the other side, she straightened up and started striding toward the mansion with deadly purpose.