Spider's Trap Page 7

  I slumped against him, my head buried against his neck, my entire body warm and boneless.

  “I take it my demonstration was satisfactory?” he rumbled.

  “Satisfactory is one way of putting it.” I leaned back and winked. “Although I could always use another demonstration.” I rocked forward on his lap again, feeling the hard length of him pressing up against me. “One with you wearing far less clothing.”

  This time, Owen was the one who groaned. “I could say the same thing about you.”

  I leaned forward and kissed him, my tongue slipping inside his mouth and thrusting against his. Owen growled low and deep in his throat, and that liquid heat burned through my veins again. I wanted to touch him—now—so I ripped his shirt open instead of bothering with the buttons and starting nipping at his neck and shoulders with my teeth.

  “I think we’ve had enough teasing, don’t you?” he rasped.

  He picked me up and laid me back on the couch. I watched while he got to his feet, shrugged out of his clothes, and grabbed a condom from his wallet. I took my little white pills, but we always used extra protection.

  I drank in the sight of his strong, muscled body, my fingers itching to touch all his warm, supple skin. No matter how many times we were together, I always wanted more of him.

  Owen covered himself with the condom, then leaned down and tugged open the belt on my robe, carefully peeling both sides away from my body, as though he were unwrapping a present. His hot violet gaze raked over me in appreciative fashion, and he leaned down to kiss

  me again, but I put a finger on his lips, stopping him.

  “As you were,” I ordered.

  He quirked an eyebrow, but he sat back down on the couch. I gave him a slow, lazy smile, then got up and straddled him again. I looped my arms around his neck and swiveled my hips in a slow circle, pressing up against his hard length, then retreating.

  “How do you like this demonstration?” I teased, making another slow circle. “Or do I need to take it up a notch?”

  I leaned forward, as though I were finally going to join our bodies together, but stopped just short.

  “Come here, you,” Owen growled.

  He grabbed my hips and pushed inside me with one long, smooth stroke that had us both moaning at how good it felt. Our mouths fused together, our tongues tangling as we devoured each other. Owen’s hands cupped my breasts, kneading the already sensitive mounds, and he kissed his way down my chest, licking first one nipple, then the other.

  I started to rock against him to find the release we were both so desperate for, but Owen’s hands fell to my hips, keeping me in place.

  “Hold still,” he rasped against my skin. “I haven’t finished my feast yet.”

  He leaned forward and kissed my breasts again. I groaned at not being able to move against him, with him, but waiting now would only make it that much better in the end.

  The heat, the emotion, the connection between us built and built, until I was trembling with every soft whisper of his lips and every hot drag of his tongue across my skin. Finally, Owen picked me up and laid me back down on the couch again. We both couldn’t wait any longer. I drew him down on top of me, and he entered me again with another long, hard thrust.

  And this time, he didn’t stop.

  I locked my legs around his waist and pulled his head down to mine. Our lips and tongues and bodies crashed together, and every kiss and thrust fueled our frenzy. We couldn’t get enough of each other, kissing harder, touching longer, pushing faster and faster together.

  Then we both exploded, the world shattering around us as we reached our sweet, ultimate release.

  We rode the afterglow for a long, long time before our bodies eased apart. I grabbed my black robe from where it had fallen on the floor and flipped it over both of us as a makeshift blanket. Then I wrapped my arms around Owen, holding him even tighter than before. He spooned his body against mine, and I slid my fingers through his silky black hair as his breathing evened out and deepened, telling me that he had gone to sleep.

  But I didn’t drift off along with him. Right now, I wanted to enjoy this precious time together. It would have been easy to take for granted how Owen made me feel, but today had proven I couldn’t do that.

  Not now, not ever.

  I might be the new queen of the underworld, but I still had plenty of enemies who wanted me dead. So in a little while, I would wake up Owen and see if he wanted another demonstration. I would enjoy this night with him to the fullest and wring every drop of pleasure I could from it.

  Then, tomorrow, I would track down my enemies and make them pay for what they’d tried to do to me and my friends.

  7

  I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and cooked up a hearty breakfast of country-fried ham, scrambled eggs, and buttermilk pancakes. I was anticipating a long day, and I wanted some stick-to-my-ribs food to fuel whatever new problems might arise. I promised Owen I would call him if I learned anything important, then we kissed, said our good-byes, and went our separate ways to work.

  I parked my car four blocks away from the Pork Pit, the barbecue restaurant that I ran in downtown Ashland. I chose an out-of-the-way spot on a little-used side street where I hoped no one would even think to look for my car, much less plant a bomb on it. Then I stuck my hands into the pockets of my black leather jacket and eased into the stream of commuters flowing down the sidewalk.

  I scanned my surroundings, in case the bomber or the fake waiter might be lurking near the restaurant, but every­one was busy texting or gabbing on their phones, and no one paid me any mind. So I rounded the corner and stepped onto the street where the Pork Pit was located.

  As far as I could tell, no one had noticed me, but I spotted a woman lingering on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, pretending to check her messages, although she kept glancing around. Blond hair, tight red suit jacket, short skirt, oversize sunglasses on her face.

  I recognized her: Jade Jamison, a madam who ran hookers out in the suburbs. I’d helped her out a few weeks earlier when a minor mobster had been threatening her and her workers, despite the agreement they had that was supposed to prevent that sort of thing. I wouldn’t have expected the guy to renege on the deal so quickly, especially since I’d put one of my knives up against his throat and told him to honor their arrangement—or else.

  I sighed. I already had enough problems with the bomber. I didn’t have time for underworld disputes right now too. Jade spotted me, but instead of hurrying over, she ducked her head and focused on her phone again, as though we were strangers.

  I looked left and right, but I didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary lingering on the sidewalks, and no cars idled at the curb in a suspicious manner. But if Jade wanted to pretend we didn’t know each other, I’d play along.

  So I pulled my keys out of my jacket pocket, approached the restaurant, and studied the front door, making sure that no runes had been carved into the wooden frame that would spew out elemental Fire, Ice, or some other magic that would kill me on the spot. But the door was clean, and so were the surrounding windows and what I could see of the storefront through the glass.

  I was happy that I wouldn’t have to try to disarm a rune trap this early in the morning. But it also made me suspicious. There should have been some sort of trap waiting for me here. Since the bomber had failed to assassinate me yesterday, he should have been trying again, as quickly as possible, before I found out who and especially where he was. But there were no runes, no traps, no bombs of any sort. More of that unease swirled through my stomach, that nagging little feeling that made me think that something else was going on besides someone simply wanting to kill me.

  Or perhaps my own constant paranoia was the one trap that I could never truly escape.

  Heels snapped on the sidewalk, and Jade strolled in my direction, still pretending to check her phone.
She frowned and paused beside me, as though whatever she wasn’t really looking at on her screen troubled her.

  “Let me in through the back,” she whispered, then sashayed down the sidewalk, rounded the corner, and disappeared from sight.

  Not what I’d expected, but I was curious enough to see what she wanted.

  So I stepped inside, locked the front door behind me, and flipped on the lights. Vinyl booths lined the windows, with tables and chairs sitting beyond them and a long counter with padded stools situated along the back wall. Blue and pink pig tracks curled every which way through the space, leading to the men’s and women’s restrooms, the cash register, and even into the back of the restaurant. I breathed in, letting the rich, spicy, smoky scent of all the meals I’d cooked seep deep into my lungs. Phillip might have the prettier view on the Delta Queen, but my gin joint certainly smelled far better than the Aneirin River.

  Even though Jade was waiting, I took my sweet time checking the bathrooms, tables, chairs, and counter for runes, traps, and bombs. Satisfied that everything was clean, I pushed through the double doors and went into the back of the restaurant, scanning all the freezers and metal racks filled with foodstuffs, napkins, straws, and silverware. It would be rather embarrassing to be murdered in my own restaurant simply because I’d gotten sloppy and had assumed that no one would come after me here now that I was ostensibly the big boss.

  When I was sure that everything was clean, I opened the back door to find Jade Jamison standing in the alley, her red clutch tucked under her right arm, impatiently tap-tap-tapping the toe of her red stiletto against the cracked, dirty asphalt.

  “Took you long enough,” she muttered. “What were you doing? Putting the pigs out to pasture?”

  “Sorry,” I drawled. “Just making sure that no one had left me a present inside overnight.”

  Jade pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, revealing her green eyes. “Oh, you mean like that bomb on the riverboat yesterday?”

  I kept my face blank, although I was mentally wincing. I’d known that the rumors would fly hard and fast, but I’d underestimated the Ashland grapevine. “You heard about that?”

  “Oh, I heard. The entire underworld has heard by now. Matter of fact, that’s the reason I’m here.”

  “And why is that?”

  She snorted. “Oh, please. Don’t give me the stink-eye, and don’t even think that I had something to do with it. I’m not stupid enough to believe I can kill you. And why would I want to anyway? You kept your word and got Leroy off my back. I haven’t heard a peep from him since your little visit. As far as I’m concerned, you can be the big boss for as long as you live.” She paused. “However brief a time that might actually turn out to be.”

  “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied wryly. “But what’s with all the cloak-and-dagger?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want anyone to see me talking to you. Just in case your reign is particularly short-lived.”

  “There you go again with all that confidence. It’s enough to overinflate a girl’s ego.” Still, her words intrigued me. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

  Jade looked me in the eye. “Because I know where you can find the guy who planted that bomb on the Delta Queen.”

  * * *

  A hundred questions popped into my mind, most of them focused on where this guy was right this second and how quickly I could get him to give up the bomber’s identity and location and kill them both.

  But as urgently as I wanted that information, I decided to be polite about things. Besides, from what I knew of Jade Jamison, she was stubborn enough to dig in her heels if I rushed her. So I ushered her into the storefront, closed all the blinds on the windows so that no one would see her, and gestured for her to sit on one of the stools close to the old-fashioned cash register.

  “Chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla?”

  She frowned. “Um, strawberry? What kind of question is that?”

  Instead of answering, I went into the back and returned with milk, ice cream, a carton of fresh strawberries, and more. I also grabbed a parfait glass from a rack of dishes in the corner.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Cooking,” I said, dumping everything onto the counter in front of her. “It helps me think. So start talking.”

  Jade’s sculpted blond eyebrows shot up in her forehead as I grabbed a bottle of homemade strawberry syrup. “Isn’t it a little early for a milkshake?”

  At her words, my fingers clenched around the ice-cream scoop in my hand, my grip so tight that I could feel the metal handle pressing into my spider rune scar.

  I frowned and forced myself to relax my fingers. It was early for a milkshake. So why had I decided to make one for her? I couldn’t come up with an answer. I’d just thought milkshake for some reason. Weird.

  Jade cleared her throat. “Silvio texted me last night and told me what happened on the riverboat. He asked if I or any of my folks had heard about any new elementals in town, particularly one who can control metal.”

  “Have you?”

  “No.”

  I looked at her. “Then why are you here? You said that you have information about the bombing.”

  “I do. At least, I think I do.” She drew in a breath. “One of my girls went out on a job two nights ago. New client. Staying at the Blue Moon Hotel. You know it?”

  I scooped out a generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream and put it into a blender, along with some milk, fresh strawberries, and several squirts of strawberry syrup. “Yeah. Fancy place over on Carver Street. Has a nice view of the river which adds another hundred bucks to the bill every night.”

  She opened her mouth to continue, but I punched the button on the blender, cutting her off as I zapped the ingredients. When everything was combined, I poured the thick strawberry liquid into the parfait glass, then topped it off with whipped cream, several drizzles of strawberry syrup, and a couple of slices of fresh strawberries. I slid the milkshake across the counter to her.

  Jade plucked a straw out of one of the dispensers, stuck it into the liquid, and took a cautious sip. The surprise on her face quickly melted into pleasure. “That’s a really good milkshake.”

  “Of course it’s good. I made it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your modesty is showing again.”

  I grinned and leaned my elbows down on the counter. Jade took another sip of her milkshake, then set it aside.

  “So,” she continued, “this guy at the Blue Moon Hotel. Bit of a slob but average-looking, a decent tipper, and so on.”

  “But?”

  “But my girl noticed that he had a uniform hanging on the back of the bathroom door.” Jade looked at me. “Black shirt, black pants, and a red tuxedo vest.”

  That got my attention. “A waiter uniform for the Delta Queen.”

  She nodded. “Of course, my girl didn’t think anything of it at the time. But after Silvio called last night and I asked around, she told me about it.”

  “And you came down here to deliver the information to me in person.” My eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Jade shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you realized that I didn’t have anything to do with what happened on the Delta Queen, and neither did my girl.”

  “Duly noted. I appreciate the information.”

  Her red lips curved up into a sly grin. “I hope you’ll remember that the next time I need your special brand of . . . assistance.”

  Suddenly, her reasons for tipping me off were crystal-clear. But that was just the way the world worked, especially in Ashland.

  “Naturally,” I replied in a wry tone.

  Her grin widened. I couldn’t help but like Jade Jamison. She was certainly ballsy, and she watched out for her people, both traits that I admired.

  “So this guy, did he have a name?”


  Jade snorted. “Mr. Smith.”

  I ground my teeth together at the likely alias. Just when I thought I was finally getting somewhere . . .

  “Don’t worry,” she purred, sensing my frustration. “I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Jade reached into her red clutch, pulled out a slip of paper, and slid it across the counter. “He’s still there. He called my girl again this morning and booked another session for this evening at her hotel, so it doesn’t seem like he has any plans to leave town anytime soon.”

  I stared at the piece of paper. Mr. Smith. Room 321. Blue Moon Hotel.

  Anticipation surged through me, but I calmly took the paper, tucked it under a slot in the cash register, and reached for the ice cream and the blender again.

  “What are you doing?” Jade asked.

  I grinned at her. “Making you another milkshake You earned it.”

  8

  Jade drank one of her strawberry milkshakes, complaining the whole time that it would go straight to her ass, but she left with a smile on her face, the other milkshake in a to-go cup, and a cardboard box full of barbecue sandwiches, sides, and all the fixings for her crew.

  As much as I would have liked to have gone straight over to the Blue Moon Hotel, shown Mr. Smith the business end of one of my knives, and gotten some answers about what was going on, I still had a restaurant to run. Besides, if the bomber or someone else was watching the Pork Pit, he might see me leave, follow me over to the hotel, and warn Smith to skedaddle before I could get my hands on him. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize the very pointed conversation I planned on having with Smith.

  But even more than that, I wanted some time to think, to plot and plan, before I confronted Smith. I had a lot of puzzle pieces floating around in my mind, and I needed to put them in some sort of order—before the bomber tried again. So I stayed in the storefront and started my morning chores, including putting together a batch of Fletcher’s secret barbecue sauce.