“Why would you say that?”
Bria pointed at me and made a little circle with her index finger. “Because I can see the wheels turning in your mind and the worry written all over your face. But who would have a reason to go after Mosley? Some angry bank client?”
“I don’t know. But you don’t get to be as powerful, wealthy, and influential as he is without making some serious enemies.” I started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. “And if this was just a mugging, then why didn’t Eddie bash Mosley on the head as soon as he reached his car? Why didn’t Eddie just go ahead and kill him? If you only want what’s in a guy’s wallet, or maybe even his car, then you’re not going to be too concerned about what shape you leave him in. It’s a simple smash, grab, and go.”
“That’s how it usually goes down with Vera and Eddie’s victims,” Xavier said. “They’ve already put a couple of guys in the hospital with broken bones this year, and it’s still January.”
I kept pacing. “So why didn’t they follow that same script tonight? Because they didn’t—not at all. Eddie didn’t lay a hand on Mosley until after Vera got out of the car and confronted him. It’s like the giant was waiting for her to double-check and make sure they had the right guy before he did anything. Even then, Eddie just grabbed Mosley’s arm like he was going to force the dwarf into his own car instead of really hurting him. This seems more like an attempted kidnapping than a mugging to me.”
“Maybe they did want to take Mosley someplace more private,” Bria suggested. “Given all the wealthy folks who eat at Underwood’s, maybe they saw this as an opportunity for a bigger score. Maybe they wanted more than his car and wallet and planned to take Mosley back to his house and see what was worth stealing there. Maybe they heard about the recent robbery attempt at First Trust and decided to try something similar. Or maybe they were hoping to get banking information out of him, whether it was Mosley’s personal info or some other accounts.”
All her theories made sense, and any one of those scenarios could have been the muggers’ motives, but I couldn’t shake this bad, bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “But what about the other car? The one that pulled out of the alley after we took down Vera and Eddie?”
Xavier looked at Bria. “Maybe Vera and Eddie added somebody to their crew. A lookout or someone more familiar with this neighborhood. Plus, if they were going to take Mosley’s car somewhere, either back to his house or over to a chop shop, then they would need someone to pick them up and drive them away afterward.”
That made sense too, but it still didn’t ease my concern. I rubbed my aching head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to think right now.”
“Don’t worry.” Bria laid a gentle, understanding hand on my arm. “Xavier and I will look into it. We’ll find out if Vera and Eddie were the ones working this neighborhood and if they were a solo act or reporting to someone else.”
“You can count on it,” Xavier added.
“Thank you for that.” I paused. “And for not saying that I’m paranoid like Finn always does.”
Bria and Xavier exchanged a knowing look, their lips stretching into amused grins.
“Well, you are totally paranoid,” Bria said. “But that’s one of the things we love about you, Gin.”
“So you love me because I see crazy Circle conspiracies everywhere.” I sighed. “Great. Just great.”
Bria laughed, slung her arm around my shoulder, and hugged me. Then she stepped back, and her grin faded into a far more serious expression. “You might be paranoid, but you’ve also been right way too many times for me to doubt you now.”
“Me too,” Xavier chimed in. “Trust us, Gin. We’ll help you get to the bottom of this. If someone is after Mosley, we’ll find out who they are and what they want.”
The love, trust, dedication, and determination shining in their eyes made a lump of emotion swell up in my throat. I nodded and hugged Bria tight, before doing the same to Xavier.
“All right, all right,” Xavier rumbled. “That’s enough of that. We’re tough-as-nails cops, remember? Hugging completely ruins our street cred. Besides, we’ve got work to do.”
I hugged him again anyway, then stepped back. “Right. I’ll leave you to it.”
Xavier winked at me, and then he and Bria went back over to look through Vera’s clutch and Eddie’s pockets a second time for any clues they might have missed.
I stayed where I was, my gaze flicking over everything again. Vera’s and Eddie’s still, crumpled forms, the pools of blood oozing out from underneath their bodies, the shattered windshield glass glittering like sharp diamonds all over the sidewalk and street.
Nothing out of the ordinary for Ashland. It was all perfectly in keeping with a mugging gone right and the victim fighting back and winning against his attackers.
Still, the more I studied the scene, the more worried I became. Someone had wanted something from Mosley, and they had sent Vera and Eddie to get it, probably by any means necessary. Kidnapping, torture, murder. Those weren’t out of the ordinary for Ashland either. Not at all.
I just wondered what Stuart Mosley had that was so important—and how long it would be before his enemy tried to take it from him again.
Chapter Five
Bria and Xavier finished their preliminary examination and called in the crime scene. About ten minutes later, a couple of patrol cars arrived, lighting up the entire block with their flashing blue and white lights. Bria and Xavier directed the other cops as they cordoned off the area and started collecting evidence, including Mosley’s beat-up car.
Given my nocturnal activities and my reputation as the Spider, more than a few of the cops eyed me, their emotions ranging from curiosity to wariness to open hostility. Time for us to go. Finn led Mosley and me through an alley and over to the parking garage where he’d stashed his own car, and away we went.
Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in a cherry-red chair in an old-fashioned Southern beauty salon. Glossy magazines were stacked more than a foot high on the table next to my right elbow, while a plastic pink tub full of tubes of lipstick and bottles of nail polish perched on the table to my left. More tubs bristling with combs, brushes, rollers, scissors, and other teasing, curling, and cutting implements lined a long counter that took up most of a nearby wall.
The air smelled like the chemicals used in the perms, hair dyes, and other beauty treatments, along with a sweet, soothing hint of vanilla. Normally, I found the mix of strong and soft scents comforting, but tonight they made my stomach roil. The memory of the Dollmaker serial killer dyeing my dark brown hair a bright platinum blond to try to turn me into his dream woman was still a little too fresh in my mind for me to relax in the salon like normal.
“He threw you around like you were a piñata, didn’t he, darling?” a light, feminine voice murmured.
I looked over at Jolene “Jo-Jo” Deveraux, who was sitting right next to me, staring at me with her clear, almost colorless eyes, and evaluating my many cuts, bumps, and bruises. For a moment, I was so lost in my memories that I thought she was talking about Bruce Porter, the Dollmaker. But then I realized that she was referring to Eddie, the giant mugger.
Of course she was. New week, new bad guy pummeling me to a bloody pulp. Nothing out of the ordinary for the Spider, right down to all the emotional wounds that the battles left behind on my black heart. Although Bruce Porter and his sadistic ritual of kidnapping women, painting their mouths with blood-red lipstick, and then beating them to death had wounded me far deeper than most.
A couple of weeks had passed since I’d faced down Porter, but sometimes it felt like it had happened just an hour ago. During the day, I could focus on all my other problems to keep the flashbacks at bay, but that wasn’t the case at night. More often than not, I woke up screaming from the memory of Porter chasing me through the cold, snowy woods, determined to murder me the same way he had so many other women.
In the end, I’d managed to kill Porter, but he’d still
left behind a horrible scar on my heart, one that wouldn’t heal for a long, long time—if ever.
I shook my head to clear away the unwanted memories and focused on Jo-Jo again. It was after nine o’clock now, and the dwarf was ready for bed, in her long white fleece housecoat patterned with tiny pink roses. Her middle-aged face was free of its usual understated makeup, and her white-blond hair was wrapped in pink sponge rollers. I’d never understood how Jo-Jo managed to sleep in those rollers, especially every single night. They always dug into my scalp and gave me a terrible headache whenever I used them. But she was the beauty expert, not me.
“Piñata is a bit generous,” Finn chirped from a nearby couch. “After all, a piñata puts up some resistance when you whack it. Gin was more like a rag doll tonight.”
“You’re not helping,” I muttered.
“I’m sitting here providing the color commentary. That’s all the helping that I need to do,” he said in a smug voice. “Besides, I wasn’t the one who got body-slammed into a car. That was all you, Gin.”
“Come outside with me, and I can fix that.”
Finn ignored my threat, licked his thumb, and turned another page in the beauty magazine he was reading. I glared at him, but he kept right on ignoring me, although Mosley let out an amused chuckle.
The dwarf was sitting in the corner, idly rubbing his wing tip across the back of Rosco, Jo-Jo’s basset hound, who was curled up in his wicker basket. Rosco’s eyes were closed, but his paws twitched, and little grunts of pleasure rumbled out of his mouth, telling everyone how much he was thoroughly enjoying his back rub.
“Well, no matter what happened, let me get to work on you,” Jo-Jo said.
A milky-white glow sparked to life in her eyes, as well as on her palm, and she leaned forward and started moving her hand up and down in front of my body.
In addition to using her Air elemental magic to smooth out her salon clients’ wrinkles and keep their skin looking young and firm, Jo-Jo also used her power to heal me whenever I tangled with a dangerous enemy. She had already worked her magic on Mosley, who’d had some ugly bruises on his throat from Vera’s baton, and now it was my turn. Finn, of course, had escaped the entire incident unscathed. Lucky son of a gun.
The invisible pins and needles of Jo-Jo’s magic stabbed into my body from head to toe as she grabbed hold of the oxygen in the air, circulated the healing molecules through my wounds, and then used those same molecules to stitch my cuts together, reduce the swelling, and fade out my many bruises. I gritted my teeth against the uncomfortable prickling sensation of her Air magic, which was the complete opposite of my own cold, hard Ice and Stone powers.
A few minutes later, Jo-Jo dropped her hand, the milky-white glow snuffed out of her eyes, and all those annoying pins and needles finally quit stabbing into my body.
“There you go, darling,” she said. “Good as new.”
“Thanks to you.”
Jo-Jo winked at me. “Customer service is my specialty.”
Finn tossed his magazine down onto the couch and got to his feet. “Good. Now that everyone’s healed, I can drop Gin at her place, and then the boss man and I can go to my apartment.”
Mosley frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re coming home with me tonight,” Finn said.
The dwarf was so surprised that he stopped petting Rosco, who let out a plaintive whine.
But Mosley ignored the basset hound, stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave my brother a stubborn look. “I might be an old man, but I am still perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well, at the very least, you need a chauffeur, since you don’t even have a car right now,” Finn countered. “Or do you not remember the cops getting ready to tow it away?”
Mosley glowered at him, but Finnegan Lane was impervious to angry looks, even from his boss, and he kept right on talking, the way he always did.
“You have no idea how much it pained me to see all the dents in that beautiful, beautiful piece of machinery. Not to mention the broken windshield.” Finn clutched his fist over his heart for emphasis. “We’re talking deep, sharp, stabbing physical pain.”
“It pained you?” I sniped. “I was the one who got body-slammed into the hood and windshield, as you so eloquently put it.”
Finn waved his hand, dismissing my words. “And that’s just another Tuesday night for you, Gin. We’re talking about Stuart here. Quit trying to hog the limelight.”
Hog the limelight? My fingers twitched, and my left eye joined in with the annoyed chorus. At that moment, I was very, very tempted to show him what deep, sharp, stabbing physical pain really felt like, courtesy of one of my knives.
Mosley jutted out his chin, still being stubborn. “I can take a cab home.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “You mean home to that rustic mansion that’s way up on that ridge all by itself? Where more muggers could already be lying in wait for you? Where no one would hear you scream as you were tortured for days on end? Much less find your mutilated body after the fact? Think again, mister.”
Other than the occasional quip, Finn hadn’t said much while Mosley and I had been getting healed, but apparently he’d come to the same conclusion I had—that tonight’s attempted mugging was far more than what it seemed to be. More than that, I could see the tension in his shoulders and hear the worry in his voice. Finn had already lost his dad, and he didn’t want to lose the other father figure he had in Mosley.
The dwarf stabbed his finger at Finn, almost poking him in the chest. “You don’t order me around. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the boss. Not to mention old enough to be your grandfather several times over. I’ve already forgotten more dangerous situations than you’ve ever even been in.”
“Oh, I doubt that, given Gin’s propensity for getting herself into trouble with the worst of the worst,” Finn drawled. “Do you know how many times she’s almost died in the past sixteen months or so?”
“Hey!” I said. “When did this become about me?”
But it wasn’t about me—not really—and the two of them didn’t even look at me. They were still too busy glaring at each other, and it seemed their argument was going to keep right on going, since both of them were far too mule-headed to give in. I rolled my eyes, got up from my chair, and stepped between them, looking at Mosley.
“We spent a lot of time talking about Fletcher at dinner and the adventures the two of you had. So think about the old man,” I said in a soft voice. “What would he want you to do? Both as the Tin Man and as your friend.”
Mosley glared at me for a moment before his expression slowly softened into one of grudging acceptance. “He would want me to stay with Finn until we figure out if there’s anything else going on here.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but I held up my hand, stopping him.
“Then it’s settled,” I repeated in a firm voice. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
After a moment, he nodded and gave me a sheepish grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent!” Finn clapped his hand on his boss’s shoulder. “What do you say, roomie? Ready to go home, eat junk food, and talk about cute girls until the sun comes up?”
Mosley winced, and his lips curled up with equal amounts of fear and horror at the thought of all that male bonding. Now he was the one who was feeling deep, sharp, stabbing physical pain. Couldn’t blame him for that.
* * *
The three of us thanked Jo-Jo again for her healing services, then left the salon.
Finn dropped me off at Fletcher’s house, my house now, and steered his car around in the driveway to head back to his apartment in the city. Mosley stared at me through the passenger’s-side window with that pained expression on his face again, like he was hoping I would stop the vehicle and save him from the impending Finnegan Lane slumber party. I grinned and waved good ni
ght to them.
Once they were gone, I turned around in a slow circle, studying everything from the dark woods in the distance to the flat yard in front of the house to the rocky ridge that dropped away at the far edge of the grass. I also reached out with my Stone magic, listening to the emotional vibrations that rippled through the gravel driveway beneath my feet, the brick and other stone that made up the house, and the rocks hidden in the snow-dusted grass and the woods beyond.
But the only sounds that echoed back to me were the high, piercing whistle of the wind sweeping over the ridge, the gentle plop-plop-plop of snow falling from the tree branches, and the rustle of a few small animals through the dead leaves, burrowing deeper into their shelters for the night. No one had been near the house since I’d left for dinner earlier. Good. I had no desire to deal with any more attackers tonight.
So I walked over to the porch, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside the house. I had just toed off my boots when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my purse and stared at the screen. The text was from Silvio Sanchez.
I sighed. Of course. My personal assistant had an annoying habit of tracking my phone and contacting me the second I got home to make sure I was okay. I swiped the screen so I could read the message.
Muggers? Really? What happened to a nice, quiet dinner with friends?
I thought about not responding, but if I didn’t, he would just keep texting until I did. So I sent him a brief and deliberately vague message.
I’m fine. See you tomorrow at the PP.
I waited several seconds, wondering if he would text me back, but for once, Silvio restrained himself, and my phone stayed silent. A minute passed, then two, then three. I grinned. The vampire was probably pacing back and forth, glaring at his phone, and cursing my stubbornness in not immediately calling and telling him all the juicy details. Silvio worried over me worse than a mama duck over her baby, and this was my subtle way of reminding him that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Plus, I liked annoying him a little bit.