"Do you need some help, Gin?" Owen asked in a soft voice. "I can be there in ten minutes."

And this thing might be over with in one, depending on what the two of them wanted and what they knew about me and who I really was. Still, it pleased me that Owen cared enough to come, that he wanted to help me, wanted to stick his neck out for me.

I put my left hand down under the counter out of sight and palmed one of my silverstone knives. The blade was sharp enough to cut through almost anything, including McAllister's inflated ego-and neck.

"No, I think I can handle it. Sophia's here now, and Finn is on his way. Four really would be a crowd," I murmured. "Besides, they're not here to kill me. They want something instead. They wouldn't have come in through the front door otherwise. And if they knew who I really was, they would have brought some of Mab's giants along with them for backup, at the very least. Maybe even Mab herself, if she was in the mood to watch."

More silence.

"Will I see you tonight then?" Owen asked. "When it's over?"

"Probably not. I have a feeling that I'm going to be busy."

Owen blew out a tense breath. "All right. Just-be careful. And call me later, okay?"

"Okay," I said and hung up.

Jonah McAllister's brown eyes flicked over the store-front, and his lip curled up into a faint sneer, the way it always did when he came in here. With its simple, blue and pink vinyl booths, the Pork Pit wasn't exactly the expensive, elegant, highfalutin joint McAllister was used to dining in. I doubted that he ever went anywhere where the floor was covered with pig tracks done in peeling blue and pink paint, respectively, that led to the men's and women's restrooms.

Still, the lawyer carefully examined everything before his eyes slid to me standing behind the cash register, which sat on top of a long counter running down the back wall. To my left, a bloody framed copy of Where the Red Fern Grows decorated the wall, along with a picture of Fletcher Lane in his younger years. Both were mementoes of Fletcher that I kept in his restaurant as a tribute to the old man.

McAllister drew off first one of his black leather gloves, then the other, tucking them into the pocket of his long coat before striding toward me. His walk was just as slick and smooth as everything else about him, designed to impress and intimidate at the same time.

"Jonah McAllister," I drawled, still holding my silverstone knife out of sight below the counter. "To what do I owe this honor?"

McAllister gave me a cold, thin smile that didn't even come close to stretching his tight features or reaching his brown eyes. "Gin Blanco. So lovely to see you again. As for what I want, well, I thought that I'd show my lady friend here some of the sights of Ashland. She's new in town and trying to get the lay of the land, so to speak."

LaFleur stepped up next to McAllister, and I got my first close-up look at the assassin. She wore a pair of tight, black leather pants, topped with an expensive flowing silk shirt done in a dark green. Thin ribbons laced up the front of the shirt, giving it a bit of old-fashioned elegance. A matching green pea coat completed the stylish ensemble, along with a pair of black stiletto boots. A headband made of emeralds kept her short, black hair back off her face. An expensive bauble. I could tell that the gems were real and not just glass, because I could hear the stones whispering of their own proud beauty. A smug, arrogant sound that perfectly matched what I knew of their owner.

LaFleur had a heart-shaped face that was almost as beautiful as Roslyn's. The assassin's skin was as smooth and pale as marble-perfectly flawless. Her eyes were a bright, vivid green-the same color as the lightning that I'd seen her use to blast the dwarf on the docks the other night. Even now, her electrical magic sparked in the depths of her green gaze. Just a hint of elemental power surrounded her, the kind of faint static charge that you felt in the air right before a lightning storm, but it still made the silverstone embedded in my hands itch and burn.

As for her figure, LaFleur was petite, with a trim, athletic build. She might be thin, but there was a lean, coiled strength to her body that her expensive clothes just couldn't hide.

But the most curious thing about her was the tattoo.

It started at the hollow of her throat as a simple vine that curled up her neck until it unfurled into a single, perfect orchid. The faintest hints of green, peach, and cream-white inked in the tattoo. The artistry was exquisite in its detail, and given the petal-soft quality of LaFleur's skin, it was almost like looking at a real flower. The steady thump of her pulse in her throat made the orchid's leaves and petals twitch ever so slightly, like it was constantly blossoming.

Well, it looked as if Fletcher had been right about LaFleur's having some sort of tattoo. And now that I'd seen it, I knew that it was even more than that. The orchid was also LaFleur's rune, the symbol for delicate grace. That's why she always left a single white orchid behind at the scene of her kills. Because it was her mark, just the way my spider rune was to me, or Mab Monroe's sunburst necklace was to her. LaFleur left an actual flower behind instead of just drawing the complicated rune somewhere. Maybe she didn't have the artistic skill to re-create the rune, or maybe she just didn't want to take the time. After all, most assassins didn't stick around too long after their hits. That was a good way to get caught or get dead.

Still, something about the orchid tattoo bothered me. Maybe it was the way it was placed on her neck, how it curled up her skin, but I knew that I'd seen one like it somewhere before. On someone that I'd killed before-

"It's so nice to meet you, Gin," the assassin said, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice was lower than I thought it would be, with a faintly sibilant, seductive tone. "I'm Elektra LaFleur."

I kept my face smooth, as though the name LaFleur meant nothing to me. Elektra, either, even though it was an obvious play on her electrical power. What a cliche. I wondered if that was her real name or one that she'd just chosen for herself, given her elemental magic. Didn't much matter either way. She was still going to die.

I nodded my head at her, even as my thumb traced over the hilt of my silverstone knife.

At this point, Sophia had gotten interested in things. The Goth dwarf knew all about my problems with Jonah McAllister and had actually stopped stirring her pot of baked beans long enough to stare over her shoulder at the three of us. Sophia made a questioning sort of growl low in her throat, telling me that she was up for whatever I wanted to do, however I wanted to handle McAllister and LaFleur.

I met the dwarf's black gaze and made a flat, level, slashing motion with my hand, the one still holding the knife down out of sight. No, I was telling her. Stay cool. There was no real problem here-yet.

Besides, I wanted to see exactly what McAllister wanted, exactly why he'd brought LaFleur here to the Pit, before we got into anything ... messy.

"So do we seat ourselves or is there somewhere ... special that we need to go?" McAllister asked.

My eyes narrowed. "You came here to eat? In my restaurant?"

That was one of the very last things I'd ever expected him to say.

McAllister gave me another cold smile. "That is what one does here, is it not? I was under the impression that you were running a restaurant." His brown eyes roamed over the clean, but well-worn, interior once more. "Such as it is."

The arrogant sneer in McAllister's bombastic voice might have made a lesser woman cower. Instead, below the counter, my hand tightened around my silverstone knife.

But instead of bringing up my weapon and ending the arrogant lawyer's miserable existence, I tucked it into a slot under the cash register. There was nothing I could do but seat them. Not without creating a whole lot of trouble for everyone in the restaurant.

If it had just been me and Sophia, well, I might have brought up my hidden knife and slit Elektra LaFleur's throat with it before turning my deadly brand of attention to Jonah McAllister. But there were innocent people in here, people who had nothing to do with my feud with McAllister.

Even when I'd been the Spider full-time and assassinating people for money, I'd never killed innocents, no matter what. There were certain rules that you just didn't break, even if you were a cold-hearted bitch of an assassin like me. No kids, no pets, no bystanders. It was a code that Fletcher had taught me, one that I'd lived by for years. One that I still adhered to today-and one of the few things that was keeping McAllister alive right now.

Besides, I wanted to see exactly what kind of game the lawyer was playing, what he thought he was doing here, other than being a dick. So I leaned over, picked up a couple of stray menus, and stepped around to the other side of the counter.

"This way."

I led them over to a booth next to the storefront windows, which was as far away from the back counter, Sophia, and the other two pairs of diners as I could get them. Still too close for my liking, though.

Jonah and Elektra settled themselves in the booth, sitting on opposite sides. I handed each one of them a menu and took a step back.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked in a flat voice.

"I suppose it's too much to hope you have any sort of wine here," Jonah sneered again. "I imagine it would just be cheap swill anyway. Or worse, some sort of home-grown moonshine."

"Jonah will have an ice water with lemon," Elektra interrupted him in a smooth tone. "And I'll have a strawberry lemonade."

I raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised that she was ordering for him-and that he didn't dress her down for having the nerve to do it.

Elektra reached over and started tracing small circles with her fingertips on the back of McAllister's smooth hand. She gave him a sly smile, which he returned, before his cold brown eyes dropped to what he could see of her cleavage through the undone ribbons on her green shirt. A knowing smirk curved his tight face, like he knew exactly what was underneath the slick fabric.

Oh. So that's how it was. An interesting development. I wondered if Mab Monroe knew that her lawyer was fucking her assassin. I was willing to bet no. The Fire elemental would frown on that kind of fraternization, if only to make sure that her minions stayed loyal to her alone. Not that I imagined that McAllister and LaFleur had any kind of real love connection, but still, people would do a lot of crazy things for sex. Like kill for it.

"I'll be back in a minute to take your orders."

Jonah waved his hand at me, a clear indication that I was dismissed. Anger filled me at his arrogance, but I didn't act on it. Instead, I put the emotion aside for now. It would only motivate me that much more later, when there was no one around but me, McAllister, and my silverstone knives.

I stalked away from their booth and went back behind the counter

"Call Finn," I said in a low voice to Sophia as I grabbed a couple of glasses and filled them with ice. "Tell him that LaFleur is here and will probably be here for at least the next hour. Tell him to park out on the street and follow her and McAllister when they leave. The two of them just might lead us to Natasha. And tell Finn to bring whatever supplies he might need to finish things. I want to end this-tonight."

Sophia grunted her acknowledgment and kept stirring her beans.

I finished fixing the drinks. Then I grabbed my order pad and pen, along with the glasses, and walked back over to their booth. I plunked down the drinks, not caring that McAllister's water slopped over the side and spilled onto the table.

And neither did Elektra LaFleur.

A drop of water landed on her skin, and a green spark immediately sizzled to life there. Bzzzt. The water crackled against her flesh as though she was a real-life bug zapper, and since one of my hands was down in the water on the table, I felt the shock of it zip through the liquid and up into my body. To my surprise, it hurt, like I'd just stuck my finger into a socket and gotten a bad jolt-one that made my teeth clench and my heart race. Startled, I looked at her.

LaFleur gave me a soft, warm smile, her eyes a much brighter green now, more electricity sparking in her gaze. She knew that she'd zinged me with her power, and she'd liked the fact that I'd felt it and that it had hurt. Maybe she'd even sensed my surprise and discomfort, given her elemental magic, the way that I could hear murmurs in stone. And I suddenly knew that's why she electrocuted people when she assassinated them, instead of using a knife or a gun. LaFleur enjoyed feeling other people's pain. She probably got some kind of high off it, like so many elementals did when they used their magic. Sadistic bitch.

"I hate winter, don't you?" Elektra said in a bored tone. "All this static electricity in the air. I'm always getting a jolt. Aren't you?"

"Sure," I muttered. "Happens all the time. What'll it be?"

Jonah McAllister ordered a cheeseburger and fries, while Elektra LaFleur opted for a barbecue pork sandwich with baked beans, French fries, and a side of coleslaw. The woman had a healthy appetite, that was for sure. I wondered where she was going to put it all on that lean frame of hers. Then again, I supposed she needed a lot of juice to fry people alive with her electrical magic.

I went back over to the counter. Sometime while I'd been talking to McAllister and LaFleur, Sophia had disappeared into the back of the restaurant. A moment later, the Goth dwarf pushed through the swinging doors and resumed her position in front of the stove.

"Finn?" I asked in a low voice, slapping a hamburger patty onto the hot griddle.

"On his way," Sophia rasped in her broken voice.

In silence, the two of us worked to get the order ready. I finished McAllister's cheeseburger, while Sophia dished up LaFleur's baked beans. I didn't look over my shoulder, but I could hear McAllister and LaFleur talking softly.