Spider's Bargain - (Elemental Assassin, #0.5) Page 0,2

of the music.

I’d seen this particular giant around the club a time or two when I’d been in here before. Hard to miss seven feet of solid muscle. Xavier was his name.

Ingles stared at the giant in front of him. His eyes cut to the waitress before flicking back to Xavier. The waitress’s handprint marked Ingles’ cheek like a scarlet letter, not even starting to fade. But the detective made a visible effort to get himself under control. He might be a member of the Ashland po-po, but Ingles knew he’d get his ass kicked if he kept pushing things. Even cops couldn’t get away with assaulting women—at least not in public.

“No problem,” Ingles spat out. “The bitch isn’t worth it. I was just leaving.”

Xavier nodded. “You do that.”

Ingles’ eyes narrowed to slits in his face, but he reached into his pocket, drew out a couple of bills, and tossed them on the Ice bar. Then, the detective turned and started shoving his way through the crowd, heading for the door.

But instead of immediately following him, my gray eyes skimmed over the scene, flicking from the people three deep around the Ice bar to those grooving out on the dance floor to some old song by The Pretenders. Looking for trouble, searching for anything out of place, anyone who was taking a particular interest in my target or me. I’d been an assassin for almost twenty years now, and I hadn’t survived this long by being sloppy.

But once he made sure Ingles was really leaving, Xavier turned back to the waitress, and the two of them started talking. To them, the detective was just another creepy customer they’d had to kick to the curb. It happened, even here at Northern Aggression, where very little was off limits. But no one else showed any interest in Detective Cliff Ingles or more importantly in me.

Which meant it was finally time to make my move.

I swallowed the rest of my gin, enjoying the sensation of the cold liquor sliding down my throat before starting its slow, sweet burn in my stomach. Then, I paid my own tab, walked away from the Ice bar, and sauntered out of the club, moving ever closer toward my prey.

The Spider was ready to spin her web for the evening.

#

It was late July, and the night air was thick with humidity the way it always was this time of year. Ashland was located in the mountainous corner where Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina met in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. So muggy summer nights were part of the region’s many charms. Even here in the city, more than a few fireflies winked on and off in the darkness, their quick little flashes matching the smoldering red glows from the cigarettes of those smoking outside.

Even though it was after midnight now, a line of people still stood outside the nightclub waiting to get in past the giant guarding the velvet rope in front of the entrance. Above his head, a neon sign shaped like a heart with an arrow through it flashed red, then yellow, then orange. The rune for Northern Aggression, the symbol the nightclub’s owner, Roslyn Phillips, used to promote and identify her business.

I walked away from the club’s entrance, scanning the rows of parked cars, looking for Detective Cliff Ingles. Ten…twenty…it didn’t even take me thirty seconds to spot him.

Because Ingles hadn’t gotten far. The detective had moved off into the parking lot and was now stalking back and forth underneath the gently swaying tendrils of a weeping willow. An anonymous black car sat next to the large tree. The detective’s city-issued sedan. The license plate and description had been in the file of information that Fletcher Lane had given me. The old man was nothing if not thorough.

I looked at everything, from the people still standing in line to Ingles to the few folks staggering out to their cars in the side lots that flanked the nightclub. Nobody gave me a second glance, and nobody was sober or close enough to the detective to notice anything—especially not him dying.

Perfect.

I smoothed down my black leather miniskirt and put a little swing in my hips as I approached the detective. If I’d just come to the club to enjoy myself, I would have worn my usual outfit of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. But tonight, since I was going out on the town as the Spider, I’d dressed up a bit, just in case I