Poison Promise
Page 3

I cautiously approached Catalina, who had stepped away from the chain-link fence and was staring down at Troy. Emotions flashed in her hazel eyes, and her lips were pinched tight in what almost looked like regret, although I had no idea why she would feel that way about Troy.
“You okay?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Catalina edged past me and scurried over to where her backpack lay on the cracked asphalt. She scooped the wayward pens, books, and other items back into her bag as fast as she could. Couldn’t blame her for that. I’d want to get away from me too, if I was in her position. Her sharp, hurried motions made the Pork Pit pig pin on the side of her backpack sparkle, like a cartoon character that was laughing maniacally at me.
She was so busy grabbing her stuff that she didn’t realize that her wallet had also fallen out of the bag. I crouched down, plucked the leather off the pavement, and flipped it open.
Catalina Vasquez. Twenty-one. Five foot four. Lived in an apartment at 1369 Lighting Bug Lane.
I let out a low whistle. “Lightning Bug Lane? That’s a nice part of town. Especially for a college student.”
Catalina snatched her wallet out of my hand and shoved it into her backpack. “Just forget it, okay? Forget you saw me, forget about Troy, and I will forget all about this.”
She gestured at the three guys, all of whom were still groaning on the pavement.
Catalina slung her backpack onto her shoulder, and surged to her feet. I did the same and stuck my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible for someone who had just taken out three bigger, stronger guys without breaking a sweat.
“I didn’t need your help, Gin. I was handling things fine on my own.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “For someone about to get the stuffing beat out of her by some lowlife drug dealer and his friends.”
Anger flared in her hazel eyes. “I could have handled Troy. I always have before.”
“So you know him, then.”
She gave a sharp jerk of her head.
“Look, if you’re in some sort of trouble—”
“Forget it,” Catalina snapped. “I’m not in trouble, I’m not one of your charity cases, and I don’t need your help, Gin.”
I arched an eyebrow at her vehement tone. At the Pork Pit, Catalina was always positive, calm, cheerful, and upbeat. In all the months she’d worked for me, I’d never heard her so much as raise her voice before, not even when a customer complained, a kid spilled a drink all over the floor, or someone left her a lousy tip. But now she was glaring at me like I was the one who’d threatened her, instead of Troy and his friends.
Catalina must have seen the questions in my face, because she pinched the bridge of her nose before dropping her hand. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Thanks for helping me out. I appreciate it. Really, I do. But this is nothing. Okay? I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
Catalina tried to smile at me, but it was a miserable attempt. She tightened her grip on her backpack, spun around, and marched across the lot. At first, I thought she was getting into a rusted, rattletrap truck that had seen better days, but Catalina moved past the truck and popped open the door on a very nice late-model Mercedes-Benz, a car that was a little too nice for someone who worked as a waitress.
I paid my folks good wages but not that good. And that street where she lived was in one of the city’s nicest suburbs, close to Northtown, the part of Ashland where the rich, social, powerful, and magical elite lived. So what was she doing being harassed by some drug dealer? Especially one who knew her? Because there had been nothing casual or random about the way Troy had spoken to Catalina. From what he had said, they used to be friends—and more.
I’d never paid much attention to Catalina before. I’d had too many other things to think about these past few months, too many folks trying to kill me, and too many new enemies to face down to give her much thought. She was just a girl who worked for me, although she was an excellent employee and had lasted longer than most of my other waitresses. But I was very interested in her now. Because if Troy wanted her to push drugs, then she was already in way over her head. And if he or whoever he worked for thought that I was letting anyone deal anything in my restaurant, well, I’d be happy to show them how wrong they were—and how I handled threats to my gin joint.
Catalina threw her car into reverse, backed out of the space, and peeled out of the parking lot as fast as she could without blowing out her tires on the cracks and potholes. I made note of her license-plate number so I could pass it on to Finn later.
I didn’t know what was going on with Catalina Vasquez, but I was going to find out.
•
I got into my own car, cranked the engine, and left Troy and his two still-whimpering friends behind. I steered out of the lot and cruised the streets around the college, making random turns and keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. Just because I hadn’t seen anyone else with Troy didn’t mean that more of his friends hadn’t been hidden in the shadows, and I didn’t want anyone following me to my destination.
But no one was tailing me, so I made a final turn out of the downtown loop and headed for the much nicer, though no less dangerous, confines of Northtown. My Aston Martin might have been a snazzy set of wheels at the college, but up here, my ride was downright shabby compared with some of the Audis, BMWs, and Bentleys that whizzed by. And the estates that the cars turned into were even more impressive, with massive mansions, pristine pools, and landscaped lawns stretching as far as the eye could see.
I drove through an open iron gate and parked in front of one of the smaller, more modest and tasteful mansions in this particular neighborhood. A scan of the yard satisfied me that no one was skulking around, so I got out of my car and used my key to let myself into the mansion.
Thick rugs covered the hardwood floors and metal sculptures perched in the corners, giving the spacious home plenty of cozy personality. Noise and flickering lights drifted out of one of the downstairs living rooms, so I headed in that direction.
Two college-age girls wearing yoga pants and T-shirts sprawled across a sofa, sharing a tub of cheesy popcorn, watching some rom-com on the flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. One girl was quite beautiful, with blue-black hair, blue eyes, and a lithe figure. The other was also striking, with frizzy blond hair, dark eyes, and burnished brown skin that hinted at her Cherokee heritage.
Eva Grayson was Owen’s baby sister, and Violet Fox was her best friend. The two girls could be found hanging out together more often than not, and it looked like they were settled in for a movie night, given the buckets of popcorns, open bags of M&M’s, and stacks of DVDs that covered the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“So has someone loved and lost yet?” I drawled, leaning against the open doorway.
“Nah,” Eva said, still staring at the screen. “We’re still at the I-hate-you-but-I’m-strangely-attracted-to-you-anyway stage.”
“Ah,” I said. “That’s my favorite part.”
The floor creaked behind me, and a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist. “Mine too,” a husky voice murmured in my ear.
Owen pressed a soft kiss to the side of my neck. I leaned back against his body and breathed in, his rich, faintly metallic scent filling my nose. He kissed the other side of my neck, making me shiver, and I turned around and stared up into his violet eyes. Despite his slightly crooked nose and the faint white scar that slashed across his chin, I thought that Owen Grayson was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I smoothed back a lock of black hair that had fallen over his forehead, then stood on my tiptoes and returned his soft kisses with a much more direct and steamier one of my own.
Eva rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Take it to the bedroom, folks. We have enough fireworks to watch on the screen.”
She tossed a handful of popcorn at us, and so did a snickering Violet. Owen and I both laughed as we broke apart.
“Don’t worry,” Owen said, leaning over the side of the couch and mussing his sister’s hair. “We won’t make you witness any more horrible public displays of affection. Although didn’t someone tell me that she had a chemistry test tomorrow?”
Eva swatted his hand away, wrinkled her nose, and shot an evil glare at a thick book peeking out from underneath one of the bags of M&M’s. “Maybe. This is why Violet and I are having a movie night. So we can relax before we study.”
“Right.” Owen drawled out the word. “Let me know how well that works out.”
He ruffled Eva’s hair a final time before giving me a slow, suggestive wink. He crooked his finger at me and started walking backward down the hallway toward his bedroom. I grinned and had started to follow him when a thought occurred to me.
I turned back to the girls. “Y’all know Catalina from the restaurant, right? She takes classes at the college too.”
Eva shrugged, but Violet nodded.
“Yeah, I know Catalina,” Violet said. “She’s my partner in English lit. We’re working on a research paper about mythology.”
“Has she ever said anything to you about a guy named Troy?”
“Troy?” Violet asked. “Do you mean Troy Mannis?”
I nodded.
“Yeah. He’s her ex. The two of them used to go out, back before Catalina’s mom died.”
I frowned. “Her mom died?”
Violet pushed her black glasses up on her nose. “Yeah, maybe sometime last year? I think it was before she started working at the Pork Pit. Her mom was hit and killed by a drunk driver. That’s all I really know. Catalina doesn’t talk about herself much.”
Well, that was more than I’d known about Catalina. I’d get Finn to dig deeper and fill in the rest of the blanks for me.
“Why are you asking?” Violet asked, her face scrunching up with worry. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”
Eva stared at me too, that same worry flashing in her blue eyes as she chewed on her lip. Even though Owen and I tried to shield them from the worst of it, both girls knew exactly what I did as the Spider and all the problems I was having with Ashland’s underworld bosses. Still, there was no reason to ruin their evening with what had happened at the college.
“Nah,” I said, waving my hand. “Catalina helped me out with something, so I thought I’d return the favor and give her an extra day off with pay or something.”
Both of the girls relaxed at my lie. On the TV screen, the rom-com couple murmured flirty insults to each other in some fancy restaurant.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your movie,” I said, waggling my eyebrows in the direction Owen had gone. “Especially since I have my own hot date tonight.”
Eva and Violet both laughed and threw more popcorn at me, chasing me out of the living room.
I headed down the hall, past Owen’s office with its rows of weapons mounted on the walls, and over to his bedroom. I opened the door, stepped inside, and let out a surprised gasp.
Warm golden light enveloped the area, as flames danced on the tops of dozens of lit candles. The slender white tapers covered every available surface, from the dresser to the nightstand to the desk in the corner, and still more candles flickered in the attached bathroom, as though they were peering at their own reflections in the mirrors there. Their vanilla scent tickled my nose in a pleasant way. Moonlight beamed in through the open curtains, adding to the soft, muted, romantic atmosphere. So did the silver platter of chocolates and the champagne chilling in a bucket of ice sitting next to the bed. Music hummed in the background, a soft jazz tune.
It took a lot to surprise me, but Owen always managed to do it. He stepped forward out of the shadows along the wall and held out his hand. I took it, enjoying the feel of his warm fingers wrapping around mine, and let him lead me deeper into the room.
I gestured at the candles, chocolates, and champagne. “This is a little more than just dinner and watching TV.”
He grinned and pulled me into his arms, his violet eyes glinting with a mischievous light. “I know, but I wanted to do something special tonight. Just because. Although you can think of it as part of your birthday surprise if you want, even though it’s a few days early.”
I gasped, clutched my hands to my heart, and looked around in mock horror. “Please, please tell me that Finn is not hiding in your walk-in closet, waiting to jump out and scream at me.”
Owen laughed, the deep sound rumbling like thunder out of his chest. “Trust me. Finn isn’t here. Tonight it’s just you and me.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “And that’s just the way I like it.”
“Me too,” he whispered back.
Owen’s lips met mine, and I forgot about everything else except him.
3
We spent a very pleasurable night together, before I left the next morning to go open the Pork Pit for the day’s cooking and customers.
The lunch rush passed by in the usual hurried fashion, and I managed to hold on to my mellow mood all the way until three o’clock, when some idiot tried to crack open my skull with a baseball bat as I was taking out the trash in the alley behind the restaurant. Then again, that was the usual fashion too for my midafternoon trash runs. At least the bags of garbage helped hide all the bodies that I littered the pavement with.
I opened the door and stepped into the back of the Pork Pit. Sophia Deveraux, the head cook, was standing by one of the freezers, tying on a black apron embossed with tiny grinning hot pink skulls. The apron matched the rest of Sophia’s Goth clothes—black boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt with a single large pink skull on it. Bright pink gloss covered her lips, and silver streaks glittered in her black hair. A black ribbon ringed her throat, a pink cameo dangling off the end. The delicate necklace looked a little odd with her T-shirt and skull apron, but I wouldn’t dare tell Sophia that. I had no desire to hurt her feelings or get knocked into next week by her dwarven strength.