Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite

had been dead already. Darker, lower, somber. Like the stones at the Pork Pit. A sound I’d never, ever forget.
    Fletcher.
    I pushed all thought of my mentor, all weak, devastating emotion aside, and focused on the man in front of me. On what I was here to do. I stopped about three feet away from the guard, struck a model pose, dropped my head, batted my lashes, and gave him my most flirtatious look. If there was one thing all southern women instinctively know how to do, it’s flirt. It’s encoded in our DNA, along with a fondness for grease, sugar, and oversize hats.
    “Hi there, handsome,” I said in a soft, breathy voice. “I’m Candy. I’m here to see Finny.”
    “Mr. Lane is otherwise engaged this evening. Important meeting.” The guard’s tone was gruff, but his pale eyes scorched a path from my breasts down my legs and back up.
    I giggled. “Yeah, with me, silly.”
    The guard let himself look a second longer, then shook his head. “Sorry. This is another meeting. You’re going to have to leave.”
    I pouted. “But Finny and I always have a date on Sunday nights. I’m his after-hours girl.”
    The guard didn’t say anything, but his gaze kept flicking between my breasts and legs. If he did that any faster, he’d give himself vertigo. I pouted a moment longer, then widened my gray eyes and smiled, as though the most amazing thought in the world had just occurred to me.
    I stepped forward. The guard stiffened, but he didn’t back away. I looked at him through my lashes and trailed my fingers down his broad chest. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath his blue pinstriped shirt. No vest, no protective gear. Bad for him, good for me.
    “Well, what about you, sugar? Can I interest you in sampling some sweet, sweet Candy tonight? A girl’s gotta pay her rent, if you know what I mean.”
    The guard opened his mouth, but he never got a chance to respond. Because I brought my right hand up and shoved the knife I had palmed there into his chest. His eyes bulged with surprise. I clamped my hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, wrenched the knife out, and stabbed him again.
    The guard should have shot me the second I stepped out of the elevator. Never mind the mistake of letting me within arm’s reach. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. But a pretty girl is a pretty girl, and men always want to look at and talk to and fuck those. Even if his boss had warned him to watch out for any woman who came near him tonight.
    The guard’s eyes glazed over, and he quit struggling. I eased his large, heavy body to the floor and retrieved my knife. I also rifled through his pockets, pulling out his wallet and cell phone, and putting them on the walnut table for pickup later. He wasn’t wearing any jewelry, not even a watch.
    Underneath my feet, the light, dainty murmur of the marble floor took on a harsher note as puddles of blood sluiced on top of it. Another sound I was familiar with.
    Once I had the guard taken care of, I turned my attention to the apartment door. Since the walls themselves were constructed of metal and wood instead of stone, I couldn’t use my elemental magic to sense what waited behind the barrier. But I wasn’t leaving without discovering what was happening, or had happened, to Finn. I’d just have to take my chances.
    I turned the knob and opened the door a crack. Voices drifted out to me, faint, low, indistinct murmurs. They must be in the living room.
    I slid inside the door and paused. Finn’s apartment was shaped like a large F. The elevator led to the narrow antechamber, which in turn led to the hallway where I stood. The hall flowed all the way to the back of the apartment before taking a right turn and opening up into a wide living room. The master bedroom and bath were located at the far end of the living room. Halfway between here and there was another right turn, which led into the kitchen.
    I tiptoed forward, knives in both hands now, and eased into the kitchen. Appliances, marble countertops, a couple of sinks. I passed them all, hugging the wall and moving farther into the room.
    I paused when I came to the cutout that connected the kitchen to the living room. A mirror glinted on the back wall of the other room. The pane of glass gave me a clear, if backwards reflection of that area.
    They had him tied to a straight-backed chair. Finnegan Lane was very much his father’s son, with ruddy skin, a thick, muscular body, and dark, walnut-colored hair. Sturdy Scots-Irish