Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite

doesn’t want to see this information. At least not yet. Not until she’s finalized her coup de grâce.”
    “Mab Monroe,” I said, picking up on his train of thought.
    Finn nodded. “Mab Monroe.”
    “I still don’t understand how that helps us,” Donovan said.
    “Blackmail,” I replied. “We threaten to turn the information over to Mab unless Alexis James backs off and stops trying to kill us.”
    “We can also get her to withdraw the reward money on you and convince Wayne Stephenson to take an early retirement,” Finn said. “You have to admit, it’s neat, all the way around.”
    He grinned, extremely pleased with himself. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t disagree with him. Finn had occasional flashes of brilliance and coming up with this kind of compromise was one of them.
    “Alexis James is still going to die for what she did to my handler. There will be no argument about that. No threats and no hunting me down after the fact,” I said. “Can you live with that, detective? If so, I can live with the rest of what Finn’s proposing. The bounty on me goes away, you bounce Stephenson out of the department, and we all get on with our lives.”
    Donovan Caine’s hazel gaze darkened, and he stared into my gray eyes. After a moment, he nodded his head. “I can live with that. The question is how are we going to do it?”
    “Easy,” Finn said. “We sidle up to Alexis in a public place, drop the bomb on her, and wait for her to give in to our demands.”
    I shook my head. “Not Alexis, Haley. We go through Haley James.”
    Donovan frowned. “Why?”
    “Because if she is involved, I get to add her to my list of things to do,” I said. “And if she’s not, well, she can start ducking for cover. That’s what you let innocent people do, right?”
    The detective didn’t answer.
    “So now all we have to do is find out where the sisters are going to be,” Finn said.
    “One step ahead of you.” I pulled out my cell phone and hit another one of the speed dial numbers.
    The phone rang four times before she picked it up.
    “Do y’all know what time it is?” Jo-Jo Deveraux muttered in my ear, although her slow, syrupy drawl took some of the bite out of her words.
    I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s Gin, and it’s 3:07. I need some information and possibly a couple of invitations. Think you can handle it?”
    Jo-Jo laughed. “For you, darling? Anything.” 

24
    At four o’clock the next afternoon, I found myself in the elegant confines of Five Oaks, the snobbiest, most exclusive, and most highfalutin country club in Ashland.
    Jo-Jo Deveraux had called earlier in the day with the info I’d needed—the next event on the James sisters’ social calendar. Haley and Alexis, along with five hundred other invited guests, were due to attend an afternoon fund-raiser for a battered-women’s shelter that was being held at the country club. Jo-Jo had pulled a few of her drama mama strings and managed to secure invitations for Donovan Caine and me. Finn had already been invited, given the fact he moved money around for most of those in attendance.
    Now I stood in the club’s spacious main ballroom, watching the flow of people and waiting for the James sisters to arrive. Five Oaks was a massive complex of five circular buildings, and the ballroom was in keeping with the grand scale of things. The round room itself was several thousand feet wide and soared four stories into the air. A glass dome formed the ceiling, letting natural light stream down onto the club’s members. Multiple sets of stairs led up to the upper levels, each of which featured a balcony that ringed the entire ballroom.
    Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined the curve of the back wall, along with two large doors that led out onto a wide stone patio. The impressive view showed off the club’s smaller outbuildings, a series of acorn-shaped pools, tennis courts, and the smooth, green expanse, beige sand traps, and tall, colorful flags of the golf course.
    People, clustered in small groups, talked, laughed, and sipped mint juleps on the main floor. Some had wandered up to have more private conversations on the second floor balcony. Others had taken their drinks and planted themselves at tables covered with pale peach linens. The country club’s rune—an acorn—was stitched in gold thread in the center of each tablecloth. The event was going to feature a sit-down dinner later, but the booze and bullshit were already