Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

him myself back during my foolish teenage years. With his green eyes, solid figure, and devilish smile, Finn had seduced far more frosty and intimidating women than Detective Bria Coolidge.
    But Finn and Bria? That was another complication I didn’t need right now.
    “There’s not much to tell, detective,” I said, interrupting their heated staring contest. “Like I told you before, I fell down.”
    Bria looked at me. Her mouth flattened into a hard line. “You fell down? Original.”
    I gave her a bland smile. Now was not the time to be a smart-ass. Smart-asses were memorable for any number of reasons, and right now, I needed her to forget all about me. At least until after I’d killed Elliot Slater.
    Bria kept staring at me, her gaze sweeping over myfeatures and down what she could see of my body—mainly, my grease-stained blue apron and long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Well, you seem to have healed nicely. Looks like your brother here did in fact get you to that Air elemental healer and the best medical treatment in Ashland.”
    “I always keep my promises,” Finn replied in a mild tone.
    Bria raised an eyebrow but didn’t rise to his baiting. “Your foster brother seems to care quite a bit about you, Ms. Blanco.”
    “Foster brother?” I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.
    “He is your foster brother, isn’t he?” Bria asked. “The son of Fletcher Lane, the man who adopted you as a child? The man who left you his barbecue restaurant to run?”
    “You’ve been checking up on me, detective.”
    Bria stared at me. “Just doing my job, Ms. Blanco. Just doing my job. Which is why I want to ask you some questions about your attack at the community college the other night.”
    I gritted my teeth, my admiration for Bria’s tenacity warring with my own frustration. Now was not the time for her to be darkening my doorstep asking questions that I wasn’t going to answer—ever.
    “There’s nothing to report. I fell down. End of story. Can I offer you a piece of cake before you go, detective?”
    Since I wasn’t giving up any information, Bria decided to switch tactics.
    “Are you afraid of someone?” she asked in a softer tone. “Would it help if we spoke privately, Ms. Blanco?”
    I looked at her. “The only person I’m afraid of is mycook, Detective Coolidge. And that’s only because she puts too much salt in her macaroni salad. I told you before, and I’m telling you again. I fell down that night at the community college—repeatedly. Now, why don’t you go out there on the mean streets of Ashland and help someone who really needs it? Because I’m doing just fine.”
    My tone was harsher than I would have liked it to be for my first real face-to-face meeting with the sister I hadn’t seen in seventeen years. But she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, any more than I would have in her situation. This was the way it had to be right now. I hated to be rude to my own sister, but I had things I needed to do if I had any chance of taking care of Elliot Slater tonight. The sooner I killed the giant, the sooner I could move on to other things—like figuring out how Bria fit into my life and if I could ever really be a part of hers.
    “Is it your foster brother?” Bria asked, turning her cold gaze to Finn. “Is he the one who beat you? The one you’re afraid of?”
    I laughed. “Finn? Beat me? Hardly. He’d stab himself in the eye before he ever laid a hand on me.”
    Finn gave Bria another charming smile. “I’m thoughtful that way, detective.”
    She stared at him another moment. Her eyes flicked to me, then to Roslyn Phillips. The vamp huddled in a booth in the back of the restaurant, pretending to be interested in her cake. Roslyn was a better actress than I’d thought. I might have believed my chocolate-chip pound cake was the best she’d ever had, if I hadn’t known she was merely picking at it while listening to our every word.
    “You know, a lot of people in Ashland don’t seem toremember things that happened to them,” Bria said. “Beatings, assaults, intimidations.”
    “Must be something in the water,” I said in a dry tone. “Some chemical that promotes memory loss.”
    Bria looked at me, and I gave her a level gaze. She returned the stare. Blue eyes on gray. Both as cold and unyielding as they could be.
    “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll take your kind suggestion and go help someone who might actually appreciate it.”