Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

enjoyed stalking, terrorizing, and controlling women before he finally raped and ultimately murdered them. He liked their fear, liked the feeling of power it gave him. It was probably the only thing that could get a sick bastard like him off.
    Of course, nothing ever came of any investigation into Slater, thanks to the giant’s working for Mab Monroe. Hell, she probably gave him carte blanche to go out and find himself a certain kind of
distraction
every once in a while. A reward for all the bloody jobs he did on the Fire elemental’s behalf.
    But I had seen a sliver of opportunity in the file, one possible window to get the giant alone tonight—Elliot Slater liked to smoke cigars. A fact I’d witnessed the other night outside of Underwood’s restaurant. Not an unusual habit among the moneyed, muckety-muck types in Ashland.
    But in a crowd like this, lighting up a Cuban would be frowned upon. Trophy wives didn’t like their designer dresses to reek of tobacco. And they’d create enough fuss to make even someone like Slater realize it was better to smoke away from all the silks and satins, if only to keep from listening to their bitching. So if the giant wanted his nicotine fix tonight, Slater would have to seek out a less crowded location to puff away to his heart’s content. And when he did, I’d make my move—
    “Is this seat taken?” a voice rumbled to my right.
    I turned my head and found myself staring into Owen Grayson’s violet eyes. “It is now.”
    Owen tipped his head, settled himself next to me, and ordered a tonic water.
    “No scotch tonight?” I asked.
    The bartender slid his drink over, and Owen rattled the ice cubes in the glass before he took a sip. “I don’t drink when I’m gambling.”
    “Didn’t look like much of a gamble,” I replied. “Since you were up several hundred thousand dollars last time I saw you, and the other players desperately looked like they wanted you to move to another table.”
    Owen grinned. “I should probably mention that I’m excellent at bluffing.”
    “I just bet you are.”
    We sat there in companionable silence for a few moments. Owen leaned back, his gaze slowly tracking up and down my body. Admiring the view. I had to admit the unabashed attention pleased me. Especially when there were so many more attractive women on board. Even assassins had egos.
    “You know,” Owen said in a casual tone. “We’re going to have to stop meeting like this.”
    “Like what?”
    He gestured. “At a bar.”
    This time, I leaned back against said bar and cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem too upset last time we were at a bar together. The other night at Northern Aggression.”
    “That’s because you promised to call me,” Owen replied. “Which you haven’t done yet.”
    I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
    “With what?”
    Across the deck, Elliot Slater raked in a pile of gold chips.
    “This and that.”
    Owen drained the rest of his tonic. “You know, I’m not used to waiting for a woman to call.”
    “Well, then this new experience will be good for your ego,” I replied. “Keep it from getting too inflated. I think we also discussed that last time we met.”
    Owen chuckled, then scooted forward and put his hand on top of mine. It was a light touch, as gentle as a breeze. But to me, the feel of his warm skin on mine whispered of possibilities—and the pleasure that could be found in more full-body contact.
    “What do you say we get out of here, Gin? Go have that dinner you promised me?”
    “Dinner?” I replied.
    “Dinner,” he said, his eyes darkening to a rich, plum color. “And maybe some dessert too. If you’d like.”
    I knew exactly what he meant by
dessert.
My eyes drifted over Owen’s face, down his chest, and over his strong, capable-looking hands. Once again, a hot tingle of desire sizzled to life in the pit of my stomach.
    Donovan Caine wasn’t coming back. The detective had made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t what he wanted. That he valued his precious morals more than what he could have with me. And Owen Grayson was here, ready, willing, and able—and his violet eyes free of the guilt that had always darkened Donovan’s golden ones.
    Owen’s thumb stroked over the back of my hand,another light, delicious touch that made me want to say yes to him, just to see what would happen between us—
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliot Slater get to his feet. He murmured something in Roslyn’s ear, then snapped