Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

his fingers. The two giants that had been hovering around the blackjack table moved closer to Roslyn, ordered to watch her instead of Slater. The giant traced a finger down the side of Roslyn’s cheek. The vamp attempted to smile through the touch, but it came off as more of a grimace. Slater didn’t seem to notice, though. He pulled a heavy silver case out from inside his jacket, opened it, and plucked out a long, fat cigar.
    My window of opportunity had just opened. I wouldn’t get a better chance than this all evening. I might not get another chance all evening.
    Owen’s thumb kept up its long, sure strokes, a promise of what could come later with other, more interesting parts of his anatomy. My pleasure or Roslyn’s pain. No choice, really.
    I smiled at Owen, pulled my hand away from his, and got to my feet. “Hold that thought. I see someone I just have to speak to. Please excuse me for a few minutes.”
    Surprise flashed in his eyes, and Owen opened his mouth, probably to ask what I thought I was doing turning down his open invitation yet again. I wasn’t sure I knew myself.
    I might even have been sorry if I hadn’t already turned and walked away.

16

    I kept to the perimeter of the deck, drawing as little attention to myself as possible as I headed after Elliot Slater. By this point, the benefit was in full swing, with at least three hundred people milling about in the open air, playing poker, pulling the slot machines, and drinking themselves into a fevered tizzy. More than enough traffic and noise to conceal my movements to all but the most devoted observer.
    The key to making it look like you’re not following someone is to pretend like he doesn’t even exist. That the two of you are just out for a stroll, coincidentally in the same direction with the same destination in mind. So I walked along at a sedate pace, smiling at the men and women who wandered past me. I even paused a few seconds and pretended to be interested in the outcome of a baccarat game.
    Finn had seen Slater get up, and he spotted me movingthrough the crowd after the giant. Finn nodded at me, encouraging me to keep going. I nodded back. I had no intention of stopping until the giant was dead and feeding the catfish in the Aneirin River.
    Thirty feet ahead of me, Elliot Slater rounded the corner of the deck and disappeared from view. I watched the end of another baccarat game, waited a few more seconds, then followed him.
    Around the corner, the wide deck narrowed to a long walkway that ran the length of the entire riverboat. This side of the boat faced into the Aneirin River, and a few couples had slipped away from the rest of the maddening crowd to take in the view and murmur hot suggestions into each other’s ears. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on my prey.
    Ahead of me, Slater continued to walk at a casual pace that suggested he was out for a smoke and a stroll and nothing else. He broke free of the last remaining couple and stepped through an open door. It was quieter here, and I took care to put my heels down as softly as I could on the wooden deck. I eased up to the door and peered inside.
    This part of the walkway had been enclosed in glass, probably so folks could still see the river and stay dry during a rainstorm. The walkway fronted a small, recessed salon complete with tables, chairs, and a bar inside the riverboat itself where passengers could relax and watch the landscape go by during cruises. The glassed-in section ran for about thirty feet before opening back up into the night air.
    Slater had walked through the entire room and nowstood beyond the other open door. The giant shook a lighter in his hand, as though it was low on fluid and he was trying to coax one more burst of flame out of it. There was no one here but the two of us this far back on the riverboat. Perfect.
    I walked forward. I made it through the glassed-in salon and stepped back out into the night air. Ahead of me, Slater still fussed with his lighter. I put my arm down, ready to palm one of my silverstone knives.
    Just then, a restroom door opened to my left, and a man stepped out onto the deck ahead of me—putting him between me and Elliot Slater. The man turned in my direction, as though to walk back down to the open deck. Silver hair, hard hazel eyes, wrinkle-free face. He spotted me immediately, and his eyes widened for a second before narrowing.
    Jonah McAllister looked just as pissed to see me as I was to see him.
    “What the hell are