Elemental Assassin 04 - Tangled Threads

that.”
    And I would have been holding him, if I’d had my way. But Finn was here now, no doubt to check on me, and I knew that the others would be wondering how I was doing as well. The romantic reunion and thank-you-for-saving-my-life sex would have to wait until later. I sighed and stepped out of Owen’s embrace.
    By this point, most of the pins and needles had vanished from my legs, but I still wasn’t rock steady on my feet, which is why I held on to the polished banister as the three of us went downstairs.
    Since it was Sunday, Jo-Jo’s beauty salon was closed, but that’s still where I found the middle-aged dwarf, painting Natasha’s fingernails a sweet little-girl pink. Vinnie held his daughter on his lap, his hands around herwaist, his head perched on her shoulder, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was back here with him instead of dead and buried. Rosco, Jo-Jo’s basset hound, was snoozing in his basket in the corner as usual, his fat, stubby legs twitching with some sort of dream.
    The three of them looked up at the sight of me standing in the doorway. Vinnie got to his feet and set his daughter back down in the cherry red salon chair. Natasha gave me a tiny smile, then held out her other hand so Jo-Jo could paint the rest of her nails. She seemed to be doing well, all things considered. At least she was safe now and back with her father, where she belonged.
    Vinnie came over and stood in front of me. He looked just as tired as I felt, although his seemed to be more of a happy relief than anything else. The Ice elemental hesitated, then held out his hand. I took it, and we shook. His palm felt cool against mine.
    “Gin, the Spider, whatever you call yourself, anything you ever need, anything I have, it’s yours,” Vinnie said in a low voice. “All you have to do is ask.”
    The bartender didn’t owe me a thing for saving his daughter, not one damn thing. Rescuing the little girl from the horrors and death that had awaited her at the train yard had been my pleasure. But even more than that, I thought that Fletcher Lane, my murdered mentor, would have been proud of me for doing it. The old man had had a bit of an altruistic streak, helping people with certain messy problems. Pro fucking bono, as it were. Of course, I hadn’t known about Fletcher’s side business until after he’d died, but I still thought the old man would have approved of my actions last night.
    “Whatever you want,” Vinnie said again. “It’s yours.”
    I would have told Vinnie that we were square, but I knew his fatherly pride dictated that he find some way to pay me back. And as much as I was starting to enjoy following in Fletcher’s pro bono footsteps, I was never one to turn down a favor.
    “I just might hold you to that.”
    He returned my stare. “I hope you do. I really hope you do.”
    “Daddy?” Natasha said in a soft voice, interrupting us. “Aren’t my nails pretty?”
    The little girl held out her hands for us to inspect. Vinnie gave me another smile, then turned, went back to his daughter, and hugged her close once more.
    “They’re beautiful, honey. Just beautiful,” he whispered against her hair.
    And they were.
    Jo-Jo settled Natasha in the downstairs den with some chocolate chip cookies that I’d baked yesterday at the Pork Pit, a glass of milk, and some old
Scooby Doo
reruns on one of the cable networks. Vinnie sat on the couch with his daughter, giggling right along with her at the slapstick antics on television.
    The rest of us—Jo-Jo, Finn, Owen, and I—retreated to the next room over, the kitchen, which was one of my favorite rooms in the house. A rectangular butcher’s block table surrounded by several tall stools took up most of the area, while appliances done in a variety of pastel shades ringed three of the walls. Runelike clouds, Jo-Jo’s symbol, could be found everywhere in the room, from the placemats on the table to the dish towels piled next to the sink to the fresco that covered the ceiling.
    My eyes went to the cloud-shaped clock on the wall. Just after one in the afternoon, more than twelve hours since I’d taken my swan dive into the Aneirin River. My thoughts turned to all the time I’d lost—and what might have happened while I’d been unconscious.
    “What about the Pork Pit?” I asked Jo-Jo.
    “Sophia’s covering for you,” the dwarf replied, bustling around the kitchen, pulling plates, silverware, and more out of the drawers and cabinets.
    I nodded.