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one clique to the next. A set of glass doors on the left side of the ballroom led out to a terrace. A massive
orchestra had been erected on the right side in front of another set of glass doors. I plastered a smile on
my face and strolled through the ballroom, flitting from one knot of people to the next, until I reached a
quieter space along the underside of the staircase beside a potted bonsai tree with gnarled limbs.
I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and called Finn. He picked up on the third ring.
 I m here, I said.  Where are you?
 I see you, Gin. You look smashing, even for a faux hooker.
 Finn, I growled.
 To answer your question, I m on the second floor, leaning over the railing and surveying the majesty
laid out before me.
My eyes flicked up. Sure enough, Finn was exactly where he said he was. Leaning against the marble
banister, Scotch in one hand, cell phone in the other. Roslyn Phillips stood beside him, wearing a
strapless white evening gown that made her look like a Greek goddess. Mab Monroe had invited the
hooker to the party so Roslyn could keep an eye on her guys and girls and make sure they were properly
servicing the more important guests. And, as part of our plan, Roslyn had brought Finn along as her date
for the evening. Nothing unusual about it, since the two of them were often seen together out on the town.
The grand staircase marched up to the second floor, forming a wide landing, before splitting in two and
winding up either side to the upper floors of the mansion.
Finn had chosen well. His position gave him a view of the entire ballroom below.
 Let s get started, I said.  Before someone decides to proposition me. Where s Dawson?
 He s in the center of the ballroom, about a couple hundred feet behind you on the right. Although I
wouldn t suggest approaching him now, given his current company.
 Current company? What does that mean?
 You ll see. Just keep looking in that direction. Dawson s easy to find. He s the only one wearing a
cowboy hat tonight.
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I peered through the crowd. It took me several seconds to spot Dawson, and Finn was right. He was
the only cowboy in attendance. In addition to the giant hat on his head, the dwarf also wore snakeskin
boots and another lariat tie topped with turquoise. All of which looked ridiculous with his tuxedo. But
Tobias Dawson s fashion sense wasn t what made me frown, then curse. It was the company he was
keeping.
Mab Monroe, Jonah McAllister, and Elliot Slater.
26
 Fuck, I said.
 Fuck is right, he replied.  Because no hooker in her right mind would try to get in the middle of that
sandwich.
My eyes slipped past Dawson and studied the three people he was standing with. Of course, I d met
Jonah McAllister in person yesterday, when he d come to the Pork Pit to threaten me into dropping the
charges against his son, Jake. The slick-talking lawyer looked distinguished and handsome in his tuxedo,
and his thick mane of hair resembled silver that had somehow been swirled around his head.
I hadn t had any dealings with Elliot Slater, the giant enforcer who ran Mab s security detail and took
care of any problems the Fire elemental didn t feel like dealing with herself. Slater was one of the tallest
giants in attendance, if not the tallest. His seven-foot figure loomed over the crowd. He wasn t quite as
wide as he was tall, but his frame was all solid, compact muscle. A cut with one of my knives would have
felt like a bee sting to him.
Slater s complexion was pale, almost albino, and his tousled thatch of blond hair disappeared into his
large skull. His eyes were a light hazel, and the only real color on his chalky face. A large diamond ring
flashed on his pinkie. Another inch or two, and I could have worn it as a bracelet.
And then there was Mab Monroe herself. The Fire elemental was a few inches shorter than me, but she
radiated raw power, even more so than Elliot Slater did. Her hair was as red as polished copper and
curled softly to her shoulders. In contrast, her eyes were a deep, liquid black. Ink would look dull and
diluted next to her gaze.
Fire and brimstone. That s what Mab Monroe always reminded me of.
The Fire elemental wore a floor-length evening gown done in an emerald green that made her hair seem
even redder than it actually was. She wore no jewelry except for a flat gold necklace that ringed her
throat. My eyes focused on the centerpiece of the design. A circular orange ruby a little smaller than my [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]