In that instant, everything that I’d ever felt for Sebastian Vaughn burned to ash. Every soft thought, every kind word, every silly, secret hope and hazy, wishful dream. Gone. Incinerated. Obliterated. But in their places rose one thing, stronger than all that I’d felt for him before: a cold, vicious, unending desire to kill him for every low-down, dirty, rotten thing he’d done.

To me, to his father, and especially to Charlotte.

“Well, if you think that you can manage to take care of this girl and her family, we can move ahead with our plans,” Mab said. “How soon can you handle the first shipment?”

“As soon as you give it to me,” Sebastian said. “Vaughn Construction has several ongoing projects up and down the East Coast. I’ll be happy to include your packages with the building materials that we ship out. That should make it easier to get your drugs into new markets.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re so much more amenable to the idea than your father was.”

So that’s what this was about. Cesar hadn’t wanted to help Mab move her drugs, but Sebastian had wanted to be a king instead of a prince, just like Finn had said, and he’d seen his father’s reluctance as a golden opportunity. So he’d made a deal to help Mab with her drugs and bump off his father at the same time. I wondered what Sebastian had planned for me—and for Charlotte.

Sebastian hesitated. “Along with the girl, there might be one more loose end, a detective named Harry Coolidge.”

“How so?”

“Right before the assassin killed my father, Coolidge gave him a file. I found it in his office safe after I paid off the cops to let me go through his papers instead of bagging them up as evidence. It seems as if my father had Coolidge independently investigating the terrace collapse.”

So that was what had been in that file, some sort of proof of Sebastian’s involvement. Sebastian must have thought it was his lucky day when he found the file in his father’s safe after I killed Cesar.

“What did he find, and how bad is it?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Nothing that I couldn’t explain away, but Coolidge is persistent. Worse than a dog with a bone. Plus, he’s never liked me. He already thinks that I had something to do with my father’s death. He intimated as much at the party tonight.”

“Well, then, perhaps you should get your waitress assassin to get rid of him before you kill her,” Mab suggested. “Instead of hiring another hit man and making more of a mess of things than you already have.”

Sebastian waved his hand. “I’m not worried about Coolidge. He’s more hot air than anything else. If he becomes a nuisance, I’ll bury him myself. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to it.”

“I thought that I made this clear months ago when you first approached me with your grand scheme, but let me repeat myself,” Mab said, her voice growing colder and sharper with every word. “Should you start becoming a problem, then I’ll do the same thing to you that you did to your dearly departed father. Only I won’t bother using an assassin. Are we clear?”

The snifter in her hand erupted into flames, punctuating her words, and the harsh scent of brandy filled the library before quickly burning away. Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from throwing his hand up and taking several steps back. He was afraid of her. He should be.

But not as afraid as he should be of me.

Mab kept her eyes on Sebastian, even as the glass in her hand began to bubble and melt and finally dripped through her fingers like molten lava. And when it was done, when the glass was gone and her point had been made, she brushed the last drops of molten glass off her hands and released her hold on her magic. The flames snuffed out on her fingertips, although the stench of smoke remained behind.

“I trust that’s the only demonstration that I’ll ever need to give you,” Mab said.

Sebastian tried to give her a confident look, as though he weren’t about to wet his pants, but the brandy snifter in his own hand trembled, sloshing around the liquid and spoiling his façade. “It won’t come to that. I can handle Coolidge and everything else.”

“Good. Because you don’t want to disappoint me.”

Mab patted Sebastian’s cheek, her hot hand leaving a faint red welt on his skin. I hoped she would burn off his smug face, but instead, she dropped her hand before turning and gliding away.

Leaving—she was leaving.

I ducked back behind the fireplace, scurrying deeper into this part of the library, and crouched down behind a wingback chair just as Mab stepped into view again. The Fire elemental started toward the door but then paused and glanced over her shoulder, her black eyes flicking over the bookcases and the shadows they cast out.

The lights were turned down low in this part of the library, but I still froze, not even daring to breathe, because if she saw me, I was dead. Mab would realize that every word Sebastian had said about me being an assassin was true, and she’d kill me on the spot—before going after Finn and Fletcher.

But apparently, the Fire elemental had bigger fish to fry, because after a few more heart-stopping seconds, she turned and left the library.

I let out a soft sigh of relief that she hadn’t spotted me—

“Where are your men at?” I heard Sebastian snap. “I want everything wrapped up tonight.”

I waited a minute to make sure that Mab wasn’t coming back, then left my hiding place and eased back over to the fireplace, peering around it once again. Sebastian was still standing in front of his father’s desk, talking to Porter now.

“I spoke to them right before Mab arrived,” Porter replied. “They’re getting ready to leave as we speak. Three of my guys will go over to the son’s place. Three more of my men will head over to the house that the girl lives in with the father. Clever of you to send that car to pick her up so you could get the address. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of them all tonight.”

Sebastian nodded. “Good. And Gin?”

“Still passed out on your bed the last time I looked.” Porter paused. “You sure you want to get rid of her tonight? She might be fun to have around for a few days.”

The way he said “fun” made my skin crawl.

Sebastian snorted. “Not that much fun. Trust me.”

I trembled with fury. I wanted nothing more than to run into the room, raise my knife high, and ram it into Sebastian’s black, deceitful heart over and over again. But my body still felt weak, wobbly, and slow from whatever drug he’d given me—too weak, too wobbly, and too slow to take on Sebastian, not to mention Porter, who could easily beat me to death with his fists.

Besides, I had Finn and Fletcher to think about. I had to warn them that Sebastian was sending his giants after them. So I whirled around, ready to slip out of the library and make my escape, but I moved too fast, making my head spin. I teetered in my heels and stumbled into one of the tables inside the open doors, knocking off a model of a skyscraper. The stone miniature clattered against the floor. I bit back a curse, but the damage was already done.

“What the hell was that?” Sebastian snapped.

Before I could move, before I could react, he and Porter came rushing into my part of the library. Sebastian and I stared at each other for a heartbeat, then I turned toward the open doors and started to run.

23

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Porter managed to yank his gun out from underneath his tuxedo jacket before I made it out of the library. But his aim was lousy, and the bullets thunk-thunk-thunked into the wall beside me instead of punching into my back.

“Get that bitch!” Sebastian screamed.

So much for my sweet, kind, devoted boyfriend. He’d finally shown his true colors, and I was going to kill him for it.

But first, I had to escape.

I ran through the mansion as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast, given my high heels. But I had no one to blame for this situation but myself. If only I hadn’t been so blind, so naive, so f**king eager to believe all the lame lines that Sebastian had fed me. Finn had said that Sebastian was trying too hard, and he’d been right.

Finn. My heart twisted at the thought of him and Fletcher too, both in danger because of me, because I’d been stupid enough to fall for Sebastian and all his smooth, pretty lies. I had to find a way to warn them, save them.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

More bullets zipped down the hallway, one shattering a mirror as I ran by it. Yes, I had to get to Finn and Fletcher—but first, I had to save myself.

I kept running until I spotted a set of stairs. I veered in that direction, raced down them to the ground floor, and shoved through the first door I came to. I ended up on the south lawn, well away from the driveway and the front gate. Frustration surged through me. Not the way that I’d wanted to come, but I had no choice now but to go forward.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Porter burst through the door. His first spray of bullets went wild, but the giant paused and took aim at me again.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

This time, the bullets kicked up tufts of grass at my feet, much closer to hitting the mark, forcing me to run again.

The tennis courts, the swimming pool, the hot tub. I passed all those and more, keeping away from the outdoor lights as much as I could.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

More bullets, so close that I felt the heat of them zing past my legs this time. I wasn’t going to be able to outrun Porter, not with the drug in my veins still slowing me down, so I started looking for a place to hide. He might have a gun, but I still had my knife. All I had to do was let him run past me, and then I could come up from behind and stab him in the back. Problem solved. Now I just needed to find a place to make it happen.

As if in answer to my need, a building loomed up out of the darkness, lights burning on the outside of the structure.

Cesar Vaughn’s mausoleum.

My steps faltered, my heel caught on a rock, and I almost did a header onto the dewy grass. But there was no going back, only away from Porter, his bullets, and whatever other evil things Sebastian might have in mind for me. Torture, most likely. Charlotte had said that he enjoyed hurting people.

My heart squeezed again at the thought of her, of what she must have suffered at her brother’s hands, and especially how I’d taken her father away from her.

But I could have regrets later—if I lived that long.

So I raced through the open doorway and ducked into the mausoleum, stopping inside the entrance. Then I raised the knife that I was still clutching and waited—just waited for him to come inside. No doubt, Porter thought that I would keep right on running through the building and out the opening on the back side, but that wasn’t who I was. Besides, maybe if I captured him, I could force him to call off the giants he’d sicced on Finn and Fletcher—before I slit his throat.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

More bullets pinged off the doorway as Porter neared the mausoleum. The giant stopped to reload his weapon, so I risked a quick glance around.

A light burned in the center of the ceiling, casting a dim golden glow. The structure was smaller than I thought it would be and shaped like a rotunda. Crystal vases full of those dark blue roses perched on shelves that had been carved into the gray marble walls, and four stone tombs stood in the center of the area. Two of the tombs had words carved into the tops of them, including the one closest to me, which read: Cesar Vaughn, Beloved Father and Husband.

I grimaced and turned my attention back to my attacker. Porter finished reloading his weapon and started to run toward the entrance, but Sebastian had finally caught up with us. He held his hand out in front of the giant.

“Stop,” Sebastian said. “I didn’t see her run out the other side. Unless I’m mistaken, Gin is lying in wait for us in there.”

He stepped forward so that he was standing about twenty feet from the mausoleum entrance, bathed in the golden glow from the lights that blazed on the outside of the structure. If I thought that I could hit him with my knife from here, I would have thrown it at him, but my arms felt as wobbly as my legs. Besides, the blade was my only weapon, and I wasn’t wasting it like that. No, the only thing I wanted to do with my knife was bury it in Sebastian’s black heart.

“Gin, Gin, Gin,” Sebastian called out in a mocking voice. “You really should have stayed in bed. You wouldn’t have known what hit you. Now I’m afraid that you’re going to have to suffer.”

“Really?” I called out. “I think that I’ve suffered enough already, letting you put your hands on me, you sick, slimy bastard.”

He laughed, apparently delighted by my answer. “From what I saw, it seems you were eavesdropping on me and Mab in the library. That seems to be a bad habit of yours. But I take it that you heard what I said to her?”

“Every last word.”

“Well, then, there’s no need for us to lie to each other any longer, now, is there?” He practically purred. “You know who I am, and I know who you are too.”

“I’m not who you think I am. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not some assassin. I’m just a waitress.”

Yeah, it was a weak denial at best, but if I died here tonight, I at least wanted to give Finn and Fletcher some plausible deniability, even if Sebastian was sending his giants after them.

He laughed again, even more amused than before. “Maybe you can sell that line to someone else but not to me. I’m a much better liar than you are, Gin. Although I can’t figure out if you actually killed my father yourself or stood by and watched while your foster father or brother did it. I suppose that any one of you could be the assassin. Care to tell me who it is? Hmm? I’m just dying to know.” He laughed again at his stupid joke.