A pleased, pink blush swept across Mallory’s pale cheeks. She curled her hand into his, and the massive diamond ring on her finger sparkled like a star. The two elderly dwarves stared into each other’s eyes, completely focused on the love they saw reflected in each other’s soft, adoring gaze.

  They were a striking, distinguished couple. With her teased, cloudlike coif of snow-white hair, powder-blue cocktail dress, and perfect posture, Mallory looked as regal as a queen. Mosley’s wavy silver hair was expertly cut and styled, and his navy suit was impeccable, although his hooked, slightly crooked nose made him look more like a retired boxer than the president of First Trust bank and one of the most powerful businessmen in Ashland.

  I cleared my throat, interrupting their lovey-dovey staring contest. “So, if you’re not going through the whole shebang again, then what are you doing?”

  Mallory pulled her gaze away from Mosley and focused on me again. “We’re simply hosting a second reception, because…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you know what happened at our first wedding reception.”

  Everyone in Ashland knew what had happened at Mallory and Mosley’s reception, which had been the grand finale to their Valentine’s Day wedding last month. For the most part, things had gone off without a hitch. The actual wedding ceremony had been a beautiful affair, held in a ballroom at the Five Oaks Country Club and attended by friends and family from both near and far. The following reception had featured scrumptious food, lovely decorations, and upbeat music, and everyone had been talking, laughing, dancing, and having a terrific time.

  Until Emery Slater had crashed the party.

  The female giant had stormed into the ballroom and taken everyone hostage. Emery and her fellow giants had threatened to start shooting people unless Gin Blanco, the assassin known as the Spider, had agreed to leave with them. And in true Gin-being-Gin fashion, she had sacrificed herself and gone with the giants to protect the innocent guests, who had included her own friends and family.

  “I told you that asking Gin to be a bridesmaid was risky,” I said. “Especially since she was hot on the trail of Mason Mitchell at the time.”

  Mason Mitchell was a Stone elemental and the longtime leader of the Circle, a secret society that had been behind much of the crime and corruption in Ashland for decades. Mason was also Gin’s uncle and the man who was ultimately responsible for the deaths of her parents years ago.

  “We had to ask Gin to be in our wedding,” Mosley replied. “We all love her, and none of us would be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for her.”

  True. Gin had saved my life when Renaldo Pike, my abusive father, had tried to kill me when I was a teenager, and she’d protected both me and Mallory from Raymond Pike, my half brother, when he’d come to Ashland to try to murder me several months ago. More recently, Gin had saved Mosley from Alanna Eaton, a cannibalistic vampire who’d wanted to kill the dwarf in order to regain control of the Eaton Estate, her childhood home.

  “Besides, it’s not Gin’s fault that Mason Mitchell told Emery Slater and all those other giants to crash our reception,” Mallory chimed in. “And Gin got the best of Mason in the end, just like she always does.”

  Yes, she had. A couple of weeks ago, Gin had turned the tables and crashed a fancy gala that Mason had thrown to celebrate the Mitchell Mile, a massive construction project that would have completely destroyed the old-timey charm of downtown Ashland. I’d fought alongside Gin that night, along with several of our mutual friends, as we’d all battled Emery and her giant goons. Eventually, Gin had faced Mason herself, and she’d finally found a way to kill him, despite his extremely powerful Stone magic.

  The Spider always bested her enemies, but just thinking about how close we’d all come to dying that night still made me shiver. In an instant, the restaurant vanished, and I was staring up at the Mitchell family mansion, watching Mason use his incredible magic to rip one balcony after another off the house and toss the massive chunks of stone through the air like they were as light as marbles…

  “More water?” A polite voice interrupted my dark memories.

  I forced myself to smile at the waiter hovering beside my elbow. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  The waiter poured some more water for me and topped off Mallory’s and Mosley’s ginger ales. He also took our food orders, then retreated.

  The three of us were dining at Underwood’s, the fanciest and most expensive restaurant in the city. Everything about the restaurant was subtle and subdued and whispered of money, from the crisp white linens to the gleaming flatware to the sparkling crystal water goblets. It was just after seven o’clock, so the dinner rush was in full swing. Every table was full, and folks were also crowded along the wooden bar that ran the length of the dining room.

  I’d made a reservation and slipped the maître d’ enough cash to get us seated next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an impressive view of downtown Ashland. The Aneirin River glimmered like liquid silver as it curled past the various buildings, while the full moon and twinkling stars gilded the streets in a clean, pearly sheen. In the distance, the bright lights of the Delta Queen riverboat casino gently bobbed up and down on the water, like a cluster of fireflies continuously dancing through the air.

  I admired the beautiful vista a moment longer, then turned my attention back to Mallory and Mosley. “So, you’re basically planning a do-over for your wedding reception since the first one got ruined.”

  Mallory nodded. “That’s right, pumpkin. And don’t worry. We’ve already got everything booked. All you have to do is show up.”

  I shot a disbelieving look at Mosley, who held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Don’t look at me. This was all your grandmother’s idea,” he replied.

  I sighed, knowing that I had no choice but to give in. Despite the fact she was more than three hundred years old, and my great-grandmother many times over, Mallory Parker was still a force to be reckoned with. “What do you have in mind?”

  She grinned. “Just a small, little party at the Rhododendron Inn. Nothing too big or fancy.”

  I snorted. Big and fancy perfectly described the Rhododendron Inn, a luxury resort that catered to Ashland’s wealthiest citizens, along with tourists who could afford to pay the resort’s sky-high prices. Given its location atop a nearby mountain, the inn was especially popular during the fall leaf-peeping season, as well as the winter months when its ski slopes were open. Even though it was nearing the end of March, the weather had turned cold again, and we’d had a significant snow a couple of days ago, with more expected later this week, which meant that skiers, snowboarders, and sledders were still flocking to the resort.

  “Tell me what you have planned,” I said.

  Mallory grinned again, then launched into detailed descriptions of everything from the flowers to the food to the decor.

  “When did you have time to put this together?” I asked. “You’ve been on your honeymoon for the last few weeks.”

  Mallory waved her hand, making her diamond ring sparkle again. “Oh, I asked Roslyn to help me with a few things, since she did such a great job stepping in with the wedding at the last minute. Don’t worry, pumpkin. Everything’s done, so you won’t have to lift a finger.”

  Roslyn Phillips was the vampire owner of the Northern Aggression nightclub and another one of our friends. She’d finished planning Mallory and Mosley’s wedding after the original coordinator had gotten sick.

  “We’re not calling it a reception, though,” Mosley said. “More like a welcome-home party to celebrate the start of our new lives together.”

  He smiled at Mallory, who beamed at him again. The two of them were so obviously, completely, truly in love that my own chest tightened with equal parts happiness and sadness. I was thrilled that Mallory had found someone who cared as much about her as she did about him, but I was also a little jealous that I didn’t have someone similar in my own life. Hence the odd, uncomfortable mixture of pleasure and pain zinging through my body. Heart stings, my mother used to call such disparate feelings.

  Thinking about my mother, Lily Rose Pike, made another heart sting zing through my chest, and I resisted the urge to rub the throbbing sensation away. My father had been a mean, sadistic bastard who had abused my mother and me for years before he’d finally beaten her to death right in front of me. Renaldo would have murdered me too, if not for Fletcher Lane, the assassin known as the Tin Man.

  Fletcher had rescued and then hidden me in a safe house, which was where I’d first met Gin, who had been his apprentice at the time. But my father and brother had quickly found the safe house, and they would have killed me, if not for Gin. Even as a teenager, she’d put herself in danger to protect me. That was one of the many reasons I’d fought alongside her over the past several months while she’d been unraveling the Circle conspiracy.

  Remembering how Gin had saved me all those years ago made another thought pop into my mind. “Wait a second. When exactly is this not-big-and-fancy party of yours?”

  Mallory winced, as though she’d just been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “This coming weekend.”

  “This weekend? As in when Gin will still be out of town with Owen, Finn, and Bria?”

  Gin was taking a much-needed vacation, along with Owen Grayson, her significant other; Finnegan Lane, her foster brother; and Detective Bria Coolidge, her biological sister. I applauded Gin for scheduling some time off. If anyone could use a break from all the crime and corruption in the city, it was the Spider.

  Not only was she an assassin with a list of enemies a mile long, but now that Mason Mitchell was dead, Gin was also the official queen of the Ashland underworld, and thus responsible for settling disputes between the various crime bosses, most of whom were about as mature as two-year-old toddlers throwing temper tantrums.

  “Well, the four of them were at the original reception,” Mallory replied in a defensive tone. “I didn’t think they would mind if we had a little party while they were gone.”

  I snorted again. “You mean you didn’t want to risk another one of Gin’s enemies crashing this new party and ruining it like Emery Slater did the first one.”

  Mallory winced again. “Okay, fine, pumpkin. You caught me. Yes, I decided to hold the party this weekend while Gin is gone. I thought her not being there might lessen the risk of something bad happening.”

  It was a fair point. Trouble followed Gin Blanco around like a wolf stalking a deer through the forest.

  The waiter returned with our food. Filet mignon with a balsamic fig reduction and garlic mashed potatoes for Mallory, fried chicken with buttermilk biscuits and black-pepper gravy for Mosley, and a chopped salad with a side of pimento-cheese toast for me.

  Underwood’s might charge an exorbitant amount, but the food was definitely worth it. My salad had the perfect mix of crispy romaine hearts, ripe cherry tomatoes, crunchy matchstick carrots, and cool cucumbers, along with warm lime-zest grilled chicken, gorgonzola cheese crumbles, and a honey-mustard vinaigrette that was delicious enough to drink all by itself. The thick slices of Texas-style toast were golden brown, and each one was slathered with a generous layer of rich, creamy pimento cheese with a spicy jalapeño kick.

  Thirty minutes later, I popped the last bite of cheese toast into my mouth, sat back, and sighed with happiness. “Don’t tell Gin, but this meal is just as good as her barbecue. Maybe even better.”

  Mosley chuckled. “Only if you don’t tell her that Underwood’s biscuits are just as light and fluffy as hers always are.”

  I grinned back at him. “Deal.”

  Even though we were all stuffed, we still ordered dessert. Mallory and Mosley split a piece of chocolate cheesecake drizzled with a warm cherry sauce, while I inhaled a vanilla-bean pudding topped with a mixed-berry compote and dusted with crumbled shortbread cookies.

  I was relaxing and enjoying my post-dessert sugar rush when Mallory perked up in her seat.

  “Well, well, well,” she purred. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  My gaze flicked from one face to another. Businesspeople, society folks, a few crime bosses. I recognized many of the other diners, but I didn’t see anyone who would make Mallory sit up and take notice like that—

  Hugh Tucker strolled over to the bar.

  My entire body tensed, and another one of those damned heart stings shot through my chest like an arrow pinning me to my chair. Why, out of all the men in Ashland, did I have to be attracted to him?

  On the surface, there was quite a lot to be attracted to. Hugh Tucker was around six feet tall, and his tailored dark gray suit perfectly outlined his impressive shoulders, along with the rest of his lean, muscled body. Tucker was in his fifties, but his tan skin had the smooth, ageless look that was common among vampires, and his black hair, which had just a bit of a wave to it, gleamed under the restaurant’s soft, muted lights. He had high, sharp cheekbones, along with a straight nose, and a neat black goatee adorned his chin, drawing attention to his strong jaw. But even more attractive than his physical appearance was this…buzz around him, as though the air was filled with invisible admirers constantly whispering about how dangerous and intriguing he was.

  A couple of women at the bar must have also heard those same buzzing whispers, because they swiveled around on their stools, like bats sensing possible prey with their echolocation. Tucker seemed oblivious to the women’s admiring looks, and the vampire’s white fangs flashed in his mouth as he smiled at the bartender, who handed him a glass of lemonade.

  Tucker took a sip of his lemonade, then planted one elbow on the bar and looked in my direction. His black gaze trailed down my body, and I resisted the urge to fidget in my chair. I was wearing a dark blue pantsuit, along with black kitten heels, and my black hair was pulled back into its usual French braid, but his intense stare made me feel as though I was sporting something special, rather than just boring business attire. His gaze lingered on the ring on my right hand, a diamond rose wrapped in matching thorns. The rune was a tribute to my mother, as well as a symbol for how dangerous beauty could be. And me too.

  My left fingers curled into the white napkin in my lap, but I stared right back at Tucker, letting my gaze slide over his shoulders and then down his chest. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I thought about how his body had felt against mine that night at the Mitchell mansion, when he’d shoved me out of the way of some falling rubble. How deliciously warm, firm, and solid he had been—and how kind, gentle, and considerate too, even with all the chaos happening at the time.

  Hugh Tucker had always been a perfect gentleman with me, calm, polite, and controlled, even during the weeks he’d spent cooped up in a metal container in my shipping yard along the Aneirin River. Mason had severely injured the vampire during a battle in the Circle family cemetery, and Gin had asked me to watch over Tucker while he healed, a job that had been equal parts frustrating and fascinating.

  Sometimes, when we’d been alone together, I had wondered what Tucker would be like when he wasn’t a perfect gentleman. Part of me still wanted to find out, despite how foolish it would be. Mason Mitchell might be dead, but Tucker had been his right-hand man in the Circle for years, and the vampire was still one of the most duplicitous and dangerous people in Ashland.

  Tucker abandoned his lemonade, pushed away from the bar, and strolled over to our table. My fingers curled even deeper into the napkin still in my lap, but I kept my features blank. I could also be calm and controlled when need be.

  Tucker tipped his head to my grandmother first, then to Mosley. “Mallory, Stuart, you’re both looking well. Married life seems to be agreeing with you both quite nicely.”

  “Something like that,” Mosley snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the other man.

  The dwarf didn’t much care for Tucker, since the vampire had been part of a Circle scheme orchestrated by Deirdre Shaw to try to rob First Trust bank several months ago.

  Mallory ignored Mosley’s glower and grinned at the vampire. “Why don’t you join us? We’re all friends now, thanks to Gin.”

  Tucker’s left eye twitched, but that was his only reaction to the mention of Gin. He had a better poker face than just about anyone I’d ever met, which was one of the things I found so fascinating about him. I knew what it was like to always keep your feelings bottled up, lest someone decide to take them out on you, the way my father had on my mother. The faintest slip of a smile, the tiniest hint of a disapproving tone, and the smallest, most polite suggestion were all it had taken for my father to fly into a rage and beat my mother—and me too.

  So as strange as it seemed, in some ways, I found Hugh Tucker to be a kindred spirit. I’d suffered at my father’s and brother’s hands, just as he had suffered at Mason’s hands for years.

  “Thank you for the kind invitation, but I’m meeting someone for dinner.” Tucker’s gaze flicked back to mine. “A potential new business associate.”

  He kept staring at me, as though waiting for me to ask some question, although I couldn’t imagine what it might be—

  “Hugh! There you are!” A voice boomed through the restaurant.

  Another man strolled over to our table. He was about ten years older than me, in his early forties, and quite handsome, with blond hair, brown eyes, ruddy skin, and a very square jaw. He was also a large man, several inches over six feet, and his navy suit jacket and matching shirt strained to contain his impressive physique. Both his height and his bulging muscles hinted at the mix of giant and dwarven blood running through his veins.

  Tucker shook hands with the other man. “Mr. O’Neal, so nice to see you again.”

  The man clapped his hand on Tucker’s shoulder. The sharp, jarring motion probably would have made most people rock back, but Tucker didn’t move an inch. “I’ve told you before, Hugh, call me Clyde.” He turned his attention to our table. “Who are your friends?”