Deadly Sting (19 page)

20

“Who the hell are you?” Clementine demanded.

Well, she was blunt, I’d give her that.

“I’m the person who took what you were after in the vault. That’s all you need to know.”

Clementine had heard my voice before in the rotunda and bathroom, so I made my tone low, throaty, and raspy, as though I’d spent my life chain-smoking and chugging down mountain moonshine—sort of like Sophia’s voice.

“Who are you?” she asked again. “Some sort of thief?”

Tension eased out of my shoulders. I’d thought she might put two and two together and realize that Gin Blanco, the Spider, was alive and well, especially given that I’d used my knives to kill some of her men. But apparently, she was still under the impression that Dixon had murdered me outside the bathroom. Good. That was good. Because if she didn’t realize who I really was, then she also wouldn’t realize that she had all the leverage she needed—Finn, Roslyn, Eva, and Phillip—to get me to do exactly what she wanted.

“Something like that,” I replied. “You didn’t think you were the only one who had the bright idea of hitting the big gala, now, did you? All that art on display here tonight, all those jewels, all the publicity surrounding the event. Why, the Briartop staff practically
begged
me to show up and take something.”

“You bitch,” she snarled. “You piggybacked onto my heist.”

“You stung the museum, so I decided to sting you instead,” I corrected. “Honor among thieves is highly overrated. And why should I do all the hard, dirty work of getting into the vault when you and your crew were so eager to do it for me? I was prepared to crack it myself, but what happens when I finally go for it? Why, I find you in there ahead of me. So I decided to wait for the perfect moment to get what I came for—or, rather, to create the perfect moment.”

“The explosion.”

“The explosion,” I agreed. “You really shouldn’t leave bombs lying around where just anyone can find them.”

“And what was it
exactly
that you came for?” Clementine asked.

I plucked the diamond necklace I’d swiped from the vault earlier out of a pouch on my belt. I held it up, admiring the sparkle of the jewels for a moment, before tossing it over to Bria. “A lovely little necklace. Exquisite diamonds. All nice and shiny and ready to be fenced. That ebony tube you were after just happened to be a bonus.”

Silence. I could almost hear Clementine thinking, trying to figure out whether to admit that the tube was what she’d broken into the vault for. In the end, she decided to come clean. She didn’t have another play here, and we both knew it.

“And how did you even know that tube was what I was after?”

“Oh,” I said, “I have my ways. You wouldn’t want a girl to reveal all her trade secrets, now, would you?”

More silence.

“What’s your name?” Clementine asked.

“Well, I could give you a name, but I think we both know it wouldn’t be my real one,” I said. “So why bother?”

“Fine, Ms. No-Name. Here’s how this will go down. You either give me back what you stole, or I start killing people,” Clementine said, her voice just as polite and pleasant as mine. “Starting with Eva Grayson. I’m sure you saw her earlier tonight. Such a pretty girl. It would be a shame to have to put three bullets in her face.”

Owen stiffened, and his violet eyes blazed with anger. He started to open his mouth, but I shook my head and held my finger up to my lips.

I thought she might say something like that, and I was ready for her threat. I chuckled, making the sound light, carefree, and just a tad mocking. “You go right ahead. I don’t care in the slightest whether some poor little rich girl lives or dies.”

“Well, Mr. Grayson might care,” Clementine said, changing tactics. “Why don’t you put him on so I can ask him?”

Owen looked at me, but once again I shook my head.

“Grayson’s dead,” I rasped. “He took a couple of bullets helping me get out of the museum. Bled out quick after that.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clementine replied. “You went to a lot of trouble to get him out of the vault.”

“Wrong. I went to a lot of trouble to get my diamond necklace and your mystery tube out of the vault. Grayson was just there. I took him along as a human shield, in case I ran into any of your giants, which, of course, I did. He served his purpose, then outlived his usefulness.”

I stared at Owen. He frowned at me, doubt filling his eyes—doubt about me and my words. He was wondering what I was playing at. The fact that he couldn’t just trust me after everything we’d been through hurt, another briar burrowing into my heart. But I wasn’t surprised by his lack of trust. That was another thing I’d sliced in two when I’d cut Salina’s throat.

“Well, if Grayson’s dead, then why haven’t one of my men found his body yet?” Clementine asked.

“Because your men aren’t nearly as good at this game as I am. I hope you got them at a discount rate. I haven’t been impressed so far. I’ve killed, what, eight, nine of them now? And I haven’t got a scratch on me.”

Not true, of course, but she didn’t need to know about all my aches and pains, or my dwindling reserves of magic.

Clementine was quiet for a moment. Thinking. “Why haven’t you left the island yet?”

“Well, let’s just say that I didn’t count on you bringing along quite as many giants as you did. They’ve made things a bit more difficult than I expected.”

“You won’t get off Briartop alive,” she vowed, anger coloring her voice.

“If you want to lose more men, that’s fine by me. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night, and I’ve got plenty of guns and ammo, thanks to all the weapons I’ve taken off your men. Rest assured that I have ten million little reasons to motivate me to live—and to kill whoever gets in my way.”

More silence.

I let Clementine stew a few seconds before speaking again. “However, all that doesn’t mean that we can’t come to some sort of agreement. Things don’t need to get any bloodier and more unpleasant than they are already. Besides, if there’s one thing I’m always interested in, it’s increasing my profit margin. I’m rather lazy that way.”

I was totally channeling Finn and his never-ending greed, but I figured it was an emotion the giant would understand well.

“What do you want?” Clementine asked.

Ah, the money question. Now she was finally getting down to business—and so was I.

“Now you’re talking, sugar. I consider myself a reasonable person. I’m willing to trade you the tube and its contents.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Two things. First, and most important, safe passage off the island.”

“And the second?”

I drew in a breath. “Second, you let all the hostages live.”

It was a calculated risk, but it was one I had to take.

“And why do you care so much about those folks?” Clementine asked. “Considering that just a minute ago, you were telling me to put a couple of bullets into Eva Grayson?”

“Well, let’s just say that this isn’t exactly a solo job. As I’m sure you know, you can’t pull a heist like this without greasing a few palms. Well, more than a few. This is Ashland, after all. Anyway, I have a connection or two in the rotunda whom I’d like to see live through the night. Connections that will make it far easier for me to cash in on all my lovely, lovely diamonds.”

“Well, if you care so much about your supposed friends, I could just start shooting people until you decide to turn that tube over to me,” she threatened.

“You could,” I agreed. “Although there are, what, two hundred and some people in the rotunda? The odds aren’t good that you’ll kill my connections. At least, not immediately. Besides, you start shooting folks, and the others will rise up and try to stop you. Self-preservation has a nasty habit of kicking in like that. And while you’re busy fighting off a mob, I’ll be slipping off the island. I’ll find some way off this rock. Trust me on that. The second I’m back on the mainland, I’m a ghost, gone, and whatever’s in this fancy tube along with me. Do you really want to take that chance, sugar?”

She fell silent again. All around me, the others shifted on their feet. The hums of crickets and the bellows of bullfrogs filled in the quiet. In the distance, I could hear the faint sloshing of the Aneirin River as it flowed around the island.

“Fine,” Clementine finally snarled. “I want what’s in that tube more than I want to kill the hostages.”

Well, that, and she had been planning to let them live all along. But I’d take what I could get.

“Excellent,” I drawled. “I thought you might see things my way.”

“Meet me at the boathouse on the back side of the island,” Clementine said. “That’s where we’ll make the exchange. You don’t show, and I tell my men to start shooting.”

It took me a moment to figure out that she was talking about the dock. In the summer, the museum let visitors rent out small plastic paddleboats and steer them through a series of canals that had been carved into and around the island. All the paddleboats were launched from the large dock at the back tip of the island.

I frowned. Why would Clementine want to meet way out there? Why not in the rotunda? Or out by the moving trucks? At least, that way, if things went badly, she could always order her giants to kill me or hop into one of the trucks and make good on her getaway—

Getaway
.

The word, the thought, the idea, echoed through my
mind, along with everything I’d seen and heard this evening.
Clementine boldly announcing herself to the hostages.
Opal taking such care sorting through the jewelry. Dixon
saying they wouldn’t have to share their loot. The bomb
under the moving truck.

Clementine’s getaway plan—that’s what this was all about.

I’d wondered before why the giant and her crew hadn’t worn masks. I’d thought it had been because they were going to kill all of the hostages. But now I knew the real reason: Clementine planned to fake her own death. She was going to blow up the first moving truck, and no doubt all the other ones too, with all of the art and all of the giants inside them . . . probably right as the vehicles were crossing the covered bridge. The wooden structure would collapse from the force of the blasts, plunging the trucks and everything and everyone inside them into the Aneirin River. The currents ran deep, swift, and sure around Briartop Island. They’d carry the blasted remains of the art and the robbers downstream and muddy the waters of the subsequent investigation, so to speak.

That’s why the jewelry was so important. It was the only thing Clementine planned on taking with her. Well, that and the tube that held Mab’s will. I still didn’t know exactly what she wanted with that, but it didn’t much matter at the moment.

What did matter was the fact that Clementine was going to sacrifice her own men and millions in art so that she, Opal, and Dixon could get away clean. No one would come looking for them after the fact, because everyone would think that they were as dead as the other giants. And by the time the bodies were sorted out and folks realized what had happened, well, Clementine would be ensconced on some tropical island far, far away from Ashland.

And to do all this, Clementine had to have a boat stashed at the dock. That’s why she wanted to meet down there.

No doubt, the giant thought she could go kill me, take the tube, and drift on down the river with Opal, Dixon, and all the jewels they’d stolen before any of the other giants realized that she’d left them behind. Not a bad idea, considering how much I’d already screwed up her original plans. She could definitely improvise in a pinch—but so could I.

“Are you still there?” Clementine asked. “It’s the boathouse or nothing. I want you as far away from my men and our art as possible. You’ve already done enough damage to both this evening.”

Of course she did, but not for the reasons she was saying.

“Don’t you worry, sugar. I’ll be there. When you tell your men to release the hostages, I’ll hand over the tube. Then we can both go our separate ways.”

“Fine,” Clementine snapped. “You have thirty minutes. Be there, or I tell my boys to start shooting—and not to stop until every single person in the rotunda is dead.”