Despite my run-in with Hugh Tucker, the rest of the week passed by without incident.
I upped security at the shipping yard, but nothing untoward happened there, and no more dead guys mysteriously appeared and then disappeared around my mansion. Silvio hadn’t contacted me with any information yet, so I still didn’t know who the dead guy might have been working with or for, but Clyde O’Neal was taking my refusal to sell my shipping yard much better than I’d expected. I didn’t receive any more visits from Tucker, or threats from anyone else, but the peace and quiet didn’t comfort me. Clyde was probably just trying to sucker me into lowering my guard before he sicced Tucker—or someone else—on me again.
Either way, the lack of trouble set me on edge, and soon I felt like Silvio had at the Pork Pit earlier in the week. After a while, you got so used to being in danger and dealing with one problem after another that the rare calm spells seemed a little bit…boring.
Oh, I had no real desire to be in mortal peril, but at least if something horrible had happened, I would have been able to react to it and plan my next move. Waiting and wondering when my enemies were going to strike next was far more unnerving. It always reminded me of coming home from school as a kid and never knowing what kind of mood my father would be in. Whether Renaldo would be kind and charming, or cold and aloof, or angry and abusive.
As a distraction, I threw myself even deeper into work, and I ramped up my search for someone to help me run the shipping yard, along with the rest of my business. I plowed through dozens of résumés and background checks and even conducted several in-person interviews, but none of the applicants was quite right. They were either too innocent, inexperienced, and idealistic or too hardened, bitter, and jaded like me.
Even worse, almost every single person had lied on their application in one way or another, and the skeletons in some people’s closets made me even more wary of them. If folks had told me the truth, I might have been able to overlook their prior misdeeds. After all, I wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen myself, and I’d done plenty of awful things. But starting out with a lie—like claiming you hadn’t embezzled thousands of dollars from your last employer when you actually had—would only lead to more trouble in the end for me.
My other main distraction was Mallory and Mosley’s take-two wedding reception. Despite all the preplanning my grandmother had done, I still spent several hours helping her pick out table linens, decide on a playlist, and taste-test appetizers, entrees, and desserts. So much for Mallory’s claim that I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Still, spending some quality time with my grandmother helped ease the lonely ache I had felt ever since she had moved in with Mosley.
Finally, the night of the party arrived. Mallory and I had also gone shopping earlier in the week, and I shimmied into a royal-blue cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline, elbow-length sleeves, and a flared skirt that stopped at my knees. I left my black hair loose around my shoulders, highlighted my blue eyes with smoky silver shadow and liner, and painted my lips a deep, dark scarlet. Black kitten heels and my rose-and-thorn ring completed my party ensemble.
I grabbed my coat and purse and drove over to the Rhododendron Inn. A clipper storm had moved through Ashland yesterday and covered the ground with a couple more inches of snow and ice, but the winding road that led up to the resort was clear.
The Rhododendron Inn had been built in the early 1900s by Marisol Patton, a wealthy woman who wanted a mountaintop retreat so she could escape the sweltering summer heat in the lower hills and hollers around the city. Over the years, the Patton family had added on to the inn, until now the massive structure boasted thirteen stories and three wings, along with a spa, a golf course, a man-made lake, and a chairlift that climbed up to the ski and sledding slopes on the very tiptop of the mountain.
The resort’s exterior featured round white stones crisscrossed with thin black wooden beams, making it look like an enormous tic-tac-toe board that had been partially filled in. Golden light spilled out of the wide picture windows, highlighting the folks in tuxedos and glittering gowns who were streaming toward the main entrance. I handed my car off to a waiting valet and followed the crowd to the main ballroom in the center of the resort.
I’d been to dozens of luncheons and fund-raisers here, but tonight the staff had transformed the space into a winter wonderland that mirrored the snowy landscape outside. Sparkly silver linens adorned the tables, while matching panels of fabric covered with tiny white and blue twinkle lights swooped down from the ceiling like elaborate electrified cobwebs. Even more lights wrapped around glittering silver trees clustered together in the corners.
Some folks were meandering along the buffet tables, while others were standing in groups, talking, laughing, and sipping drinks. An enthusiastic band was playing swing tunes on the stage in the back of the ballroom, and the mood was fun and festive. A smile spread across my face. Mallory had been right. This was the perfect way to celebrate her new life with Mosley.
“Pumpkin! There you are!” Mallory waved at me, and I headed over to her.
My grandmother looked lovely in a powder-blue cocktail dress covered with silver sequins, while her favorite diamond tiara was nestled in her teased cloud of snow-white hair. Mosley was by her side, looking as distinguished as always in a matching powder-blue tuxedo. Together, the two of them reminded me of a prom queen and her adoring king.
I kissed them both on their cheeks, then drew back. “The party is wonderful.”
The two dwarves beamed at me. Mosley moved away to talk to some other folks, but Mallory looked past me as though she was searching for someone.
“You didn’t bring a date?” she asked in a hopeful voice.
Somehow I managed to keep from rolling my eyes. “No, I didn’t bring a date.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Her shoulders drooped in disappointment, although she perked right back up again. “But it’s not too late for you to rustle up a date. The party will go to at least midnight, maybe longer if I have my way.”
This time, I did roll my eyes. “I’m perfectly fine flying solo tonight. Besides, it’s not like I can just wander around the resort, grab some random guest, and ask them to be my date.”
A guilty look flickered across Mallory’s face. “Well, actually, that might be easier than you think.”
Before I could puzzle out her weird words, I spotted Silvio Sanchez waving at me in a clear please come here gesture.
I nodded at him and looked at Mallory again. “Regardless of my lack of a date, you should mingle with your guests. Go, enjoy your party. We’ll catch up again later.”
Mallory’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she headed toward Mosley and joined his conversation with a group of people. As soon as she was distracted, I hurried over to Silvio.
The vampire was dressed in a classic black tuxedo, as was the forty-something man standing beside him. The second man was much taller and broader, with brown hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. Like Clyde O’Neal, this man had a mix of giant and dwarven blood running through his veins that made him extremely tough, strong, and dangerous.
Liam Carter grinned at me. “Great party, Lorelei.”
Liam, another one of our mutual friends, was known throughout Ashland for providing protection services to everyone from wealthy citizens to police witnesses to criminals battling other criminals. I’d considered hiring Liam to watch over Mallory and Mosley in case Clyde O’Neal decided to target them instead of me, but I still wanted to handle Clyde myself, so I hadn’t approached Liam—yet.
Besides, Liam was still recovering from being beaten almost to death by Emery Slater a few weeks ago. Jo-Jo Deveraux had used her Air magic to heal Liam’s physical injuries, but I knew from personal experience that you didn’t so easily recover from that sort of emotional trauma, and I didn’t want to add anything else to his plate right now unless absolutely necessary.
I smiled back at him. “Thanks, but this was all Mallory. You should go tell her. My grandmother adores compliments.”
“I’ll do that.” Liam touched Silvio’s elbow. “And get us some drinks while I’m gone?”
Silvio nodded, and Liam disappeared into the crowd. The vampire watched him go, a dreamy expression on his face.
“I take it things are going well with Liam?” I asked.
“So far, so good.” Silvio looked at me. “I know this is a party, but I have some news you might be interested in.”
“Let me guess. Gin is home early and going to crash the party with dozens of enemies in tow.”
Silvio laughed at my joke, but his face quickly turned serious. “Nothing as bad as that. Although I did finally learn the identity of your mystery man.”
He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, tapped on it a few times, and showed me the device. The dead guy’s face filled the screen, and he was smirking in a driver’s license photo.
“Actually, Xavier found out who he was,” Silvio continued. “Someone left your mystery man buried under some trash bags in an alley over in Southtown. A couple of sanitation workers found him earlier today. Xavier ran his prints and sent the info to me.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Walter Butler. He originally hails from Blue Marsh, and he has a rap sheet a mile long. Assault, armed robbery, and the like. But for the last few years, Walter has been hiring himself out as a hit man. He’s suspected of being involved in almost a dozen murders for hire.”
I frowned. “You think someone sent Walter to kill me?”
Silvio shrugged. “The thought had crossed my mind, especially given your recent troubles with Clyde O’Neal.”
“Did the hit man work for Clyde?”
Silvio shrugged again. “Not that I can tell, but I haven’t dug up that much information on him yet. I put out feelers to my usual contacts, so I should know more soon…”
He kept talking, but a flash of movement caught my eye, and I looked past him. Someone had darted past the open ballroom doors, a black blur that had gone by almost too fast for me to follow.
Suspicion filled me. I only knew one person who was that fast on their feet, so I reached out with my metal magic. It was hard to tell, given the conversation and music filling the ballroom, but I could have sworn that telltale hum erupted in my ears.
“…let you know as soon as I find out more—”
“Thanks for the info, Silvio.” I cut him off. “I really appreciate it, but I need to check on something. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before he could say anything else, I strode past him and hurried out the open doors. To my left, several folks were talking and drinking, but when I turned to my right, I once again saw that black blur of movement out of the corner of my eye. More suspicion filled me, and I headed in that direction.
I smiled and nodded at everyone I passed, but I quickly left the crowded main hallway behind and stepped into an empty corridor. No one was moving through this area, and the only sound was the faint scuff of my heels against the carpet. Still, I kept moving forward, following that strange hum in my ears, wondering if I was just imagining the sensation—
A door to my right opened. I whirled in that direction, but before I could react, a hand darted out and dragged me forward, pulling me into another room. I stumbled, and my purse slipped through my fingers and dropped to the floor. That hand tightened around my wrist, spinning me around. I slammed up against someone’s chest, and a second hand settled on my waist, steadying me.
I lurched back. My head snapped up, and my own hands curled into fists, ready to punch whoever had grabbed me—
Hugh Tucker.
For the third time in the last few days, I froze at the sight of the vampire.
Like every other man here tonight, Tucker was dressed in a tuxedo, but he wore it far better than most. The black jacket outlined his shoulders, hinting at the lean muscles underneath, while the white shirt brought out his tan skin, along with his black hair, eyes, and goatee. My surprise vanished, although my heart kept hammering, picking up speed with each passing second.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, slowly loosening my fists. “And why did you grab me like that?”
“Apologies,” Tucker replied. “But it seemed like the best, easiest, and quickest way to get you out of the hallway.”
His gaze roamed over me, and appreciation sparked in his eyes. “You look lovely.”
I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress. His gaze tracked the movement, and a hungry look filled his face, as though he wanted to follow the motion with his own hands.
Heat shot through my body at the thought of him touching me, but I dropped my hands to my sides and glanced around. White tile, large stalls, a long counter studded with silver sinks and topped by a mirror with frosted edges.
I frowned. “Why did you yank me into a bathroom?”
“The room doesn’t matter. I just wanted to get you out of sight.”
“Why?”
Tucker fell silent, his lips pressing into a thin line.
I waited, but when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to respond, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re always so mysteriously quiet whenever someone asks you a direct question. It’s one of your worst traits. If you aren’t going to answer me, then I’m leaving.”
I started to head toward the door, but he stepped in front of me, blocking the exit.
“I can’t let you return to the party.”
“Why not?” Suspicion filled me. “What’s going on?”
“Exactly what I told you would happen,” Tucker replied. “Clyde O’Neal does not appreciate your continued refusal to sell him your shipping yard.”
My eyes narrowed. “Clyde is here? At the party?”
“Yes, and he’s looking for you. He wants to…further discuss the situation.”
I snorted. “You mean he’s here to kidnap and kill me and take my shipping yard by force.”
“Something like that. Hence my escorting you in here.” He pointed to a door in the wall on the opposite side of the room. “If you hurry, you can slip out that way, retrieve your car, and leave before Clyde realizes you’re gone.”
I lifted my chin. “I am not running away from Clyde O’Neal or anyone else.”
Tucker glowered at me. “There you go again, being annoying and frustrating.”
Anger shot through me, and I slapped my hands on my hips. “More annoying and frustrating than you luring me away from the ballroom and dragging me in here?”
He frowned. “I didn’t lure you away. I was doing a discreet sweep of the area, but somehow you spotted me anyway. How did you do that? Because I excel at not being seen.”
I opened my mouth to tell him about my metal magic, about this oddly pleasing hum I sensed whenever he was around, but I clamped my lips shut. Tucker wasn’t telling me everything, so why should I reveal anything about myself or my power to him in return?
He arched an eyebrow. “Now who’s being so mysteriously quiet when asked a direct question?”
I stiffened at him throwing my own words back in my face. “I’m not leaving. I’ll deal with Clyde myself, before he does something stupid and ruins Mallory and Mosley’s party.”
I started toward the door, but once again Tucker blocked my path. I tried to skirt around him, but he was faster, and he countered every move I made. Anger and annoyance bubbled up in my chest like a geyser about to erupt, so I changed tactics and went at him straight on.
Tucker stepped back, but he still didn’t get out of my way. I kept charging forward, and he kept moving back, the two of us once again doing a weird sort of dance. But this one ended as quickly as it began, and a few seconds later, Tucker’s back was pressed up against the bathroom door, the same door I needed to go through to return to the party.
He smirked at me, knowing that I didn’t have the strength to physically move him away from the door. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Be a stubborn child. I’ll just go out the other door and circle back around to the ballroom that way.”
I whirled around to storm toward the other exit. I had only taken a few steps forward when his voice sounded behind me.
“Lorelei. Stop. Please.”
That soft, almost whispered please made me pause and look over my shoulder. Tucker had stepped away from the door, although his hands were now clenched into fists by his sides. I wasn’t sure what he was asking. I don’t think he knew either. But for a change, one raw emotion after another flashed across his face—interest, desire, longing. All the hot, annoying, frustrating things I felt whenever I was around him.
That vibration in my ears, my body, my heart hummed even louder and stronger, but it wasn’t my metal magic. Not really. No, this was just my own intense attraction to Hugh Tucker.
And for once in my life, I decided to give in to temptation, to do something fun and reckless and stupid. I spun around and strode toward him, closing the distance between us again.
Tucker opened his mouth, but I cut him off.
“No more talking,” I growled.
Then I dug my fingers into his tuxedo jacket, yanked him forward, and pressed my lips to his.