Widow's Web (Elemental Assassin) Read Free Page B

mention keep him firmly in the here and now with me. I didn’t like playing second fiddle any more than the next woman did, especially when I didn’t know exactly what was going on with my lover.
    Owen started to loosen his tie, but I put the paintball gun down on the desk and strolled over to him. He stopped what he was doing to watch me, and I put an extra shimmy into my hips. Heat sparked in Owen’s gaze—heat that matched the warmth that was flaring up inside me as well.
    “Allow me,” I said.
    Owen watched with dark, hooded eyes as I unknotted his tie and let it fall to the floor. Then I ran my hands across his chest, marveling at the warm muscles there, before reaching up and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. I pushed the fabric aside, leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. Owen’s arms snaked around me, pulling me close, and his fingers began pressing into my back, urging me on. I definitely had his full attention now.
    “Why don’t I help you get out of that ruined suit?” I murmured. “In addition to killing people, this assassin also happens to be exceptionally good at cleanup.”
    A sexy grin spread across Owen’s rugged face, softening the scar that slashed underneath his chin. “Really? That’s something I’d be very interested in seeing.”
    I led him into the bathroom. The door didn’t even shut behind us before my lips were on his and I forgot about everything but the pleasure we could give each other. There would be time enough to figure out what had Owen so worried—later.
    Much, much later.

3
    Our war games finished, it was time for me to collect my prize—dinner at Underwood’s.
    The next night, Owen and I took his car over to the restaurant, which was located in a classy, older building in the city’s financial district. Owen pulled up to the sidewalk where a crimson awning bore the restaurant’s name, and we got out of the car. While he handed the keys off to a valet, I stood on the sidewalk and reached out with my Stone magic, curious about what I might hear. The brick of the building whispered of money, power, and plots, mixed with lighter notes of dishes and silverware tinkling together. Not unpleasant sounds, but ones that told me just how many dark, deadly schemes had been hatched here over dinner, dessert, and a nice bottle of wine.
    Owen took my arm, and we went inside and rode the elevator up to the third and top floor, where the maître d’ escorted us to a corner table. Crimson linens covered thetable, which had been set with fine white china, delicate wineglasses, and silverware that had a more highly polished luster than some diamond rings. Three crimson tapers shaped like forks burned in a crystal candelabra in the center of the table. The fork was the restaurant’s rune, representing all the good meals that could be had there, and the symbol was etched into the plates and silverware, as well as being stitched into the linens in gold thread.
    Underwood’s prided itself on its excellent food, service, and luxurious trappings, but what I appreciated most was the view. The brick had been stripped from the walls and replaced with floor-to-ceiling windows, letting diners look out over the Aneirin River, which wound through this part of downtown. The shops and lights along the river made the surface of the water glimmer like a silver ribbon unspooling into the black velvet embrace of the night. In the distance, I could just make out the white gleam of the Delta Queen riverboat casino. From this angle, the riverboat looked lovely, pristine even, but, as with so many things in Ashland, what lurked beneath the pretty, polished surface was a different story.
    A waiter took our drink orders—whiskey for Owen, gin and tonic for me—and handed us each a leather-bound menu. No prices were listed on the creamy white pages. Underwood’s was Ashland’s fanciest and most expensive restaurant, the kind of highfalutin place that charged you an