After about thirty seconds, Jake's legs wobbled and gave way. His eyes glazed over, and his mouth slackened underneath my hand. I dropped my fingers from his lips.

Jake coughed twice. Blood sputtered out of his lips and flecked the front of my dress. Nothing I could do about that right now. So I put both hands on his suit jacket and dragged him forward. He was heavy, and it took some muscle to flip his legs up and over the side of the tub and then to lower his whole body down the steps and into the bottom without letting him thump down. By the time I was done, Jake McAllister was dead, and I was a sweaty, bloody mess.

First things first. I shut the bathroom door. Then I went back over to Jake McAllister. The bathtub was the fancy marble kind that was more like a small pool than a tub and sat on a raised dais. A couple of steps led up to the rim, and several more led down into the square pool.

I got down into the bottom with Jake. The first thing I did was to retrieve my knife from his chest and lay it on the edge of the tub. Then I maneuvered him so his back was facing the rest of the room. I curled his hands under head and splayed out his legs to make it look as though he'd had too much to drink and had crawled into the tub to sleep it off. At least at first glance. If someone turned Jake over, they'd see the blood on his shirt and in the bottom of the tub. But hopefully, I'd be long gone by the time that happened.

Once that was done, I climbed out and assessed the damage. The tub also featured several shower heads which were set into the walls at various angles, hence the curtain that cordoned the area off from the rest of the bathroom.

The shower curtain was a rich burgundy flecked with gold - and now blood. But unless you peered closely at it, you wouldn't realize the spatter wasn't part of the intended pattern.

Some of Jake's blood had also sprayed onto the marble tile in front of the tub. I grabbed a burgundy washcloth, wet it, and used it to mop up all the stray flecks and specks. I also cleaned off my knife and tucked it back up the sleeve of my dress. The smell of warm copper filled my nose, but I blocked it out - along with the murmur of the marble under my feet. Instead of the dark tone I'd expected, the stone practically sang with giddiness - as though having fresh blood spilled on it made it happy.

The noise made my stomach twist.

I worked quickly, quietly. It had taken me less than two minutes to kill Jake McAllister. Nobody should have missed him yet, but I wasn't taking any chances by moving slowly. Once I had the blood wiped up from the floor in front of the tub, I drew the curtain, hiding it and McAllister's body from sight.

In addition to the tub, the bathroom featured two toilets made out of what looked like real gold. They lay opposite two sinks done in a burgundy marble with streaks of white swirled through it. A gilt-edged mirror flanked the wall above the counter. I stared at myself in the glass, assessing the damage Jake McAllister had done to me with his dying struggles. The bastard's coughing had spattered blood all over my chest. I used the wet washcloth to mop up the blood on my exposed skin, then wrung it out, wet it again, and scrubbed the remaining blood out of my wig. It was harder getting the gobs of blood out of the fake blond tresses, but I managed well enough.

Once that was done, I went to work on my dress. I used some liquid soap from a bottle on the counter and rubbed it into the biggest blood splotches. Since the fabric was black, you couldn't tell what the stain was, just that I'd gotten something on me. But I managed to get most of the blood out.

My eyes swept over the bathroom again, but there was no visible sign anything out of the ordinary had happened in here tonight. I carefully folded the burgundy washcloth and laid it back in its original spot next to the bathtub.

While I waited for the damp spots on my dress to dry, I rummaged in my purse and pulled out a pressed powder compact I'd brought, along with some lipstick. I'd gotten sweaty during my struggle with Jake McAllister, and I touched up my makeup into its heavy mask once more.

I'd just popped open the lipstick to finish fixing my face when the door to the bathroom opened - and Mab Monroe stepped inside.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

For a moment, we just stared at each other, her black eyes on my faux blue ones. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what the Fire elemental could be doing here - and how I could get away from her.

But since Mab Monroe didn't immediately scream for her giant guards or worse, reach for her Fire elemental magic, I assumed she hadn't heard me kill Jake McAllister - or clean up the mess. Only one way to find out.

Somehow, I plastered a smile on my face. "Oh, hello there," I said in a cheery tone. "How are you?"

Mab frowned. "This is one of my private bathrooms. You're not supposed to be in here."

The Fire elemental's voice was soft, breathy, with just a hint of a rasp, like silk rubbing together. But there was far more power and menace in her light tone than in any else's voice I'd ever heard. At the sound, I felt that strange, primal sensation surge through me again. Enemy, that little voice muttered in the back of my head. Enemy, enemy, enemy.

But I tuned out the voice, widened my eyes, and put on my best oh-no-I-just-totally-fucked-up face. Then I gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sugar. I just didn't know. Nobody told me, you see, and this is my very first time here at one of your parties."

Mab stared at me, her eyes dark and thoughtful. Her gaze went to the fuchsia lipstick in my hand, then moved down my body. Her eyes lingered on the damp spots on the front of my dress. "What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, just freshening up a bit. Lot of competition out there tonight. Girl's got to look her best at one of these things."

The Fire elemental stepped farther into the bathroom.

I gave her another smile, leaned forward, and reapplied my lipstick. Mab just stood there, staring at me in the mirror. She might be able to intimidate everyone else in Ashland with her hard stare, but not me. But that didn't mean I was going to do something stupid, like insult the Fire elemental to her face in her own bathroom - with Jake McAllister's cooling body lying ten feet to my right.

Antagonizing Jonah McAllister in my own restaurant was one thing. So was killing his son after he threatened to rape and murder me. But Mab - Mab was different. If only for the simple fact that I didn't know which one of us would come out on top in a fight. But one of us would die, and I didn't want it to be me. I had promises to keep to the Foxes, promises I wouldn't be able to fulfill if I got into a battle with Mab.

So I kept my eyes on my own face and not hers. But in my peripheral vision, I could see the magic glimmering in her eyes. Unlike Jake McAllister, Mab's eyes didn't turn red when she reached for her Fire magic. If anything, they got darker, blacker, until they seemed to suck the light out of the room. Mab was also one of those elementals who leaked power. Well, more like radiated in her case. I could feel her Fire magic pouring off her. It pricked at my skin like a thousand hot, tiny needles.

"What's that on your dress?" Mab asked. "Those spots?"

I capped my lipstick and slid it back into my purse.

My fingers brushed the hilt of my silverstone knife, but I didn't reach for it. Killing a punk like Jake McAllister was one thing. He was reckless, stupid, sloppy. But Mab Monroe was the most dangerous woman in Ashland. I had no doubt she could fry me alive with her magic before I even got the weapon out of my purse.

So I closed the tiny bag, turned to face her, and widened my smile. "Well, you see, that's why I came in here in the first place. The gentleman I was with got a little too... excited about things. A real early bird, if you know what I mean."

I let out a laugh. Mab didn't join in.

"Anyway, I came in here to mop up some of the damage, before I made the rounds to see if any other gentlemen were interested in my services this evening."

Mab's black eyes never left mine. "And who might this gentleman be? This... early bird?"

I forced out another laugh. "Oh, sugar, I didn't ask his name. That was at the top of your list of rules."

She was silent for a few seconds, thinking about my answer. "And what might your name be?"

"Why, Candy, of course, because I'm supersweet."

Disgust flashed across Mab's face. Evidently, she didn't like hookers with cheesy names. But her reaction gave me an idea as to how I could escape this inquisition.

I wet my lips and stepped forward. For a moment, I toyed with the heart-and-arrow rune on my velvet choker, drawing Mab's attention to it. Her eyes flicked to the rune, then back up to mine. I stepped forward and reached for a piece of her hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder.

I immediately regretted the move, because holding onto to Mab's hair felt like rubbing a lit match between my fingers. I half-expected my skin to start blistering from the sensation.

Still, I gave no sign I could sense her elemental magic.

Instead, I rubbed her lock of hair, curled it around my finger, and pushed it back over her shoulder. I let my fingers linger on her shoulder a moment longer than would be considered polite, then drew my arm back. My fingertips, my whole hand, felt like they were on fire. Somehow, I managed not to look at them.

"You know, I'm here this evening to service the guests any way they'd like," I said in a breathy tone. "And since this is your party, I'd be more than happy to make myself available to you, Miz Monroe. For however long you'd like. Any way you'd like."

For the first time, something like amusement sparked in Mab's eyes. "You're very bold, aren't you?"

I gave her a delicate shrug and a lascivious grin, making sure to wet my lips with my tongue again. "You have to be, in this line of work."

Mab's black gaze moved down my body again, this time with more prurient interest. She gave a regretful shake of her head. "As tempting as your offer is, Candy, I'm afraid I don't indulge like that at my own functions. I always keep my business and pleasure separate."

I stuck my lower lip out and pouted. "Too bad. Well, if you change your mind, I'll be around. All night long."

I batted my eyes at her. Mab raised an eyebrow, but the corners of her lips turned up into what I assumed was a smile. I couldn't tell if I'd amused her or if she was just mocking me, but I didn't care to stick around and find out.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I really do need to get back to work," I said. "Mix and mingle and all that."

"Of course," Mab murmured.

I made a move to step around her. But Mab Monroe shifted ever so slightly, so that my body brushed up against hers on my way to the door. Again, her magic washed over me, so hot it seemed as if my dress had burst into flames. But evidently Mab liked what she felt because her smile widened. I gave her another lascivious wink and kept going, even though my stomach clenched at the feel of her magic pricking my skin, even harder and hotter this time, as if I'd aroused her.

I'd just made it to the door when Mab called out to me again.

"Have we met before, Candy?" she asked. "For some reason, you look familiar."

I turned and shook my head. "I don't think so, and I surely would have remembered meeting you, Miz Monroe.

You're a legend in this town."

I gave her another smile before I ducked out into the hallway.

Somehow, I forced myself to saunter back the way I'd come instead of running like I really wanted to. I didn't know what bothered me more. The fact Mab Monroe had considered taking me up on my fake offer to fuck her or the fact I'd left the Fire elemental in her own bathroom with a dead body in the tub. Either way, things were starting to get out of hand. I needed to get Tobias Dawson alone - now - or get out. Saving my own skin tonight - and Finn's and Roslyn's - came first. Even before the job I'd promised to do for Warren Fox.

I'd just rounded the corner that led back to the main hallway when someone moved in the shadows off to my left. I palmed one of my knives.

"That was quite a performance you put on back there in the bathroom," a male voice murmured. "Very entertaining."

Owen Grayson stepped out of the shadows. Like every other man on the premises, he wore a tuxedo. Once again, I was struck by how compact, sturdy, and strong his frame was. Almost dwarven, except for his six-foot-one height.

His violet eyes glittered in the low light, even as his blueblack hair disappeared into the shadows. The white slash of a scar under his lips offset the crooked quirk of his nose, adding that much more character to his chiseled features.

First Jake McAllister, then Mab Monroe, and now Owen Grayson. Terrific.

"I'm not sure what you mean." I tightened my grip on my knife.

Instead of answering me, Owen Grayson's eyes trailed down my body, one slow inch at a time. Breasts, stomach, thighs, legs. He took it all in. A smile spread across his face.

"You know, Ms. Blanco," he said, purposefully using my name. "The dress is lovely, but I think I like the apron and jeans better. Seems more like the real you."

Fuck. Despite the blond wig, Owen Grayson had recognized me. Even worse, he'd somehow heard me proposition Mab Monroe in the bathroom. I wondered if he'd seen me with Jake McAllister as well - and realized the other man had never come out of the room.

"And what would you know about the real me?" I asked in a soft tone.

Owen's smile deepened. "I know you have a silverstone knife in your hand right now."

There was no way he could have seen me palm the knife. So how did he know I even had one? I stared at him closer and realized the reason his violet eyes were so bright was because they were glowing - with magic. A faint trace, barely noticeable, but I felt it. A cool caress, not unlike my own Stone magic. Which could only mean one thing.

"You have an elemental talent for metal."