“What’s wrong, Philly?” I drawled. “Don’t like being my babysitter tonight?”
He shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. “You’re Gin Blanco, the famed assassin turned underworld queen. You don’t need babysitting.” He shifted in his seat, making it creak again, then shook his head. “But Owen insisted on it . . . The things I do for that man.”
Phillip was right. As the Spider, I could handle myself in just about any situation. I certainly didn’t need him here, but Owen Grayson, Phillip’s best friend and my significant other, had insisted on it. But I hadn’t protested too much when Phillip showed up at the Pork Pit, my barbecue restaurant, at closing time and told me that he wanted to tag along tonight.
With the mysterious members of the Circle out there, a little backup might come in handy. Even if said backup was whinier than one would hope.
“Why couldn’t Lane sit out here with you?” Phillip asked. “Or Jo-Jo, or even Sophia for that matter? Why did I get elected to freeze my balls off tonight?”
Finnegan Lane, my foster brother, was often my partner in crime in all things Spider-related, while Jo-Jo and Sophia Deveraux healed me and cleaned up the blood and bodies I left in my wake.
“Because Finn is still dealing with the mess that Deirdre Shaw left behind at First Trust bank, and Jo-Jo and Sophia had tickets to The Nutcracker,” I said, ticking our friends off on my hand. “And, of course, you know that Owen promised Eva that he’d help out with that holiday toy drive she’s leading over at the community college.”
“I would have been happy to help Eva with her toy drive,” Phillip grumbled again. “Thrilled. Ecstatic even.”
Despite their roughly ten-year age difference, Phillip was crazy about Eva Grayson, Owen’s younger sister, although he was waiting for her to finish college and grow up a bit before pursuing a real relationship with her.
“Anything would have been better—warmer—than this.” He popped up the collar of his trench coat so that it would cover more of his neck, then slouched down even farther in his seat.
“Aw, poor baby. Stuck out here in the cold and dark with me tonight.” I clucked my tongue in mock sympathy. “And to think that I was just about to offer you some hot chocolate.”
His blue eyes narrowed with interest. “You have hot chocolate? Homemade hot chocolate?”
I reached down and pulled a large metal thermos out of the black duffel bag sitting between our seats on the van floor. “Of course I have homemade hot chocolate. You can’t have a stakeout on a cold winter’s night without it.”
I grabbed a couple of plastic cups out of the duffel bag and handed them to Phillip, who held them steady while I poured. The rich, heady aroma of the hot chocolate filled the van, cutting through the icy chill that had crept inside the vehicle. I breathed in the fumes as I capped the thermos and put it away. Phillip passed me my cup, and I drew in a couple more steamy breaths before taking a sip. The dark chocolate coated my tongue with its bittersweet flavor, softened by the vanilla extract and raspberry puree I had added to the mixture.
Phillip cradled his hot chocolate like a bum huddled over a trash can fire. He took a long slurp and sighed again, this time with happiness. “Now, that’s more like it.”
We both settled back in our seats, watching the mansion and sipping our hot chocolate.
The folks who’d been hosting the dinner party must have decided to go to bed, since the recorded carols abruptly cut off, and the holiday lights winked out one door, window, and plastic snowman at a time, further blackening the landscape. The drizzle picked up as well, turning into more of a steady rain, each drop tinking against the windshield. It truly was a night fit for neither man nor beast, but this had been my favorite kind of environment as an assassin. The cold, the rain, the darkness always made it that much easier to get close to your target and then get away after you’d put him down. If I wanted someone dead, I would have waited for a night just like this one to strike.
And I was willing to bet that someone might have the same idea about the man in the mansion.
Phillip tipped his cup at the shadow still pacing back and forth behind the patio doors. “You really think that he knows something about the Circle?”
I shrugged. “He’s the best lead I have right now—and the only person still alive who might know anything about them.”