Among those in the underworld, McAllister was probably the person who hated me the most - with good reason. Last year, I'd killed his son, Jake, for trying to rob the Pork Pit and then wanting to rape and murder me. Plus Jonah used to be Mab's lawyer, so I'd cut off his meal ticket and a good deal of his power and influence as well when I'd taken her out.
Rumor had it that McAllister was at loose ends these days, looking for a new crime lord or lady to serve, but he was also gunning for me. A few weeks ago, he'd sicced a sadistic vampire named Randall Dekes on me, but I'd managed to put the vamp in the ground instead.
Needless to say, Jonah was at the top of my to-kill list now. All that was left was for me to decide when and where to take him out - and just how much I wanted to make it hurt. My only regret was that it wasn't going to be tonight. But I wasn't ruining my evening with Owen, especially not for the likes of Jonah McAllister.
The ma?tre d' led him to a table about fifteen feet away from ours. Despite my hatred of him, I had to admit that the lawyer cut a trim, confident, impressive figure in his impeccable black suit. Plus, his thick, perfectly styled coif of silver hair gleamed luxuriously underneath the restaurant's muted lights. Nobody in Ashland - male or female - had better hair.
McAllister sat down and glanced around, checking out who else was there. He tipped his head at Donaldson and Parker, who both politely nodded back at him, even though their smiles were nothing more than mocking sneers. Not too long ago, McAllister had tried to have me and the two of them killed at Mab's funeral. At least, I was convinced he was the one behind that sneak attack, even if nothing had ever been proven. I was mildly surprised that neither boss had retaliated against McAllister yet. Perhaps they didn't realize that he was probably behind it. Or perhaps they simply thought he was beneath their notice these days. Either way, the lawyer was still breathing when he shouldn't have been.
Finally, he spotted Owen and me. He stiffened in his chair, and his mouth puckered downward the faintest bit in displeasure, but the rest of his features didn't move with his lips. Despite the fact that he was in his sixties, McAllister's face was smoother than mine was at thirty, given his regimen of Air elemental facials. Vanity, thy name was Jonah McAllister.
"Well, well, well," I murmured. "Look who's here. I'm glad we had dinner already, or I would have lost my appetite. "
"Ignore him," Owen said. "Just pretend he's not sitting there. I don't want him to ruin our night. I don't want to give him that satisfaction, and I know you don't either. "
"Of course not. We both know he's not worth it. "
So we focused on our menus and ordered dessert - a classic New York cheesecake with strawberry topping for Owen and a decadent black cherry and chocolate parfait for me. I ate my parfait slowly, letting the light, airy layers of cherries and chocolate melt on my tongue and savoring every sweet bite. All the while, though, I wondered if I could possibly lure McAllister into one of the restaurant bathrooms and stab him to death with the knife in my evening bag. A pleasant daydream on my part, since he would never go anywhere willingly with me, but the lawyer's days were numbered - even if he didn't realize it yet.
All through dessert, I kept an eye on McAllister, but he seemed determined to ignore me. Judging by the way he kept checking his expensive watch, the slick lawyer was waiting for someone - and whoever it was looked like they were late. Aw, I just hated that for him.
I'd just put my spoon down and pushed away my empty parfait glass when a series of hushed whispers rippled through the restaurant, as though everyone was trying very hard not to talk about someone and failing miserably. I looked out across the room, wondering who or what the fuss was about.
And that's when I saw her.
There were plenty of beautiful women in the restaurant, the belles of the underworld, the society pages, and all the social circles in between, all of them decked out in the finest evening gowns and jewels they or their husbands' money could buy. But this woman was in a class by herself. She was simply that stunning - the kind of woman who looks almost too beautiful to be real.
She was tall and willowy, with sun-kissed skin and golden hair that rippled halfway down in her back in soft, silky waves. A slinky, sequined, sky-blue gown clung to her curves in all the right places, the slits in the top and the bottom showing off the generous swell of her breasts and the long, lean lines of her legs. A silverstone cuff bracelet flashed on her right wrist, some sort of design etched into the metal.
Every head in the room turned to watch her, and a small, satisfied smile played across her rosy lips. Whoever she was, she knew exactly how stunning she was and enjoyed the attention.
The woman stopped at McAllister's table, which surprised me, since she definitely looked out of his league. The lawyer jumped to his feet, and she coolly offered him her hand, which he shook with all the enthusiasm of a shyster sidling up to his next victim. The two of them exchanged what seemed to be a polite greeting, although I couldn't hear the exact words over the clatter of the dishes and the continued whispers of the other diners.
Even though she was talking to McAllister, the woman was well aware of the stir she'd created. In fact, she encouraged it, slyly glancing at one diner, then the next to judge how eagerly they were ogling her. She even went so far as to subtly pose this way and turn that way to show off all her ample assets. A hip curve here, a flash of leg there, a faint pout of her lips. It was quite a show, better than a movie star preening for the cameras.
Finally, her eyes met mine. When she saw that I was merely curious and not completely enraptured by her, the woman's gaze went past me. But that same small, satisfied smile curved her lips again. Instead of taking the chair McAllister had pulled out for her, she headed in my direction.
I grabbed my purse from where I'd put it on the table. It only took a second for me to flip open the top and palm the silverstone blade nestled inside the black satin fabric, just in case. She was here with McAllister, after all. That didn't necessarily make her my enemy, but it certainly didn't make her my friend either.
Owen was engrossed in eating the last bite of his cheesecake, so he didn't see her approach us and stop on the opposite side of the table from where we were sitting. I'd thought the woman would say something to me, perhaps even make some snide, cliched comment about my being the Spider, but I was surprised once again when she ignored me and fixed her gaze on my lover instead.
Owen pushed his plate away and sighed with contentment. "I know we're here on Finn's dime, but that cheesecake was worth every penny - "
For the first time, he realized someone was staring at him. Owen looked up at the stranger, and his face went white with shock - as pale and stunned and bloodless as I'd ever seen it. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and the napkin he'd been about to put on the table slipped from his suddenly slack fingers and fluttered to the floor.
All the while, the mystery woman just stared at him, that small, satisfied smile still on her lips, stretching a bit wider and looking far more smug now.
"Hello, Owen, darling," she said.
Owen just sort of - sagged. His hands thudded down on the table, and his whole body pitched forward, as if the mere sight of her had turned his bones to jelly. He continued to sit there, a stunned expression on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe there was a woman standing in front of him - that this particular woman was standing in front of him. Whoever she was, he obviously knew her and was floored by her appearance - as floored as I'd been when I'd seen Donovan Caine, an old lover of mine, a few weeks ago. Hmm.
"Don't you have anything to say?" she asked. "Or perhaps a hug for an old friend?"
Her voice was soft, sweet, and utterly feminine, with the kind of faint dulcet chiming that made me think of water rushing down a mountainside. A hypnotizing
voice - one that could persuade a man to do all sorts of things. Up close, I could see that her eyes were somewhere between blue and green - aquamarine, some folks might say. Their color seemed to constantly shift from one to the other and back again, churning like the sea.
"Owen?" she asked again.