Confused, I stared at her blankly.

"Your older profession, dear," she added.

From my shoulder came a tinkling of pixy laughter, and my eyes widened.

"Mrs. Sarong…" I stammered, feeling my face flash red.

"Oh, for Cerberus's sake," the woman said in exasperation. "I want you to kill Mr. Ray for murdering my aide. And I'm prepared to pay handsomely."

Shock zinged through me as I finally got it. "I don't kill people," I protested, trying to keep my voice soft, but with a bar full of vampires and Weres, I was sure someone else heard me. "I'm a runner, not an assassin." Has she heard about Peter?

Mrs. Sarong patted my hand. "It's okay, dear. I understand. Shall we say seventy-five thousand? Place the appropriate bet the next game and let me know. I'll take it from there."

Seventy-five … I couldn't find enough air. "You don't understand," I said, starting to sweat. "I can't." What if David finds out? Peter's death had been insurance fraud.

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips, her gaze going to her daughter. "Has Simon Ray already hired you?" she asked, her voice vehement. "A hundred thousand, then. Damn, he's a bastard."

I looked at David, but he seemed as shocked as I was. "You misunderstand," I stammered. "What I meant is, I don't do that kind of thing."

"And yet," she said, each syllable clear and precise, "people who annoy you seem to die."

"They do not," I objected, leaning until my back hit the chair.

"Francis Percy?" she began, ticking names off on her fingers. "Stanley Saladan? That mouse of a man… ah, Nicholas Sparagmos, I believe?"

Her spread fingers closed elegantly, and alarm hit me. "I didn't kill Francis," I said. "He managed that all by himself. And Lee was dragged off by a demon he summoned. Nick went over a bridge."

Mrs. Sarong's smile widened, and she patted my hand again. "Very well done on the last one," she said, glancing at her daughter. "Leaving an old boyfriend to clutter future relationships is investing in trouble."

For a moment I stared. She wanted me to kill Simon Ray? "I didn't kill them," I protested. "Really."

"But they are nevertheless gone." Mrs. Sarong gave me a perfect smile, as if I had done a fabulous trick. She suddenly straightened, the comfortable companionability that had wreathed her expression shifting to blank questioning. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I watched her pull the air deep into her. "Simon!" she barked, rising to her feet.

I jumped up when her entourage dived into motion, heading right for us. She knew. She knew Mr. Ray was here.

"Rache!" Jenks shrilled, leaving my shoulder in a sparkle of gold dust. I backed into David, but Mrs. Sarong's pack wasn't concerned with me.

A shout quickly followed by a muffled thump shook the air. Kisten lunged in from the kitchen, his steps holding that eerie vampire quickness. He was headed for the back room, but before he could get there, Mr. Ray stormed in.

Great, I thought when the rest of his thugs spilled out behind him with drawn weapons pointed at us. Just freaking great.

Eighteen

"You pompous little bitch!" the infuriated Were shouted, red-faced and with his thugs backing him. "What are you doing here?"

Mrs. Sarong pushed past the men who had put themselves in front of her. "Arranging your removal," she said, her voice sharp and her eyes glaring.

Removal? As if he were an overgrown tree clogging the sewer line?

The short businessman seemed to choke on his own breath, becoming choleric. Mouth gaping to look like one of his prize fish, he struggled to respond. "Like hell you are!" he finally managed. "That's what I wanted to talk to her about!"

From my shoulder came a small, "Holy crap, Rache. How did you become Cincy's assassin of choice?"

I stared at the two packs separated by little round tables. Mr. Ray-wants to contract me to take Mrs. Sarong out?

The clicks of cocking weapons startled me from my shock.

"Grab some air, Jenks!" I shouted, kicking over a table and filling the space it had been in.

Jenks left me in a dazzling burst of gold sparkles. A whiff of musk and David had my back, that freaking big-ass rifle in his grip making him look like a gunslinger out for revenge. Kisten leapt forward. Blond hair swinging, he stepped between the two packs, his arms up in placation but his expression hard. The air pressure shifted, and suddenly Steve was there, too.

Everyone froze. My pulse hammered, and my knees went watery. It was too much like the time I had stormed in here looking for Piscary after he had blood-raped Ivy. Except this time there were a lot of pointed guns.

Sweating, I watched Kisten force the visible tension from his face and stance until he was the casual, confident bar manager on the surface. "I don't give a rat's ass if you kill each other," he said, his voice carrying well. "But you'll take it out of my bar and into the lot, like everyone else."

David pressed into my back, and with his warmth grounding me, I took a deep breath. "No one is going to kill anyone," I said. "I called you here, and you are all going to sit down so we can settle this like Inderlanders, not animals. Got it?"

Mr. Ray took a step forward, a short finger pointing at Mrs. Sarong. "I'm going to rip—"

A burst of angst lit through me. "I said shut up!" I shouted. "What is wrong with you?" My bag was heavy on my shoulder, and though I could bring out my splat gun, I didn't know whom I'd aim it at. At this point no one was aiming at me. I think. And to tap a line and make a circle might just set them all off. No one was shooting—I'd work from there.

"I'm not going to kill Mrs. Sarong," I said to Mr. Ray.

To my left, Mrs. Sarong stiffened, but she looked pissed, not afraid.

"And I'm not going to go after Mr. Ray for you," I added.

Mr. Ray harrumphed, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief. "I don't need your help to pin the whiny bitch," he said, and the men surrounding him tensed as if to rush her.

That just ticked me off. This was my party, damn it. Weren't they listening? "Hey! Hey!" I shouted. "Excuse me, but I'm the one you both wanted to contract to kill each other. I suggest," I said sarcastically, "that we all sit at that big table over there, just you, and you, and me." I looked at the weapons still cocked and pointed. "Alone."

Mrs. Sarong nodded in a show of acquiescence, but Mr. Ray sneered. "You can say anything in front of my pack," he stated belligerently.

"Fine." I stepped from David, and he uncocked his weapon. "I'll talk to Mrs. Sarong."

The collected woman smiled cattily at the flustered man and turned to give her daughter a word of instruction. She was just as stymied as Mr. Ray, but by calmly capitulating rather than insisting we do it her way, she looked more in control. Intrigued, I filed the wisdom away for more thought later. If I have a later.

"You got this okay?" I murmured to David.

I could smell the musk coming off him, thick and heady from his tension. The depression was gone, leaving only a capable-looking man with a rifle that could blow a hole in an elephant. It was a vampire killer. It would work on Weres, easy.

"No problem, Rachel," he said, his brown eyes everywhere but on me. "I'll keep them right where they are."

"Thanks." I touched his upper arm. He flicked his gaze to mine, then backed up a step, his duster furling about the tops of his boots.

My breath came out in a long exhalation. Pulse slowing, I stepped between the two Were factions and those guns, headed for the table at the foot of the stairs. Kisten was still standing in the middle of the room, and he was pulled into my wake as I passed him. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but it was from the Weres, not him.