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She sat there a few seconds, eyes closed, resting, getting her strength back. Once her breathing eased into a more normal pattern, Bria opened her eyes and stared at me again. "Who are you? Why did you come in here after Elliot Slater and his men?"
Ah, the moment of truth. I sat down on the floor in front of her and crossed my legs, considering my options. I could lie, of course. Make up some fairy tale about being a good Samaritan who just happened to hear the noise, put on a ski mask, grabbed several knives, and jumped into the fray against five giants and a pissed-off Ice elemental. Not that Bria would believe me. Hell, I'd probably start laughing halfway through a story like that. Finn would certainly get a chuckle out of it. Since I couldn't think of a somewhat convincing lie, I decided to go with the truth.
"I have a certain interest in Slater," I replied. "I've been following him all night. "
"And what would that interest be?" she asked.
"I'm going to kill him. "
Silence.
I sat there and waited for the angry condemnation to fill Bria's blue eyes. For my baby sister to look at me the disappointed, reproachful way that Detective Donovan Caine always had-like I was a dog who'd betrayed its master.
Instead, Bria tilted her head to one side and regarded me with a thoughtful expression. "You're an assassin, aren't you?"
Not a huge leap of logic to make, considering what she'd seen me do tonight. I shrugged. No reason to lie now. "I used to be. I retired a while back. "
"So why go after Slater now?"
I shrugged again. "An old friend called in a favor, and I owe her big-time. Besides, my retirement's been rather boring for the most part. I like to keep my hand in things, and my blades sharp. So I help the little people, as it were, every once in a while. "
Bria snorted. "What are you then? Some sort of guardian angel?"
"The angel of death, maybe," I replied. "People who have guardian angels generally don't need my services. "
She smiled at my grim humor. We sat there staring at each other. Five seconds ticked by. Then, ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty-five. . .
"Why don't you take off that ski mask?" Bria asked.
I raised my eyebrows. "And let you get a good look at my face? I think not, detective. "
She smiled again. "Can't blame me for trying. "
"Of course not," I replied. "So is this the part where you tell me what a bad, bad girl I've been, murdering people for something as common as money? Vow to bring me to justice no matter what and do the whole honorable cop shtick?"
Bria shrugged and winced at the pain the motion brought along with it. "Why would I do that? If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead right now. Beaten to death by Slater and his men. Believe me, I'm grateful for the intervention, even if it is by a self-proclaimed angel of death. "
Well, that certainly wasn't the answer I'd been expecting. Donovan Caine would have already been planning which cell to stick me in down at the police station. Seemed my sister's morals were a little bendier than the detective's. But what surprised me more than her attitude was the emotion her words stirred in me-hope. Hope that maybe one day I could tell Bria who I really was and what I'd had to do to stay alive over the years-and that she would accept me despite all the bad things I'd done. And what I was prepared to do now to keep her, Finn, and the Deveraux sisters safe from Mab Monroe, Elliot Slater, and anyone else stupid enough to threaten them.
Fucking hope. Next thing you'd know, I'd be getting soft and sentimental and teary-eyed over puppies and kittens and rainbows.
"So you're okay with your savior being a bona fide assassin?" I asked.
Bria shrugged and winced again. "You saved me for whatever reason. I'm not prepared to think too much about it tonight. I know there are worse things, worse people in the world. I'll stop them first. Then, when that's done, maybe I'll get around to you-"
That was all Bria got out before the blood loss caught up to her, and she toppled over in a dead faint.
Chapter Twelve
"Knock, knock," Finn called out as he opened the front door to Bria's house. "Honey, I'm home-" He stopped at the sight of me kneeling over Bria's inert body. "What happened to her?"
"She passed out from the pain and blood loss," I said.
"Good thing," Finn replied. "Seeing as how we have company. "
He stepped to one side, and Sophia and Jo-Jo Deveraux entered the living room. The two dwarven sisters stood in the doorway and surveyed the destruction and dead bodies in front of them. Sophia wore a pair of thick, black coveralls and heavy boots, while Jo-Jo was clad in a pink robe that looked fuzzier and softer than a baby's blanket. The older dwarf had stuck her feet into a matching pair of house shoes. She wasn't wearing socks, though, despite the chill of the December night.
Jo-Jo let out a low whistle. "Finn told Sophia that you'd made a mess, but I didn't think it would be quite this bad, Gin. "
