“Hell of a nick,” Knox muttered, finishing the stitches.
Gigi couldn’t help thinking that Slate’s skin looked pale—not a word she associated with him. Knox unearthed a bottle of bourbon and forced it on their patient, for the pain.
Now that the sewing was done, Slate didn’t even seem to feel it—the bourbon or the pain.
Gigi kept expecting him to pass out, but he didn’t. And the entire time, she kept thinking:He came to me.The rest of the world thought Gigi was helpless, but Mattias Slater—Code Name Mimosas, Mr. Very Bad News, he of the flat, emotionless voice and the long list of unforgivable sins—had come to her for help.
The least Gigi could do was distract him from the pain. “Tell me about Eve,” she said. “And/or your top three favorite pop songs.”
“I hate pop songs.”
Gigi’s free hand joined the one that already held Slate’s. “Eve it is, then.”
“She wanted in—on whateverthisis.”
The Gilded Blade.“Eve wanted an invitation,” Gigi summarized. “From Calla. She sought one out. That’s why the two of you are here in St. Adelaide.”
“Eve wants what Avery has,” Slate said. “Every time, every damn time. And for better or worse, there’s no talking Eve out of anything. Ever.”
“Worse,” Gigi clarified helpfully. “Eve isthe worst.”
“You don’t know her like I do.”
“I know that sheshot you.”
“Nicked me.”
“Not a nick,” Knox muttered.
“Evemeantto nick me,” Slate insisted. “She’s just not quite as good a shot as she thinks she is.”
Gigi stared at Slate for several seconds, trying to make any of this compute, and then she realized something. “You’re an optimist.”
“I am not.”
“You are a grumpy optimist,” Gigi declared. “Eve is your family. You believe the best in her, even now.”
“I’m the one who taught her how to shoot.” Slate closed his eyes, just for a moment. “In exchange, Eve taught me how to braid.”
Knox snorted. “Why would you need to know how to—”
“Don’t want to talk about it.” Slate fixed his dark eyes on Gigi’s. “The plan was for Eve to lure the Woman in Red out anddisappearwith her, and I was going to track them. Worked like a charm—the first part, at least. Woman in Red showed, hood and all. I kept my distance, but I was close enough to see her hand Eve the gun.”
Gigi couldn’t help glancing at Knox, who didn’t even blink. This had to hit close to home for him. Eve had made Slate bleed—a Calla Thorp style good-bye.
“Eve just stood there, holding the gun for a second or two, and then she turned toward me.” Slate’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I knew what she’d been told to do.”
“Calla made her do it.” That was Knox.
“Pretty sure Eve was aiming for the outside of my shoulder.” Slate shook his head. “She has a bad habit of skewing down and to the right. Either way, the bullet passed straight through. Flesh wound. I went down, and by the time I’d clawed my way back up, Eve and her hooded friend were gone.”
“You tried to go after them, didn’t you?” Gigi studied Mattias Slater for a moment. “Before you even bandaged yourself. You looked for Eve.”
“I found the tracker she was supposed to keep on her.” Slate swallowed, like the pain was finally hitting him—that, or the bourbon was. “She also left me these.”
With visible effort, Slate reached the fingers on his free hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out five metal coins and what looked to be a note. Gigi reached out to take one of the coins from Slate’s palm. She recognized the design—a metal disk with concentric circles. She’d seen Eve brandish one at Slate once before.
How many of these is it going to take, Eve had asked Slate,to make you mine again?
