Elemental Assassin: Unraveled Part 17

"What about Eira Snow? Have you ever heard of her?" I held my breath, hoping, hoping, hoping. . . .

He shook his head again. "Sorry, but that name doesn't ring a bell." He waved his hand at all the photos on the walls. "A lot of people come through here every year. I can't keep track of them all."

It had been a total long shot, that my mother had been here once upon a time and that Ira would remember her out of all the thousands of visitors, but disappointment washed over me all the same. Another dead end.

Still, it wasn't his fault, so I forced myself to smile at him and gestured at the cabin walls. "I've been wondering about your photos. I noticed them in your office. They're quite stunning, especially the scenic shots of the hotel, park, and lake."

For the first time since I'd met him, a genuine smile lit up the dwarf's face, softening his perpetual scowl. "Sweet Sally Sue gave me a camera the very first Christmas that I was here. I've been taking pictures ever since." He glanced around at the photos, his gaze moving from one frame to the next. "Bullet Pointe might be a business, but I like seeing people so happy in the park and hotel. I like taking shots of their memories. It makes me happy to see them having a good time. It means more to me than the money."

I nodded. I felt the same way about the food I served at the Pork Pit. Seeing the enjoyment that other folks got out of my cooking always put a smile on my face. I liked brightening someone's day, even if it was just in the small way of fixing them a good, hearty meal. Ira and I were more alike than I would have thought possible.

"Thank you for saving me. For sticking your neck out for me. Not many people would have done that."

Ira waved his hand, dismissing my thanks. "What was I supposed to do? Let you lay outside and slowly freeze to death?"

I grinned. "Well, I still appreciate it all the same."

As much as I was enjoying sitting here by the warm flames and talking to the dwarf, I stopped rocking and got to my feet. Because time was ticking away, and I needed to get the jewels and figure out how to save my friends before Tucker tortured and killed them.

"What are you going to do now?" Ira asked.

"Go back up to the hotel. That's where the jewels are."

He shook his head. "You'll never make it. Roxy and Brody have everyone looking for you. And you can't get out of the park or the hotel either. They've got all the exits blocked." He waved his hand again. "And it won't be too long before they get the bright idea to come here and look for you."

"Don't worry. I'm leaving. I'm not going to put you in any more danger. You've done enough for me already."

His weathered face creased into another rare grin. "Darling, I don't care about the danger. Helping you and thumbing my nose at Roxy and Brody is the most fun I've had in months. But I'm not about to send you out there to get yourself shot up again."

"What do you mean?"

"You need a disguise, just like you told your friend on the phone."

Ira got to his feet and disappeared into his bedroom. Some clangs and bangs sounded, as though he was rustling around in his closet. He came out a minute later holding up a wire hanger that featured an old-fas.h.i.+oned saloon-girl dress wrapped in clear plastic. Unlike the cheap costumes the performers wore, I could tell that this was the real deal, made of expensive silk, lace, and crinoline.

"This belonged to Sweet Sally Sue herself." Ira smiled at the dress and the memories it brought back. "She was a spitfire, just like you are, and I think that she'd like you wearing it. Especially if it will help you kick Tucker, Roxy, and Brody out of here for good."

I hesitated. I didn't want to wear the dress for fear of ruining it, and Ira's memories along with it, but he was right. I couldn't go outside as Gin Blanco, the outlaw that everyone was searching for. I needed a disguise, and I wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm honored." I took the dress from him.

I held out the garment, and a smile spread across my face as I realized what shade it was.

Bloodred. Always my color.

Ira's cabin might have been relatively tidy, but he had a small shed out back that was just as messy as his hotel office. But instead of stacks of papers, the shed was filled to the brim with all sorts of odds and ends, including shoes, makeup, and even some wigs that the performers had discarded. I grabbed a few things for my disguise, then went back into his bedroom to get ready.

The first thing I had to do was put on a corset.

Seriously, a real, old-fas.h.i.+oned corset complete with whalebones to give it-and me-that cla.s.sic hourgla.s.s shape. The frilly thing was covered with tons of black lace, and it took me a lot of time and a whole lot of effort to s.h.i.+mmy into it. The only saving grace was that the black ribbons laced up the front, instead of the back, but I still cursed whoever had invented such a foul, uncomfortable contraption.

Next up was Sweet Sally Sue's dress. The stiff black crinoline underskirt made the top layers of bloodred silk poof out all around my legs, making me feel like a human bell. On the plus side, the dress had long sleeves that hid the white bandage on my upper left arm, as well as two deep pockets for me to carry my knives. I tucked my other three knives into the garter belt and stockings that went with the dress.

Black shoes with square, chunky heels and ankle straps were next, along with a pair of fingerless, black lace gloves that made the spider rune scars in my palms itch. I also stuffed my spider rune necklace down into my corseted bodice and tied a black velvet ribbon with a red cameo around my throat.

Once my clothes were in place, I donned a blond wig with the long hair done in fat ringlet curls, powdered my face, and painted my lips the same bloodred as the dress. For the final touch, I stuck a small black beauty mark on my left cheek, close to my lips to draw attention away from my eyes, whose gray color I couldn't change.

I looked and felt ridiculous, and I didn't see how the performers endured these costumes day after day during their eight-hour s.h.i.+fts. I'd only had the dress on for ten minutes and I already wanted to tear it off, starting with the corset. It was too bad Finn wasn't here. He would have been cackling with glee at my misery.

The thought of him, Bria, and Owen made my stomach tighten with worry again. Time to get on with things. So I left the bedroom and stepped back out into the main part of the cabin where Ira was sitting in his rocking chair by the fireplace again.

I twirled around for his inspection. "Well? What do you think?"

Ira looked over at me and did a double take. He blinked and blinked, then frowned, studying me carefully.

"What? Did I get lipstick on my teeth or something?"

Ira shook his head. "Nothing like that. You just . . . look like a lady that I remember photographing a long time ago."

"I thought you couldn't remember the names of everyone you photographed."

He shrugged. "Not their names, but I never forget a face."

He got up out of his rocking chair and wandered around the cabin, staring at all the pictures on the walls, searching for the one he wanted. He stopped and shook his head a minute later. "I'm not sure where that photo is. It might be in my office in the hotel."

"Well, maybe I'll duck in there and try to find it," I joked. "If I don't get killed before then."

A distinct possibility since it was just little ole me against Tucker, Roxy, Brody, and all their men.

"You get up to the hotel and get those stones," Ira said. "I'll mosey around the park and see what information I can pick up about Tucker and his plans. Then, when it's time, I'll head over to the main entrance and keep a watch out for that annoying Silvio fella."

I nodded. I'd told Ira that this was my fight, not his, but the dwarf had insisted that this was his home, and if he could help boot Roxy and Brody out of it for good, then he'd do whatever he could to help. So this was the plan we'd come up with. I didn't want Ira around if Tucker and the others did get their hooks in me, and having the dwarf watch out for Silvio would hopefully help my a.s.sistant and whomever else he'd managed to round up in Ashland slip into the park unnoticed.

"All right, then." I headed for the front door. "Wish me luck."

Ira gave me a knowing look. "Oh, I think you're the type who makes her own luck."

"Nah." I grinned. "I just make people dead."

19.

Ira's cabin stood off by itself in a patch of woods that overlooked the lake. He followed me out of the cabin, locking it up behind him, and we went our separate ways. He headed for the main theme-park entrance to see what he could find out from the other workers, while I took a trail that led back out to the staging area, staying hidden behind a screen of trees.

It must have been time for some late-afternoon show because the staging area was full of folks changing into cowboy and gambler costumes, slapping on wigs and makeup, and making sure that their fake weapons were full of blanks. I looked around, but I didn't see Roxy or Brody anywhere, although I did spot several of their outlaw-gang giants, getting ready along with everyone else. But the performers had this down to a science, and the staging area emptied out about five minutes later, as everyone rushed to take their places for the show.

When I was sure that the area was deserted, I slid out from behind a tree and hurried through the wooden pavilions, wanting to get back out to the relative safety of the Main Street crowds as fast as possible. I'd just pa.s.sed the back door of the Good Tyme Saloon when something unexpected on a nearby bulletin board caught my eye.

A Wanted poster with my picture on it.

I stopped and went over for a closer look, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. But they weren't. A grainy black-and-white photo of me that looked like it had been taken from a security camera inside the hotel took up most of the poster, while the word Wanted arched across the top in that old-timey Western font that was on everything around here. Gin Blanco was also done in the same type, curving under my glamour shot, along with the promise of a thousand-dollar reward for any confirmed sightings of me in the hotel or the theme park. Well, that was a bit insulting. You'd think that I'd be worth at least five grand-dead or alive.

My own poster. I grinned. Just what I'd always wanted.

I couldn't help myself. I carefully took the poster down off the bulletin board, rolled it up, and stuck it into one of my dress pockets.

I left the staging area behind and made it through the alley and back out to Main Street. At the far end of the street, down in front of the visitor bleachers, cowboys, gamblers, saloon girls, and other costumed characters were dancing to some old-timey, upbeat country-western music and putting on what looked like an elaborate square dance. I didn't see Roxy or Brody among the performers, though. They were probably still combing the park for me or were maybe even stationed up at the hotel, waiting for me to try to rescue my friends.

The music rose to a roaring crescendo for the big finale, with all the performers yelling, whooping, and throwing their hats up into the air. The crowd surged to its feet, cheering and clapping, and all the performers took a bow. The crowd streamed down the bleachers, and all the costumed characters stepped up to meet them, sign autographs, and pose for pictures. Well, that show had certainly gone a lot smoother than the other two that I'd loused up this weekend.

It was now or never, so I drew in a breath and stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk. I smiled at the people I pa.s.sed, just another worker playing her part, even as every step took me closer and closer to the hotel and the jewels- "Hey! You there!" a loud voice called out behind me. "You in the red dress!"

I tensed. Well, that was definitely me. d.a.m.n. I'd hoped to at least get away from the saloon and closer to the hotel before someone stopped and questioned me. But it would look more suspicious if I ran, so I slowly turned around and plastered a smile on my face.

"Yes?"

Brody Dalton jogged up to me. I slid my hand into my dress pocket, my fingers curling around the silverstone knife inside, ready to whip out the blade, ram it into the giant's throat, pick up my skirts, and run, run, run.

Brody stopped, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He must not have had time to visit that Air healer again because his nose was still a red, broken, lumpy knot in his face from Tucker's beating. Good.

"What do you think you're doing, making me walk all the way over here?" he snapped. "You should have come over to me the second that I yelled at you. Don't you know who I am?"

Even though I wanted to punch him in the face, I ducked my head in apology. "I'm so sorry, sir. I just didn't hear you at first above all the crowd noise."

Brody gave me a suspicious look, like he didn't believe me, but apparently he had other things to worry about. He raised his hand, and I realized that he was holding a thick stack of papers. He peeled a sheet off the top and shoved it into my free hand. It was a copy of my Wanted poster.

"Here. Carry this with you at all times," he snapped again. "And if you see this woman, you text Roxy or me immediately with her location. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I ducked my head again, as though I were studying my own picture. "What did she do?"

"She's a shoplifter and a pickpocket, among other things," the giant growled. "Now get out there and mingle like you're supposed to, and keep a sharp eye out for this one."

I bobbed my head at him. "Yes, sir. I'll get right on that."

Brody gave me another suspicious look, probably because of my syrupy-sweet tone, but he huffed, whirled around, and stomped away. I watched him for a few seconds, but all he did was stop every worker he pa.s.sed, shove one of my Wanted posters at them, and demand that they be on the lookout for me.

The giant hadn't realized that he'd had me within arm's reach. He was going to pay for that later. I would make sure of it.

But right now, I had two jobs-get the jewels and find out where Finn, Bria, and Owen were being held. So I rolled up my second Wanted poster and slipped it inside my pocket right next to the first one. Then I upped the wattage on my smile, turned around, and melted into the crowd of tourists.

It took me thirty minutes to work my way from Main Street up the hill to the hotel, mostly because people kept stopping me and asking me to pose for pictures. I hated every single second of it, but it was my job as an unofficial Bullet Pointe saloon girl, and I didn't want any of the tourists complaining and drawing unwanted attention to me. So I batted my lashes, swished my skirts, and smiled for all the photos. By the time I reached the hotel, my cheeks were aching from holding on to my fake sunny expression for so long.

I slipped into the lobby and stopped, wondering if I would stand out more here than I had in the theme park, but my saloon-girl dress was close enough to the ones that the hotel waitresses wore for me to pa.s.s muster. An empty silver tray was sitting on the corner of the bar, and I casually walked over and swiped it when the bartender's back was turned. People with empty trays always looked like they had places to be, and no one gave me a second glance as I strolled across the lobby, despite the loud click-click-click-click of my heels on the stone floor.

I followed a waitress back into the kitchen, not only because I wanted to blend in with the rest of the staff, but also because I wanted to eavesdrop on the workers. One of them had to know where Tucker was holding Finn, Bria, and Owen. So I pushed through the double doors, stepped into the kitchen, and immediately regretted my decision.

Roxy was here.

She was wearing the same cowgirl costume as before, complete with her red hat and sparkling rhinestone belt buckle. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she was pacing up and down in front of a line of cooks, cowboy waiters, and saloon-girl waitresses. The waitress in front of me scurried to get in line with everyone else, and I had no choice but to follow her.

Roxy finally stopped pacing and raised her hand, clutching another stack of my Wanted posters. How many of those things had they printed up in the last two hours? I hid a grin. I was starting to like this whole wanted-outlaw thing.

"This woman is somewhere on the resort grounds, and we are going to find her," Roxy barked out like a drill sergeant. "From this moment on, you will examine every single guest you serve and compare them to this woman. If you spot her, then you text me immediately with her location. Do you understand me?"

No one said anything, so she increased the volume of her bellow. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am!" we all shouted in unison.

She went down the line of us, shoving a Wanted poster into every person's hands. Not only that, but she looked over each and every worker in turn, eyeing everything from their hats to their costumes to their boots. I started sweating, and not from the heat of the stoves.

If she recognized me, I was dead.

I couldn't fight my way through all the people in this cramped, crowded s.p.a.ce, much less get past Roxy herself before she pumped me full of Fire-coated bullets. The workers would all pile on top of me, drag me down to the floor, and hold me there until Roxy could summon Tucker to deal with me. Then I'd either be trussed up and tortured alongside my friends or be killed outright.

But I couldn't run away. Not now when she was shoving a poster into my hands. Roxy started to turn away, then stopped and peered at me with sharp, critical eyes. My free hand slid into my dress pocket, reaching for my knife again. I'd only have one chance to take her down, and I had to make it count- Roxy stepped forward, took hold of my dress, and actually yanked it down, showing off more of my cleavage. My spider rune necklace s.h.i.+fted inside the corset, swimming up toward the top, and I immediately quit breathing, not wanting the necklace to pop out and give me away.

"You can afford to show a little more skin," Roxy snapped. "That's what gets you-and me-better tips. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I squeaked out in a high voice, still trying not to breathe.

She eyed me as if she thought that I was mocking her, but I lowered my head, as if I were too scared not to give in to her demands. After several long seconds, she finally nodded and moved away from me, barking out more orders to the staff.

I sucked in a breath and discreetly stuffed my necklace back down where it had been before.

Roxy kept bellowing out commands, and all the waitstaff had to line up again, fill our trays with champagne gla.s.ses, and circulate them through the lobby to the guests. I was all too happy to step up, put the gla.s.ses on my tray, and skedaddle out of the kitchen.

Carrying my tray of drinks, I hurried out of the kitchen as fast as I could without actually running. I thought about setting the tray down on the first table that I pa.s.sed and just walking away, but I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Roxy was now standing by the bar, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the staff, including me, just to make sure that we were up to her p.i.m.p.i.sh standards.

So I smiled and sashayed over to a group of guys sitting in the rocking chairs in front of the fireplace. I even leaned over, giving them a good, long look at my cleavage, once again hoping that my spider rune necklace wouldn't pop out and land in one of their laps. The men all grinned, their gazes locked on my chest, even as they reached for the champagne flutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roxy nod her head in approval, thinking that I was sufficiently cowed, and turn her attention to another waitress.

I handed out all the drinks on my tray, went back into the kitchen, and got another round. By the time I stepped back out into the lobby, Roxy had decided that the staff was up to snuff and was standing off by herself beside some of the decorated Christmas trees.

I glanced around, but I didn't see Brody or any of the other giants. If not for all the tourists, this would be the perfect moment to pull my knife out of my dress pocket, sidle over to Roxy, and stab the b.i.t.c.h in the back. Despite the potential witnesses and collateral damage, I still seriously considered it, wanting to eliminate at least one dangerous enemy, and I even went so far as to take a step in her direction- A man walked in front of me, making me pull up short to keep from spilling all the drinks on my tray. Even then, the gla.s.ses wobbled dangerously, making the champagne inside fizz and froth up.

I opened my mouth to snap at the guy to watch where he was going, but he glanced at me, and I realized that it was Hugh Tucker. So I quickly turned to my side, angling my face away from him, as though I were still trying to get my tray of wobbling drinks under control.