Footsteps sounded, rattling into the rotunda, and we all tensed. A moment later, Clementine appeared at the main entrance, followed by Opal and Dixon. She whispered something to one of the giants standing guard, then stared at the hostages. She plastered a pleasant smile on her face, stepped forward, and addressed the crowd once more.

“I thought it was about time to come and give you ladies and gentlemen an update,” she said. “My boys and I are almost through loading up all of our lovely new art, so we’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I’m sure that will come as a relief to all of you.”

Most of those in the rotunda let out a collective sigh, although they still regarded her with cold, wary suspicion. This was Ashland, after all, the city where double-, triple-, and even quadruple-crosses were a daily occurrence. The hostages knew that they wouldn’t be truly safe until Clementine and her crew were either gone or dead.

“But before we wrap up our last bit of business here, I need to call upon the services of one more person,” Clementine said. “Eva Grayson.”

Eva gasped, as startled by the request as everyone else was.

If it wouldn’t have given away our position, I would have opened my mouth and let loose with all the loud, blistering curses that burned on the end of my tongue. Damn and double damn—and then some. I’d hoped my bluff about Owen being dead would have persuaded Clementine to leave my friends alone, but it seemed like she hadn’t bought my story after all. I wondered if she’d finally figured out that she’d killed the wrong woman—that the Spider was still alive.

Either way, there would be no sneaking up on her in the boathouse and stabbing her in the back. No, now that she had Eva, I had to play the game Clementine’s way and approach her head-on, even if it would most likely get me killed in the end.

Clementine gestured at Opal and Dixon, who waded into the crowd of hostages. Dixon grabbed Eva’s arm, hauled her upright, and handed her over to Opal. Finn surged to his feet and lunged for Dixon’s gun, but the giant was ready for him. Dixon slapped his hand away, yanked the gun from its holster, and smashed the weapon into Finn’s face.

Crack.

Finn fell on his ass, a dazed expression on his face and blood gushing from a cut on his forehead.

“Not so mouthy now, are you, pretty boy?” Dixon sneered.

“Do me a favor,” Finn said, shaking off his daze and wincing as he touched his cut. “Hit me with the gun again instead of your hand. It’s probably cleaner.”