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