Deadly Sting by Jennifer Estep Read Free Book Online Page A

feeling I’d had ever since my dream a few nights ago crept back up to the surface of my mind. This time, I didn’t try to push it away or ignore it. I’d stayed alive this long by being paranoid, and something just wasn’t right here.
    Finn and I stepped up to the giant working the door. She was dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that showed off her strong, toned curves, and I saw more than one person admiring her tall, lithe figure. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a sleek French braid, but the simple style only enhanced her hazel eyes and great cheekbones. A small gold nametag on her jacket read Opal .
    Opal seemed to be one of the folks in charge, judging from the way the other giants deferred to her and how they raced up to whisper questions in her ear and draw her attention in this or that direction. Finally, she managed to look at Finn’s invitation, hand it back to him, and check him off the guest list. She glanced at me, ready to mark me off as his plus-one, and froze.
    Opal’s eyes widened, her breath puffed out of her mouth, and her body completely stilled. While it only took her a second to recover, blink away her surprise, and plaster a bland smile on her face, her reaction ratcheted up my unease.
    “Please proceed into the main exhibit area,” she said in a low, smooth voice. “Everything’s been set up in there.”
    “Thank you, Opal,” Finn replied, and gave her one of his patented charming smiles.
    She tipped her head at him and gave me a polite nod, although her sharp gaze lingered on my face a few seconds longer than it should have.
    Finn pouted a little when he realized that he didn’t have her full attention and that she wasn’t going to fawn all over him like most women did, but he tucked his invitation back into his tuxedo jacket. I took his arm again, and we headed toward the entrance. All the while, though, I was aware of the giant at my back. I didn’t like having people behind me, and my palms began to burn with the desire to reach for one of my knives, put it up against her throat, and demand to know what she was staring at.
    Instead, I turned and smiled at Finn, as though he had said something amusing, allowing my eyes to slide past him to Opal.
    “She’s watching me,” I murmured. “There’s a line of people in front of her waiting to get inside, and she’s watching me walk away instead of dealing with them.”
    Finn shrugged. “Maybe she likes women instead of men. You do look rather fetching tonight. Or maybe she recognized you as the mighty Spider. Infamy, thy name is Gin Blanco.”
    I grimaced at his flippant tone, but he had a point. Opal wouldn’t be the first person to freeze up upon realizing who I was. So I put her out of my mind and looked ahead once more.
    Still, I couldn’t quite ignore the itching sensation between my shoulders—like someone was going to bury a knife in my back before the night was through.
    * * *
    Finn and I walked up the shallow steps and entered the museum. High, vaulted ceilings, crystal vases full of roses, lilies, and other greenery perched here and there, stone planters bristling with bonsai trees tucked into the corners, slick marble floors and walls: Briartop was just as opulent inside as it was on the outside. Everywhere you turned there was another piece of art to look at, whether it was a series of soft, floral watercolors, a silver etching of a waterfall tumbling over a rocky ridge, or a woodcut of a bear ambling through a field of wildflowers.
    We reached the main exhibit area and stood to one side of the entrance, scanning the scene. The enormous room was actually a rotunda topped by a high, domed ceiling inlaid with a starlike mosaic pattern made out of bright blue stained glass. The same pattern could be found on the floor directly below in alternating shades of gray, white, and blue marble. Small white lights had been wrapped around the columns ringing the round room, and the glowing strands stretched from the ground floor