Unwanted (Elemental Assassin) by Jennifer Estep Read Free Book Online Page B

for her. I should have listened to her and to you too. I will always regret that. I just wish you had told Gin to give me that other letter as soon as Deirdre came to town. The one you wrote to me. But you were hoping that Deirdre had changed, weren’t you? You wanted me to give her a chance. Now people are dead because of your hope and my foolishness. And there’s nothing I can do to change that. There’s nothing I can do to fix it.”
    The emotions rose in me again, as cold, bitter, and caustic as ever. The guilt, the shame, the crushing disappointment at the fact that Deirdre had just been using me the whole time. My chest tightened, and my lungs felt like two chunks of elemental Ice in my chest, as though they had been flash-frozen by my mother’s magic. But I closed my eyes and forced myself to take in slow, deep breaths, riding the wave of emotions until they had subsided to a more manageable level.
    I opened my eyes and stared at Dad’s tombstone. “But most of all, I wish you were still here so I could tell you how sorry I am. For not appreciating you more when you were alive. For not realizing how much you always looked out for me, protected me, loved me. I am the man I am today because of you, and I will always be grateful for that, my mistakes and all.”
    The last few words came out as a soft, raspy whisper, and the wind whistled down the ridge, sweeping them away. But I knew Dad had heard them, wherever he was. And I knew what he would want me to do now. It was the same thing he would have done, if he’d still been here.
    I reached out and placed a hand on the marker, feeling the chill from the stone sink into my skin. But unlike Deirdre’s Ice magic, this cold didn’t bother me. If anything, it grounded me and cleared my mind. Maybe even my heart a little too. I traced my fingers over his name, then got to my feet.
    “I’ll come back one day soon, and we’ll talk some more,” I said. “But right now, I’ve got a hot date with a dangerous giant.”
    I tipped my head at his marker one more time before sliding my hands into my coat pockets and walking away.

 6 
    I went back to my car and opened the trunk, getting ready to face off against Bart the Butcher.
    The first thing I did was strip off my coat and suit, despite the fact that it was only about thirty degrees outside. I knew that any confrontation with Bart would end only one way—bloody—and I didn’t want to ruin my threads, even if they weren’t as nice as the giant’s. Shivering, I unzipped a duffel bag and quickly put on a black turtleneck sweater, along with some black corduroy pants and heavy-duty boots. A black leather jacket added some more much-needed warmth, along with a black wool cap.
    I checked my gun, making sure that it was still ready to fire, screwed a silencer onto the end of the barrel, and stuck it into my coat pocket. Isabelle might not have close neighbors, but I still wanted to minimize any noise I might make during my confrontation with Bart. Once that was done, I slid some extra clips of ammo into my other coat pocket, along with a set of brass knuckles. Bart had his fancy gold rings, and I wanted something to level the playing field.
    Although if it came to fisticuffs, Bart would most likely beat me to death, given his far greater giant strength. Not the most cheerful thought, but I was too committed to back down now. So I closed the trunk, got into the car, and drove back over to the Vargas place.
    It was just after six o’clock when I parked at the far end of the street, well away from the house. Most of the lights were on, although the cars that had lined the street earlier had all vanished. The mourners had gone home, back to their own lives, leaving Isabelle alone with her son and her grief. Every once in a while, I would see Isabelle through the windows at the front of the house, slowly moving from room to room, throwing away dirty cups and plates, straightening chairs and other furniture, and putting