By a Thread by Jennifer Estep Page B

whether she’d heard my alarm and would come out and investigate, but her door remained closed. Looked like I’d have to deal with our visitors myself. Not a problem.
    I blocked out the stone’s wails, put my ear close to the door, and listened. Right next to me, the brass doorknob softly turned and rattled.
    â€œSorry,” someone muttered on the otherside of the door. “Wrong key. It’s this one, I think. The third time’s the charm, right?”
    So he’d tried two wrong keys already, and that’s what had triggered the protection runes in the stone. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. If he’d used the right key the first time, he might have avoided tripping my silent alarm.
    â€œYou’d better do more than think,” a familiar voice growled. “That bitch skewered my hand like it was a fucking kebab, and I plan on doing the same to her—and worse.”
    So Pete Procter, the guy I’d stabbed earlier at the Sea Breeze, was outside, along with his friend with the keys. But neither one of them were elementals, otherwise they would have heard my alarm and realized they were walking into a trap. Too bad for them.
    â€œAnd Ron, one of the night clerks, told me that sweet little blond piece of ass is in there with her too,” Pete continued. “We’ll have fun taking turns with her. Maybe both of them, all of us, at the same time. There’ll be enough for everyone.”
    Pete laughed at his ugly promise, and I heard a few more sly chuckles chime in with his. Make that more than one friend outside. I smiled in the darkness like an animal baring its fangs. Good. I’d hate to get out of bed just for Pete.
    â€œThere,” the second guy said. “I told you I had the right key. Get ready.”
    A soft snick sounded as the door unlocked. I eased away from it and stepped behind a fake palm tree in a brass pot in the front corner of the suite.
    The door opened a crack, anda pair of bolt cutters slid through the narrow space and caught on the security chain. From my hiding spot, I saw a hand squeeze down on the cutters, which easily sliced through the flimsy metal. Trent, the giant, I thought. He’d have the strength to use the cutters with one hand, and he was probably as pissed at me as Pete was for busting him up earlier. That made at least three guys outside. I wondered how many more Dekes had sent, or if they’d decided to do this on their lonesome. Didn’t much matter. They were all getting dead.
    â€œQuiet now,” Pete whispered. “I don’t want those bitches to know what hit them. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll still catch them in bed and make it that much easier for us. We’ll do the two of them tonight, then go out to the restaurant tomorrow and do the same thing to Reyes.”
    More dark chuckles filled the air, but they weren’t nearly as black as the cold rage that slowly seeped into my body. It was one thing to threaten me—that was part of my job description as the Spider. But nobody— nobody —came after my baby sister and lived to tell about it. Randall Dekes and his men had just made this fight very, very personal.
    The door whispered opened, and light spilled in from the hallway outside. I stayed where I was, hidden behind the potted palm, and let my eyes adjust to the growing brightness. The door opened all the way, and Pete stepped inside the suite. He had on the same garish shirt he’d worn earlier at the Sea Breeze, and his right hand was heavily bandaged where I’d rammed my knife through his palm. That wouldn’t be the only cut he got tonight—notby a long shot.
    Another guy, a short human, slipped in behind him holding a large ring of keys that went jingle-jingle-jingle together.
    â€œQuiet!” Pete hissed.
    The guy stuffed the keys into his pants pocket. He wore the white linen uniform I’d noticed on the valets earlier, which meant that he worked here at the