"No," I said. "It's not over. It's just getting started. I'm going after Mab. Her whole organization, all her flunkies, all the officials and cops she's got in her pocket. And when I've chipped away enough of her protective shell, then I'm going after her."
Owen stared at me. "And why do you want to do all that, Gin? Why would you risk yourself like that? What did Mab do to you?"
I drew in a deep breath. "The bitch murdered my family. Among other things."
I didn't say anything else. Didn't give Owen the details of my family's murder or who I really was or the fact that Mab had her sights set on killing Bria for magic that she didn't even have. I just wasn't ready to reveal that much of myself to him. Not now, maybe not ever. If Owen even gave me that kind of chance. If he even gave us that kind of chance.
I drew in another breath and readied myself for the rest of my speech. Because as enjoyable as our time together in the shower had been, great sex wasn't enough for me to put Owen in danger-not the kind of danger that Mab Monroe presented.
"This morning was wonderful," I said. "But given what I did last night, given what I plan to do in the coming weeks, if you don't want things to go any further between us, I'll understand, Owen. Going after Mab and her organization will be dangerous, not only for me but for the people I care about as well. Because if Mab finds out who I am before I want her to, she'll come after everyone I know with everything she's got. I know you have Eva to think about. Believe me, I know how important sisters can be, how important Eva is to you. I'll understand if you don't want to take the risk."
Owen stared at me for several seconds, his eyes dark in his strong face. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big boy, Gin. I can take care of myself. Eva too. I've been doing it most of my adult life. Besides," his mouth twisted. "Your family isn't the only one that Mab killed."
A pain I was all too familiar with filled his face. I reached over and put my hand on top of his. "Oh, Owen. I'm so sorry. How did it happen?"
He shrugged. "My father was a gambler. He got in too deep to a bookie who worked for Mab. My father was a big, strong guy. The bookie was scared of him, so he called in Mab for reinforcement. She torched our house with the four of us in it to send a message to the bookie's other customers to pay up-or else. Eva and I got out. Our parents didn't."
Owen lapsed into silence, lost in his fiery memories of the past. We just sat there, my hand on top of Owen's larger one. We didn't say anything for almost a minute.
"So whatever you want to do, however you want to fight Mab Monroe, I'm with you," Owen finally said in a low voice. "Because the bitch killed my parents too. But mainly because I'm falling for you, Gin. I know what you do, what kind of violence you're capable of. But also, I know what kind of woman you are."
His words startled me more than anything had in a long time. "And what kind of woman would that be?"
Owen stared at me. "Someone who's passionate and full of life. Someone who's funny and smart. But mostly, someone who'll do whatever the fuck it takes to protect the people she cares about. That's what I like about you, Gin. That's what I admire about you. That's what draws me to you." His mouth quirked up in a smile. "Well, that and the knives. Did I ever mention that I think weapons are sexy?"
A warm, soft feeling blossomed in my chest, a little tingle of possibilities, of what could be between Owen and me-something far greater than I'd ever dreamed of.
At his suggestive tone, I arched an eyebrow, got up, and sat down in his lap. "Weapons are sexy, huh?" I whispered, my lips just touching his. "Care to frisk me to see if I'm carrying any right now?"
Owen's eyes glittered with violet desire. "I'd love to."
A minute later, Eva Grayson walked into the kitchen in her flannel pajamas to find Owen and me still kissing-among other more prurient things. She immediately clapped her hand over her eyes and started backing out of the kitchen.
"Oops! Owen, sorry, I didn't realize that you had an overnight guest-" Eva peered through her fingers at me. "Wait a minute. Gin? Is that you?"
I pulled my robe closed. "In the flesh."
Eva's eyes narrowed, and she looked from me to her brother and back again. "A sleepover. Cozy." Her gaze flicked to the food on the table. "I take it you're staying through breakfast then?"
I stared at Owen. "Yeah," I said. "I think I'll be here awhile."
Three days later, just after eleven, I was back at the Pork Pit, sitting behind the cash register reading the morning edition of the Ashland Trumpet. The headline across the front page read Police still searching for vigilante. The story was yet another follow-up piece about the events that had transpired at Elliot Slater's mountain mansion.
"Well, at least they're not calling you an assassin," Finnegan Lane said, reading the headline upside down.
Finn was taking a break from his banking to have an early lunch at the Pork Pit before the usual noontime crowd hit. Sophia Deveraux had already poured Finn his second cup of chicory coffee and was brewing him another pot to take back to the bank.
I shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before it spins the other way and I'm back to being a cold-blooded killer."
"We'll see," Finn replied. "It might take longer than you think."
"Why do you say that?"
"I've had my ear on the underground buzz," Finn replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Word is that Mab Monroe is looking high and low for you and that she's got all her boys and girls on red alert. But there are also a lot of other people who are interested in seeing if you can pull it off. If you can actually take down Mab and her organization. Obviously, the other power players in town are extremely interested in the outcome. Phillip Kincaid being the most vocal of those. But there are lots of little folks talking too, moms and pops that have felt Mab's heat over the years. You've got the beginnings of a major fan base out there."
"Great," I replied in a wry tone. "Just what I need. Celebrity."
"It can have its uses," Finn replied.
The bell over the front door chimed, and my first real customer of the day strolled in-Roslyn Phillips. Today the vamp wore an elegant lavender sweater over a pair of slim-fitting, gray wool pants. A bit of matching lipstick brightened her beautiful face, and her silver glasses flashed in the morning sunlight. You'd never know by looking at her that Roslyn had almost been beaten to death. Thanks to Jo-Jo Deveraux's healing skills, the vamp had completely recovered from her ordeal at the hands of Elliot Slater. On the outside, at least.
I knew that Roslyn would always bear the scars on the inside-raw, bloody wounds that would scab over but perhaps never fully heal. My heart still ached for the vampire and everything that she had been through because of me, and I knew that it always would. If I could have, I would have killed Elliot Slater for her all over again. And again. And again.
But Roslyn seemed to be holding her own. And Finn had told me that Sophia, of all people, had talked at length to the vamp about what had happened to her. Finn didn't know any of the details, but he said that whatever Sophia had told Roslyn, it had seemed to help the other woman. The vamp certainly looked more like her old, confident, sophisticated self today than she had the last time I'd seen her-bloody in the back of a police car while everyone gawked at her.
Whether she realized it herself or not, Roslyn Phillips was one of the strongest people that I'd ever had the pleasure to know. And one day, I hoped she would do me the honor of calling me her friend, despite the hell that I was partially responsible for inflicting on her. I hoped Roslyn could forgive me for it someday-even though I knew that I'd never forgive myself.
Roslyn came over to the counter, sat down next to Finn, and smiled at the two of us. "Gin, Finn." The vampire leaned forward and waved her hand at Sophia.
"Hmph." Sophia returned Roslyn's greeting with her usual grunt, but the Goth dwarf flashed the vampire a tiny smile before turning back to the coffeepot.
"Roslyn," I said. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm just here to meet Xavier for lunch."
I raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't resist my cooking?"
Another small smile tugged her lips, though it didn't quite banish the dark shadows in her eyes. "Something like that."
We sat and chatted about nothing of consequence. We all knew that it was too soon to talk about anything else, and I didn't want to do or say anything to upset Roslyn.
So Roslyn told us that her sister Lisa and her niece Catherine had finally returned from their beach vacation now that Elliot Slater was dead and the coast was clear, so to speak. She promised to bring them by sometime. I told the vamp that any meal with her family at the Pork Pit was on the house.
About five minutes after Roslyn arrived, the bell over the front door chimed again, and Xavier walked inside. The giant headed straight for Roslyn, and the two of them smiled at each other, their feelings shining in their eyes for everyone to see.
"Excuse us," Roslyn said, following Xavier over to one of the booths by the windows.
I watched the two of them. Xavier was careful with Roslyn, not getting too close to her, putting his hand next to hers on top of the table, but not actually touching her. For her part, Roslyn made an effort, looking straight at the giant, not taking her hand off the table when he edged his a little closer to hers. It was still a work in progress, but somehow I thought they would be okay, despite the last few horrible days the two of them had been through.
Xavier hadn't come to the restaurant by himself. About two minutes later, Detective Bria Coolidge walked through the front door of the Pork Pit. My sister wore her usual long navy coat over a sweater, jeans, and boots. Her gold detective's badge glinted on the waistband of her jeans. Bria waved at Xavier and Roslyn, then sat in a booth by herself in the back of the restaurant to give the couple their privacy. Bria picked up the menu on the tabletop and began to read it.
Finn nudged me with his hand. "Go talk to her," he whispered. "You have to start somewhere with her, Gin. Or else everything we've gone through, everything we're going to do is for nothing."
I stared across the restaurant at my sister. So close, yet so far away. But Finn was right. I had to start somewhere with Bria. There'd been enough antagonism and lies between us already. I wanted to establish some sort of friendly relationship between us, wanted a fresh slate to at least try to get to know my sister. Might as well try to start wiping away the grime today.
I looked at Finn with his bright green eyes. "Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you're right?"
Finn just smirked into his coffee cup.
I rolled my eyes at him, then got to my feet and walked back to her booth.
"Hello, detective," I said in a pleasant voice.
Bria looked up at me and nodded her head. "Ms. Blanco."
"Please, call me Gin," I replied. "Everyone does."
She stared at me a moment longer, then nodded. "All right. Gin. Like the liquor, right?"
I blinked. That was usually my line when I was telling people my name. "Yeah. Where did you hear that?"
She shrugged. "Xavier told me you spell it like that. Seemed like an easy way to remember it."
"Sure." I pulled my pen and pad out of my back pocket. "So what can I get you?"
Bria bit her lip and looked at me. "Actually, I'm here to eat a bit of crow. That's why I tagged along with Xavier today. I was hard on you the last time we talked, and I just wanted to apologize. Roslyn told me that you were just trying to help her, that you really had no idea where she was or what was happening to her. I'm sorry if I upset you."
I waved my hand. "Bygones, detective. Elliot Slater got what he deserved, and Roslyn is safe now, as you can see."
Bria's blue eyes flicked to Roslyn and Xavier, who had their heads close together and were talking softly to each other.
"Any clues as to this person who killed him?" I asked. Finn had his ways of getting information, and I had mine. "What are they calling him again?"
"Her," Bria corrected in an absent tone. "It's a her. The press is calling her the Spider, because of the rune that she left at the crime scene. The one carved into the wood and stone on Elliot Slater's mountain mansion."
For a moment, Bria stared out the window, watching the flow of pedestrians and traffic on the cold street. Then she reached down and slowly turned one of the rings on her left index finger around. The top ring. The one stamped with the spider rune. My ring. I wondered what my baby sister was thinking about, what she was remembering, what she was hoping for.
"Well," I replied, cutting into her thoughts. "I hope you catch her."
A grim smile stretched across Bria's face, tightening her beautiful features. "Oh, I'm going to find her, Gin. Make no mistake about that. What I do with her then, well, I don't know just yet." She murmured the last sentence under her breath.
I smiled at her. "Well, I'm sure you'll have better luck on a full stomach. So what can I get you, detective? Everything's on the house today, in honor of Roslyn's recovery."
Bria ordered a cheeseburger with all the fixings and fries. I helped Sophia cook up her order and also grabbed a piece of blackberry cobbler-today's special dessert. Several minutes later, I carried everything back over to the table and put it down.
Bria eyed the pie. "That looks wonderful. Blackberry's my favorite."
