Black Widow (27 page)

“Just like you like it, darling,” she said, winking at me.

I nodded and held the mug between my hands, letting the warmth seep into the spider rune scars in my palms. Then I slowly took a sip, enjoying the decadent richness of the dark chocolate mixed with the frothiness of the melting marshmallows. The sweet concoction slid down my throat, then spread its pleasant heat through my stomach and out into the rest of my body, chasing away the last of the night's lingering chill.

Finn slurped down half his coffee in one gulp, then shook his head. “Only you would think of using boxes of frozen peas to survive a fire. And then hiding in that Dumpster, almost in plain sight, while all the cops and firefighters walked right by you.”

“Believe me, it wasn't by choice,” I muttered. “So what happened on your end? What's been going on?”

Bria looked at Finn and Owen, then at me. “The three of us were at the station for hours, along with Silvio, Sophia, and Xavier, trying to bail you out, but of course not having any luck. Dobson was nowhere to be found, and Xavier texted me to say that he'd heard a rumor that there was going to be a fight in the bull pen. We all knew it was you. But there was no way that we could get to you, not without getting into a firefight in the middle of the station.”

“Which was probably exactly what Madeline wanted,” I murmured.

Finn shot his thumb and forefinger at me. “Winner, winner.”

“So we were trying to figure out a way around the cops,” Bria said. “Then we heard and felt this huge explosion, and I could sense you using your magic.”

“After that, everything was a mess,” Owen chimed in. “Cops shouting and yelling, and everyone inside the station running everywhere. We'd heard that you escaped, but by the time I got your call, and we drove over to the Pork Pit, the restaurant was on fire, and there was no sign of you.”

His voice cracked on the last few words, and his hand tightened around mine. No one said anything for several seconds.

Finn cleared his throat. “After that, it was a lot of running around and screaming at people. We tried to go into the restaurant to find you and get you out of there. But Madeline and Emery were running the show, and they told the cops to keep us back, even if they had to shoot us. So we stayed by the restaurant all night until . . .”

“Until they brought that body out of the back this morning,” Bria said, her voice dropping to a ragged whisper. “Madeline was all too happy to let us see
that
.”

“I heard you scream,” I said. “I was right there the whole time, hiding in that Dumpster next to the back door, watching everything through a hole that had rusted in the side. But my burner phone was broken, so I couldn't text you, and I couldn't get out of the Dumpster and let you know that I was okay. Not with all the cops around. I'm sorry about that—so sorry.”

Bria nodded. So did the others. They understood, but guilt still filled me that I hadn't been able to spare them all that pain.

“So what's your next move?” Xavier asked.

“Yeah,” Phillip chimed in. “Because from what I've already heard, Madeline hasn't wasted any time letting everyone know that she's the reason why you're dead.”

“I had a lot of time to think about that while I was waiting in that Dumpster. And I say we give Madeline exactly what she wants. I say we let her keep right on thinking that I'm good and dead.”

“And then?” Silvio asked.

I smiled at my friends. “And then we give that bitch the surprise of her life.”

*  *  *

We worked out a few of the details, most of which we'd have to wait until the morning to actually get started on, then I went upstairs, took a long, hot shower, and put on a blue, fluffy robe that was patterned with Jo-Jo's white cloud rune.

Most of my friends had left to go back to their own homes to try to get some sleep during what remained of the night, but Owen was waiting for me in one of the spare bedrooms. He'd taken a shower too, and he was lying on the bed, a robe covering his body, trying to relax and recover his equilibrium after all the seesaw emotions of the day. Yeah. Me too.

Owen got to his feet as I entered and shut the door behind me. We stared at each other, his violet eyes locked onto my gray ones, everything so still and quiet that I could hear the grandfather clock in the hall outside
tick-tock
ing off the seconds.

Then, with one thought, we rushed toward each other.

Owen cupped my face in his hands and crushed his
lips to mine in a kiss that was even hotter, harder, and more frantic than the one he'd given me in the kitchen earlier. His tongue plunged into my mouth, rough and demanding, while I fumbled with the belt on his robe, yanking it open so that I could touch all of his warm, solid muscles. I raked my nails down his chest, while he sucked at my neck, tearing off my robe as frantically as I had his. I breathed in, letting the rich, faintly metallic smell of him seep deep down into my lungs, imprinting his scent, taste, and touch on my heart.

Given everything that had happened, we were both too impatient to do our usual slow dance of teasing seduction. Owen stopped kissing me long enough to cover himself with a condom, then picked me up, put my back against the nearest wall, and entered me with one long, hard, smooth thrust. I moaned into his mouth, locked my legs around his waist, and rocked against him, desperate to feel every part of him and to mold my body even tighter to his.

He buried his head between my breasts, his breath hot against my skin, and I tangled my fingers in his silky, black hair, urging him on.

“More,” I whispered in his ear. “More, more, more . . .”

He growled and kissed me again, our tongues thrusting against each other just as our bodies were. We kept moving together the whole time, so hard that the pictures rattled on the wall next to my head. Everything about it was fast, fierce, furious. The pressure, the pleasure, built and built, and our movements became quicker, harder, longer, until we were both groaning at how good it felt. But we both kept going, trying to drive each other to
new heights, trying to give each other more and more pleasure, trying to show just how much we truly cared.

Finally, with one more deep thrust, we both exploded, going over the edge as one, our lips, bodies, and hearts tangled up and bound together more tightly than ever before.

We both shuddered out our release, and Owen slid me down the wall. But instead of grabbing my hand and walking over to the bed, he kept sliding down, down, down, so that we ended up lying on the hardwood floor together.

Owen turned his head to look at me. “I can't feel my legs right now.”

I laughed. “That makes two of us.”

I leaned in and rested my head on his muscled shoulder. His arms closed around me, and he started stroking his fingers through my still-wet hair, down my neck, across my shoulder, and all the way to my wrist before moving back in the opposite direction, then starting the whole cycle over again. I flexed my hand over his heart, feeling its strong, rapid
thump-thump-thump-thump
deep in his chest.

Finally, Owen spoke. “The others kept telling me that you were gone, but I didn't believe it. I couldn't
let
myself believe it.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I'm so sorry that I put you through that.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and we both tightened our grips. For a long time we lay there on the floor and just held each other—because it was more than we'd both thought we'd ever have again.

“You know,” Owen said, a teasing note creeping into his voice as he propped himself up on his elbow, “I think that I've recovered enough to actually stand up and get in bed, if you want to get under the covers to get warm.”

I gently pushed on his shoulders until his back was on the floor. Owen quirked an eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing, so I hooked my leg over his body so that I was straddling him.

“Really?” I asked, sliding my body against his. “You want to waste all that precious time going over to the bed?”

He laughed and pulled me down on top of him.

We didn't make it to the bed until much, much later.

20

I left the salon early the next morning to put the first part of my plan into action. After Jo-Jo helped me get ready, I kissed a sleepy Owen good-bye, promising that I'd be careful, then met Bria outside in the driveway.

I slid into the back of her sedan, lying down across the seat, so no one would realize that someone else was in the vehicle. Sophia had already scouted the perimeter, and she hadn't seen anyone watching the house from the woods or noticed any strange cars parked on the streets farther out in the subdivision. But given Madeline's lingering doubts about my demise, I wouldn't have put it past her to send some spies over here this morning or to have them follow my friends around for the next few days, just to make doubly sure that I was as dead as she hoped I was.

“Are you sure that this is the right move?” Bria asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “It's a big risk,
going down there, especially right now. If someone sees you, then our advantage is gone.”

“It doesn't matter so much if they see me. It's if they recognize me that we'll be in trouble.”

In addition to keeping out of sight, I had also taken the extra but necessary precaution of wearing a disguise—a short blond wig, bright blue contacts, and clear glasses with silver frames. Roslyn had been nice enough to bring me the items from her stash at Northern Aggression, since her workers used the wigs and more to satisfy the fantasies of their clients. She'd also brought over the tight black suit jacket, short, fitted skirt, and towering heels that I was wearing, along with a black patent-leather briefcase. Apparently, some folks were really into the whole corporate-raider look, which I found a bit disturbing, but the suit would get me into practically every building in Ashland, including the one where we were going.

Jo-Jo had done my makeup, adding a bit of bronzing powder to my pale skin and slick plum gloss to my lips. The dwarf had even let me borrow a chunky string of her pearls to wear over the black suit. All put together, I looked like a completely different person—and about as far away from Gin Blanco as I could get.

Oh, if someone who knew me well studied my face for any length of time, she would eventually see through my disguise, but I was betting that wouldn't happen. Everyone would be too focused on Bria to pay much attention to me, the office drone drifting along in their wake.

That was my hope, anyway.

Bria steered her sedan out of the subdivision, through Northtown, and into the downtown loop. Thirty minutes
later, she pulled up to a familiar location—the Ashland Police Station.

She parked in one of the lots close to the impound yard, and I rose up just enough that I could peer out the backseat window. In the distance, wide sheets of cardboard covered the gaping hole that I'd left in the side of the station. I grinned. Madeline might have her faux dedications to Mab, but I'd left my mark on things around here too.

“You ready for this?” Bria asked.

“I'll be behind you all the way, just like we planned,” I said.

“All right, then. Here we go.”

She opened her door, got out, and headed toward the station. I waited a minute, then slipped out of the sedan and followed her. It was early, just after seven in the morning, but people were already moving into the station, coffee, cell phones, and briefcases in hand, getting ready for another long day of all the headaches, paperwork, bribes, and bureaucracy that went along with the Ashland legal system.

I made sure that two people were in between us as Bria and I went through the metal detectors. She didn't look back as I collected my briefcase from the cop working the X-ray machine and started walking behind her.

It had only taken us about two minutes to get through security, but that was enough time for folks to realize that Bria was here. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her, but my sister kept her eyes forward and her head up as she moved deeper into the station. Of course, all the cops had heard about what had supposedly happened to me, and a great number of them had been on the scene at the Pork Pit. But what surprised me was how
many of them stopped her to say how sorry they were for her loss. Some of them actually seemed to mean it.