By a Thread (9 page)

“Detective Donovan Caine,” he murmured, shaking her hand.

Bria nodded, like the name actually meant something to her. “I took your job in the Ashland Police Department, and you took mine in Savannah. We never met in person, but we spoke on the phone a few times, working out the details of the switch.”

“Of course,” Donovan said, recognition filling his face. “I remember you now. I did work in Savannah for a while before transferring out here to Blue Marsh.”

This time, I was the one who blinked in surprise. When Donovan had left Ashland, he'd made it perfectly clear that he wanted to disappear and never see me again. So I'd tried not to think too much about where he'd gone, and I hadn't tried to find him, although Finn had volunteered to hunt him down and kneecap him for hurting me. Turns out, the detective had been closer than I realized this whole time. He'd taken Bria's place down here to get away from me, his troublesome assassin lover, and she'd assumed his job up in Ashland to try to find me, her long-lost sister. Ah,
the irony. Kicking me in the teeth just as usual.

“You're a detective, and you're here with Gin?” Donovan asked, a suspicious note creeping into his voice.

Bria's face tightened. She realized what he was really asking just like I did—if Bria knew I was the Spider.

Her eyes frosted over, and she put on her hard, flat cop face. “Of course. Gin's my sister. We were just telling Callie about Gin's . . .”

“Security business,” I finished in a helpful tone.

Bria gave me a look that said it would be a very good idea for me to shut the hell up right now. “Yes, her
security business
, when you arrived, Detective.”

Donovan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, something he'd done more than once when I was around. Even now, after all these months, the dark, caustic sound still felt like a knife twisting in my stomach.

“Donovan?” Callie asked, laying her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

He turned to her. “I'm sorry. It's just been a long day, and I was so worried when I got the call about the fight here. Are you all right? Did anyone hurt you?”

“I'm fine, really. Gin made sure that those men didn't harm me or anyone else.”

Donovan didn't look at me. “I'm glad.”

Callie wrapped her arms around Donovan. The two of them shared a soft, gentle kiss; then he pulled her into a tight embrace, sliding his arms across her back and burying his face in her neck. The diamond ring on Callie's finger winked at me like a cold, mocking eye, and I finally put two and two together. Took me long enough.

Callie had mentioned that
her fiancé was a cop and had asked the bartender to call him. I'd just never expected it to be
my
cop. Or my ex-cop. Or whatever the hell Donovan Caine was to me now.

Callie was Donovan's fiancée. The thought rattled around inside my head, echoing over and over again. Of course she was. If I'd thought the irony of the situation had merely been kicking me before, it was now laying a full-body smackdown on me, concentrating on my bruised ego and battered pride—and maybe my wounded heart too.

I felt as though a giant had just sucker punched me, but I kept my face cold, smooth, remote, and impassive. Hiding my true feelings was one of the first things Fletcher had taught me when he'd started training me to be an assassin—even if I wasn't quite sure what those feelings were right now. Anger, longing, regret, attraction. They were all a big jumbled mess inside me, tiny barbed threads that pulled my emotions first one way, then the other, until everything was twisted, tangled, and snarled beyond all comprehension.

Donovan and Callie broke apart, although he kept one arm around her waist, holding her close to his side, something he'd never done with me—not even once. He hadn't been able to get away from me fast enough whenever we were together.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Donovan asked in a quiet voice, finally looking at me. “And why you're in Blue Marsh?”

“Bria and I are here on vacation,” I said in an even tone. “Her idea. We drove down from Ashland earlier today. Callie and Bria are old friends, and Bria wanted to stop and catch up with
her. We were finishing our dinner when those two clowns showed up and started threatening Callie. Things were getting ugly, so I made sure the good girl won, just like I always do. End of story.”

“You should have seen her, Donovan,” Callie said, a bit of awe creeping into her voice. “It was amazing the way that she took those two guys down all by herself. Especially that giant.”

“I just bet it was,” he muttered.

“I told them about Stu's murder and Randall Dekes and how the vampire's been pressuring me to sell my restaurant to him.” Callie hesitated. “Right before you showed up, Gin was telling me that maybe she could figure out a way to get Dekes to stop harassing us. To get him to leave us alone—for good.”

Donovan's face hardened, and his golden eyes sparked with anger. “Absolutely not,” he growled. “I told you. I'll handle Dekes. I'll get him to back off. What happened to Stu won't happen to you. I promise you that.”

Callie frowned at her fiancé, obviously wondering at his sudden show of temper. “You've said yourself that Dekes thinks that he's above the law. That he gives too much money to too many people for anyone to want to rock the boat. So far, you've been right. The cops haven't even questioned him about Stu's death. So if Gin can help, then why not let her?”

“Because I don't exactly do things by the book or even by the law,” I said. “And you know how Donovan is—he's such a stickler for the rules.”

Donovan opened his mouth to say something, probably to call me out for mocking him, when Pete let out a low groan on the floor.
A few seconds later, Trent rolled over onto his side and started to come to as well. Bria helped Donovan prop them both up in chairs and handcuff them; then Donovan called some of his fellow boys in blue to come haul them off to the nearest jail.

Bria and Donovan moved to the other end of the bar, talking to each other cop-to-cop, while Callie grabbed a broom from the corner and started sweeping up all the broken glass. That left me to lean against the bar and keep an eye on the bad guys.

After staring at me for the better part of two minutes, his face red with rage, Pete finally opened his mouth. But before he could speak, I casually palmed one of my silverstone knives and started flipping it end over end in my hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I know exactly what you're going to say. I'm a bitch, this isn't over, and I'll be seeing you again real soon. If I had a dollar for every time I'd heard that, I'd be even richer than I already am.”

Pete kept glaring at me, so I leaned forward so that my face was level with his.

“Trust me, dude,” I said, letting him see the cold violence that always lurked just below the surface of my wintry eyes. “You do not know who you are messing with, and you do not want to find out. Do yourself a favor. When your boss Dekes springs you from the pokey, tell him that Callie Reyes is off-limits and to find somewhere else to build his fancy resort—or he will be sorry that he didn't. You got that?”

“Yeah,” Pete muttered. “I got it.”

Maybe I was still feeling tired, maybe I wanted to limit the mess I made down here, or maybe I was still hoping to salvage some part of
my much-needed vacation, but I was giving Pete and his boss a chance to walk away before things got any bloodier. I doubted that either one of them would take me up on my generosity, though. Still, it was more than I normally would have done. If they persisted with things, well, what happened would be on them, not me.

The po-po arrived soon after that, their blue and white lights flashing in the parking lot and casting garish shadows into the restaurant. Bria stayed inside to say her good-byes to Callie, but I followed Donovan outside and watched him and two other cops load Pete and Trent into the back of a squad car. The two cops got into the front of the vehicle and pulled out of the lot.

“How long will it take Dekes to bail them out?” I asked Donovan.

He watched the blue and white lights fade away. “Not long enough.”

“That's what I thought.”

We didn't speak for a minute. A breeze blew in from off the ocean, plastering Donovan's suit to his side and outlining his firm body. He stared out into the semidarkness as though the night held all the answers to his questions. I could have told him not to bother, that the shadows only whispered of lies, when they bothered to speak at all, but he wouldn't have listened to me. He never had. Not before. Not about anything that had really mattered.

Still, I'd felt something for him once and I hoped that he had for me. I owed him something for that, even if I knew that he would probably reject me just the way he always did.

“You know, my offer still
stands,” I finally said.

“And what offer is that?”

I didn't know if it was intentional or not, but his voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, and his eyes glimmered like pure gold in his strong face. I realized that we were alone for the first time all night—and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I wasn't good with feelings. I never had been, and everything that I'd seen and done as the Spider had only made me guard my heart that much more carefully. The more you cared about someone, the more and the easier they could hurt you, whether it was with words, actions, or the lack thereof. But I'd thought that Donovan had potential, that
we
had potential, so I'd opened myself up to him, or at least tried to. But he'd turned his back on me and walked away with no hesitation and seemingly no regrets. Donovan's leaving had hurt me far more than I'd let on to anyone—even Owen.

“To help Callie with Randall Dekes. To get him to back off—or else.”

“I thought you were retired.”

The old, sharp accusation flared in Donovan's voice, and it surprised me how much it still stung to realize just how little he thought of me.

I shrugged. “Assassins don't ever really retire. But eventually, some of us decide to use our particular skill set for things besides killing people for money. Better things. That's what I'm doing these days.”

“Really? Is that what you did to Mab Monroe?” Donovan asked. “I heard, you know. About an assassin named the Spider killing Mab
a few weeks ago in Ashland. Was that one of your better deeds?”

“No,” I said. “Mab was personal, and the bitch got exactly what was coming to her.”

Donovan shook his head and let out another laugh—that hard, caustic, bitter laugh that felt like acid eating away at me. After a moment, he looked at me again, his face remote, his eyes cold.

“Stay away from me, and stay the hell away from Callie. I'll keep her safe from Dekes. I don't need your help, Gin,” Donovan snarled. “I didn't back in Ashland, and I certainly don't now. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I got it.”

Donovan glared at me another second before he stalked into the restaurant, turning his back on me—again.

6

Bria came outside a few minutes
later, and we drove back to the Blue Sands hotel in silence. It was still early, not quite nine o'clock, but we both went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Pulling robes and pajamas out of our suitcases. Laying out clothes for tomorrow. Showering.

Eventually, I wound up on the patio, staring out at the endless black sea from three stories up. A light, steady breeze blew in off the ocean, carrying the tang of salt and sand with it. It was full dark now, but the night was warm, pleasantly so, and the humidity felt like a welcoming hug instead of the hot, suffocating embrace of earlier in the day. The silvery moon was as big and bright as I'd ever seen it, and the stars burned with pure, white light, like they were seconds away from falling from the sky. All around me, the stone of the hotel drowsily whispered of another day of fun in the sun
and the promise of more of the same tomorrow.