Widow's Web

18

Salina stood in the doorway, surveying my gin joint. And once again, I was struck by how lovely she was, but her beauty didn’t inspire quite the same awe in me as it had before, especially since Roslyn was here.

Where Roslyn’s beauty was soft, warm, and inviting, Salina’s was hard, cold, and distant. The planes of her face were perfectly proportioned, but the angles were sharp, as though her porcelain skin had been chiseled from marble. Her lips were full and covered with a slick pink gloss, while her eyes were that shifting color somewhere between blue and green. But even they were cold, so cold they reminded me of the glass eyes I’d seen in some dolls not too long ago. Flat, empty, and completely emotionless.

Salina wore a power suit in a bright aquamarine that brought out the beauty of her sun-kissed skin. Matching stilettos covered her dainty feet, and I could see the gleam of her pink pedicure all the way across the restaurant. Her silverstone cuff bracelet—the one with her mermaid rune etched into it—adorned her right wrist. But the expensive clothes and flash of jewelry almost made her seem a little too polished, a little too perfect, like she was made of wax and would melt if you so much as touched her.

The only thing soft about Salina was her hair, which cascaded down her back in rippling blond waves, reminding me of the water she could so easily control. I’d never been one for long hair myself. Too much trouble to take care of and, in my line of work, too much chance of it getting pulled out during a fight to the death.

“Stay right where you are. Act casual, but whatever you do, don’t turn around,” I told Roslyn in a soft voice.

The vampire stiffened. “Salina just walked into the restaurant, didn’t she?”

I nodded. “And since it seems like she’s going around Ashland killing former associates, or at least trying to, I don’t want her to see you and remember you used to visit her father. Okay?”

Roslyn nodded and kept facing the back wall, although she pulled a compact out of her purse, as though she needed to powder her nose. She angled the mirror so she could see behind her.

“Yep,” she murmured. “That’s Salina all right.”

The vamp snapped her compact shut and stuck it back into her purse. “So now what are you going to do?”

I picked up a menu and a glass of water, and gave her a wink. “Why, I’m going to go see what she wants, of course. You know how much I pride myself on my stellar customer service.”

Salina didn’t wait for me or one of the waitstaff to seat her. Instead, she looked around the restaurant a second longer before walking over and sliding into an empty booth by the storefront windows. Then she turned her head in my direction and smiled, a clear invitation for me to come on over.

I looked over my shoulder at Sophia. Roslyn had leaned forward and was talking to the Goth dwarf, quietly filling her in on the situation. Sophia turned in my direction, a clear question in her black eyes, but I shook my head, telling her to stay put. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t kill Salina in the middle of the Pork Pit. My customers and staff might have thought I was the Spider, but it wasn’t like I wanted to palm my knives and give them a demonstration of my deadly skills.

Sophia nodded at me and said something to Roslyn. The vampire slid off her stool and followed her to the back of the restaurant, probably so she could leave through the alley. Once Roslyn and Sophia were out of sight, I plastered my best, easiest, most unconcerned smile on my face and sidled up to Salina’s booth. I put the glass of water down on the table, along with the menu.

“What can I getcha, sugar?”

“Sit down, Gin,” Salina said, a clear command in her voice. “You don’t have to keep up the charade for me. I find charades to be rather tiresome, don’t you?”

I arched an eyebrow at her boldness, but if that was the way she wanted to play things, then that was fine by me. I’d never much liked making nice with or feeding my enemies, even when they were paying for the privilege.

So I slid into the opposite side of the booth from Salina. Up close, she was even more stunning, with a dazzling beauty you just couldn’t look away from. I could see why Owen had been so drawn to her. Hell, I could see why any man would be. The fact that she’d been Owen’s fiancée cut a little deep.

Salina’s eyes flicked over my long-sleeved T-shirt and the blue work apron I always wore whenever I cooked at the Pit. Her pink lips curled up into a faint sneer.

“So you’re Gin Blanco, the assassin known as the Spider,” Salina finally said. “How . . . disappointing.”

I leaned back in my booth, my easy smile still on my face. “And you’re Salina Dubois, the woman who likes to use her water magic to pop people’s eyes out of their skulls. I’d say the disappointment is mutual.”

Bria was right—she was smooth. Salina didn’t bat an eyelash at my words. Didn’t blink, didn’t suck in an indignant breath, didn’t pucker her lips in displeasure or denial. It was like I hadn’t even spoken for all the reaction she showed. Instead, she reached for the glass I’d put in front of her, took a delicate sip of the liquid, and then wrinkled her nose, as if it left a foul taste in her mouth.

“Tap water,” she murmured, carefully setting the glass off to the side. “I should have guessed.”

Yes, Salina was good, but I recognized the misdirection for what it was. She was trying to buy herself a few seconds to decide whether or not to lie to me about what had happened on the Delta Queen. Apparently I wasn’t worth the trouble, because she just shrugged, instead of denying my accusation or placing the blame on Kincaid, like she had with Owen.

Salina seemed a little put out that I wasn’t more upset—or perhaps awed—by her appearance, but she got down to business. “Tell me, how is Phillip feeling? I was going to stop by the riverboat this afternoon, but I was in such a hurry to get over here that I just didn’t have the time.”

I didn’t know what she meant by that, or why she had come here in the first place, but I kept my face just as smooth as hers was. Salina wasn’t the only one who could play this sort of game.

“Kincaid is doing just fine,” I replied in an even tone. “Despite your attempt to kill him.”

Salina shrugged again, as if the fact that I’d just accused her of attempted murder was no more worrisome than a piece of lint sticking to her clothes. Given the obvious time, trouble, and energy she’d put into her appearance, I imagined the lint would bother her more.

“I knew I’d sent Phillip a clear message with Katarina’s death, but I didn’t expect him to be so desperate as to hire an assassin to protect him,” Salina said. “I didn’t think Phillip was that smart. Katarina certainly wasn’t.”

“And what was your problem with Katarina?”

Salina smiled. “Nothing in particular, other than I knew she was friends with Phillip. People should be more careful about the company they keep. It can get them into trouble. Just ask Antonio.”

So I’d been right, and she’d killed the others mostly to hurt Kincaid. Cold and cruel.

“I let Katarina know in advance I was coming for her,” Salina continued, as if that excused murdering the other woman in so gruesome a fashion. “Not that it did her any good. It never does, in the end, when I’m around.”

That sounded exactly like something I would say when talking about my prowess as the Spider. She was cocky, I’d give her that. But then again, given what I’d seen her do to Antonio, she had every right to be.

To my surprise, Salina didn’t radiate magic as strongly as many elementals did. Whenever I’d been around Mab, I’d always felt like there were hundreds of tiny, invisible, red-hot needles stabbing into my skin. But it wasn’t like that with Salina at all. In fact, the only feeling I got from being close to her was a vague sense of cool wetness, like if I reached out and touched her skin, it would feel damp and slick. You didn’t have to radiate magic to be a strong elemental, and Salina had more than enough power to be dangerous—even to me.

Besides, like Jo-Jo always told me, it didn’t matter how much elemental power you had—just what you did with it. Even the weakest elemental could kill the strongest, if the circumstances were right.

“Is that why you’ve come back to Ashland?” I asked. “To settle old scores? Like the one you have with Kincaid?”

Salina let out a small, pealing laugh. “Hardly. I’ll admit it’s been . . . amusing seeing my old . . . friends, but the thrill of that has quickly worn off. I’m here on more serious business. Although make no mistake, I’ll get back to Phillip soon enough.”

“And what business would that be? I assume it’s something that weasel Jonah McAllister is helping you with, since you were with him at Underwood’s.”

Salina smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why, Jonah has just been an absolute dream to work with so far. In fact, we had quite an interesting conversation about you, Gin, after you and Owen left the restaurant. Jonah filled me in on all your many . . . exploits.”

Once again, I cursed McAllister and the day his path had ever crossed mine. It was bad enough the lawyer wanted me dead, but he was determined to make as much trouble for me as he could in the meantime. If he hadn’t known about Salina and Owen before, I was sure he did now—and was delighted by their connection and how it might screw up my relationship. That was just the kind of sneaky, underhanded thing McAllister enjoyed, and he’d have been more than happy to see me suffer on my way to getting dead.

Salina straightened up in her side of the booth. “As to what I’m up to, I see no reason to hide it, not from someone like you, Gin. What I want is simple: to take my rightful place in the Ashland underworld. The place my father held before his unfortunate . . . accident.”

“You mean before Mab Monroe staked him out and barbecued him like a pork chop for all his friends to see,” I replied. “And you too. Pity, dear old dad getting roasted like that right in front of you.”

My words were cruel, heartless even, but I’d meant them to be. So far, nothing I’d said or done had bothered Salina in the slightest, and I wanted to rattle her. I wanted to see the real her and not just the polite mask she’d shown me so far. I needed to see the real her—for all sorts of reasons.

Salina’s left hand went to her silverstone cuff bracelet, and her fingers traced over the mermaid rune almost as if she was thinking about reaching for the water magic stored in the metal and using it against me. Something flashed in her eyes then, some hint of emotion I hadn’t seen her show before. I knew it for what it was, though—rage. Absolute, complete, murderous rage. I wondered who it was directed at. Me, for goading her? Mab, for killing her father? Or maybe even daddy himself for not being strong enough to oust the Fire elemental from her position?

Either way, Salina regained her composure in an instant. The rage slid out of her eyes, she dropped her hand from her bracelet, and that cold, remote smile decorated her face once more.

“Yes, well, that’s all in the past now. What matters is the present and, most important, the future. And both of those are all thanks to you, Gin. In fact, that’s why I came here today. To thank you.”

“For what?”

Her smile widened. “Why, for killing Mab, of course. Naturally, I wanted to do it myself and was even planning my long-awaited return to Ashland when I heard the news that you’d done it for me. And I’m not the only one who’s grateful to you for eliminating her. To hear the whispers, it seems that Ashland is wide open to new . . . business interests now that that horrible Fire elemental isn’t around. I’ve heard several folks talk about expanding their investments here. Why, you practically performed a public service, killing her the way you did.”

I’d jokingly said that sort of thing myself more than once, and I wondered if she was mocking me. But she actually seemed sincere, as though I really had done her a favor. Her and everyone else. It was bad enough every low-life and his higher-ups in Ashland were already gunning for me. I didn’t need out-of-towners adding to the mess too—but that was exactly what Salina was describing. I bit back another curse, wondering just how many more people I was going to have to kill before everyone got the message to leave me alone. Before I could enjoy the retirement and the quiet life Fletcher had wanted for me.

“In fact, I’m going to be hosting a little soiree for my father’s old . . . associates tomorrow night at my estate,” Salina said. “A business dinner, if you will. Consider yourself invited as well. After all, as an assassin, you have as much right to be there as anyone else in Ashland these days.”

I might have inadvertently put myself in the underworld limelight by killing Mab, but I’d rather have eaten raw rattlesnake than attend any sort of event Salina had in mind. Still, I matched her fake politeness smile for smile.

“So I take it you’re back in Ashland for good then?” I asked. “Since you plan on picking up your father’s . . . business interests?”

“It’s my home. And I plan to reclaim what’s mine—everything that’s mine.”

I knew exactly what she was referring to, and she confirmed it a second later without saying a word. Instead, Salina lifted her hand. I tensed, wondering if she was reaching for her water magic to use against me, but all she did was wave at someone through the storefront windows.

“In fact, there he is right now,” she practically purred.

The bell over the door chimed. A sinking feeling filled my stomach, one that only got worse a second later, when Owen stepped into the restaurant.

Owen spotted us immediately, and my lover paused in the doorway, his gaze going from me to Salina and back again. His face was calm and expressionless, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. This wasn’t a meeting he was looking forward to. Couldn’t imagine why.

He wore his usual business suit, this one a dark navy blue, and more than one female customer looked at him in appreciation as he walked over to our table. Salina slid out of the booth, got to her feet, and turned her cheek, expecting a kiss, but Owen only squeezed her hand.

“Salina,” he said. “I’m glad you could make it.”

He’d invited her here? He’d actually asked his former lover, his ex-fiancée, to my restaurant? That bitter, painful jealousy flared up in my chest again, despite my attempts to smother it. But I kept my emotions in check, waiting to see what his reason for this meeting was.

Owen dropped her hand. I moved over, and he sat down next to me. Another flash of emotion flickered across Salina’s face—annoyance this time. I wondered if it was because Owen hadn’t slobbered all over her like she’d expected or because he’d chosen to sit on my side of the booth instead of hers.

But she recovered quickly, plastering a sunny smile on her face. “Of course, darling. You’d know I’d meet you anytime, anywhere. Even . . . here.”

I rolled my eyes. Salina wasn’t the first person to sneer at the hole-in-the-wall atmosphere of my restaurant, but her comment needled me more than most. Or perhaps that was just because of her history with my lover.

Owen raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with here? The Pork Pit has some of the best food in the city.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought you might want to catch up in private.” Salina’s expression turned coy, and she fluttered her lashes.

My lover stared at her for a moment before deliberately reaching over and putting his hand on top of mine.

“We don’t have anything to say to each other that Gin can’t hear,” Owen said in a level tone. “After all, we’re just old friends now.”

I looked at Owen, who gave me a wink and a slow, sexy smile. I threaded my fingers through his and gently squeezed his hand, silently telling him that I appreciated his words and gestures.

Salina’s gaze dropped to our linked fingers. Her smile slipped, and once again, that rage flashed in her eyes momentarily. “Of course,” she murmured, rubbing her fingers against her cuff bracelet again.

She noticed me watching her. Salina’s hand stilled, then dropped from the silverstone once more.

“So,” Owen said, “what have you been up to all these years?”

She gave him another bright, dazzling smile. “Why, darling, I’d thought you’d never ask.”

Salina spent the next ten minutes talking about her travels since she’d left Ashland. Apparently, the water elemental had been living the high life, going from one luxurious spot to the next and enjoying all the fine food and scenery the world had to offer. The one thing she didn’t mention was the trail of dead husbands she’d left behind, their suspicious, water-related deaths, and how they’d all borne an eerie resemblance to Owen.

“And what about Phillip?” Owen asked after she’d finally wound down with her stories of glitz and glamour. “I know what happened on the riverboat.”

Salina didn’t miss a beat justifying her actions. “You know what he did to me, Owen. I was just trying to make sure the bastard got what he deserved—what he should have gotten all those years ago.”

“But Eva was there,” he said. “You scared her, Salina. You scared a lot of people with your water magic. And you killed a man with it—an innocent man.”

He was finally confronting Salina about what she’d done to Antonio, but his tone wasn’t as harsh and accusatory as I would have thought it would be. As I would have liked it to be, truth be told. Instead, Owen was being . . . careful with her. Considerate, even, as if she were some delicate creature who needed shielding from all the ugliness in the world. Almost like he was waiting for her to explain away the whole thing—and hoping that she would. Once again, doubt filled my mind, doubt about Owen’s feelings for Salina—and just how much she really meant to him. That worrisome feeling twisted deeper and deeper into my chest, like I was using one of my own knives to saw through my heart.

Salina leaned forward, her eyes widening with seeming sincerity. “Well, then it was a doubly good thing I was there. You wouldn’t want Phillip to do the same thing to little Eva that he tried to do to me? Would you, Owen?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“And I don’t know why you were so concerned about that giant. The man worked for Phillip, which probably made him just the same sort of heartless bastard. You know what Phillip’s attack did to me, how it drove me to leave Ashland, to leave you. All I wanted was to make things right; all I wanted was to give myself some closure, some peace. You don’t know how hard it’s been on me, coming back home and knowing Phillip is still alive.”

Her voice trembled, her eyes glistened with tears, and her lips quivered, somehow making her look heartbreakingly vulnerable, and that much more beautiful for it. Salina picked up the glass of water I’d brought her earlier and took another sip of it, her hand shaking just a bit, just enough to be noticeable.

A sick, guilty look filled Owen’s eyes, and Salina clearly decided to take advantage of it.

“All I can think about is, what if Phillip comes after me again? Why, I can’t even sleep for worrying about it. I’ve even hired bodyguards to protect me, just in case he tries something.”

Well, that was a clever way to explain her poaching giants from the other underworld figures. Total bullshit, but clever. Salina needed protecting about as much as I did.

“Phillip won’t come after you,” Owen said. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Salina reached over and grabbed his hand, smoothly pulling it away from mine. “Promise me, Owen. Promise me you’ll handle Phillip. The way you should have back then.”

Wow. And I thought I was good with knives. Salina had just pulled a verbal dagger from out of nowhere and buried it in Owen’s chest, then twisted it in for good measure. I could see what Roslyn had meant when she’d called Salina cruel, because that was just what she’d been to my lover, and he didn’t even seem to realize it. Instead, more guilt filled his face, and I knew he was thinking he should have killed Kincaid back then.

I thought about what Bria had said this morning. My sister was right. Salina Dubois was dangerous in a way I’d never expected her to be. She was a skilled actress who instinctively seemed to know what buttons to push to manipulate the people around her. But the truly remarkable thing was that she projected such absolute, utter sincerity as she spun her web of lies, like everyone she’d hurt had done her some grievous wrong and she was just making things right, no matter how horrible and deadly her own actions were. If I hadn’t known better, I might have believed her myself—that was how convincing she was.

Owen opened his mouth, but his cell phone rang, saving him from answering her. He pulled his phone out of his suit jacket and glanced at the screen.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I have to take this.”

He scooted out of the booth, got to his feet, and walked back toward the bathrooms and away from the noise of the storefront. Salina watched him the whole time, a hungry look in her eyes.

“Bravo,” I said, clapping my hands together politely. “That was quite the performance.”

Salina kept staring at Owen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” I scoffed. “Phillip Kincaid never tried to rape you, and we both know it.”

The water elemental’s eyes narrowed, and she finally deigned to look at me again. “Why would you say that?”

Better to let Salina think I’d seen through her lies and focus her attention on me, rather than realize that Eva was finally ready to tell Owen how the water elemental had snowballed him. I didn’t want Eva in any more danger than she already was.

“Because your story? The one you just got all teary-eyed over? It’s complete and utter fiction. I’ve met a lot of liars in my time, but I have to say that you are one of the best. Very impressive. Really.”

Once again, that calculating look flickered across Salina’s face, as she debated whether she wanted to try to work her charm on me. I could have told her not to bother, that I knew anything coming out of her mouth was more than likely either an outright lie or a truth she’d conveniently twisted.

Salina Dubois was every inch the sly, dangerous elemental Eva and Kincaid claimed she was. I wondered if she’d always been this way, as Roslyn seemed to think, or if she’d changed because of her father’s murder, like Owen claimed.

Daddy! No! Daddy! Daddy—

For a moment, Salina’s screams rang in my ears, and I had to breathe in several times to get the phantom, acrid stench of singed skin out of my nose.

It didn’t really matter why or when Salina had become the person she was. The real question was, why hadn’t Owen seen it? Had he been that in love with her? So devoted to her that it had blinded him to what she was really like and how she was manipulating him? The thought made my heart twist once more.

Still, despite my reasons for disliking the water elemental, I couldn’t quite banish the faint echo of her screams. So I decided to give Salina a chance—more of one than she’d given Antonio and Kincaid.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing—with Owen, with Kincaid, with McAllister—but forget it,” I said. “Pack up and leave Ashland while you still can.”

Salina smiled yet again. “Why, Gin, if I didn’t know better, I would say it sounds like you’re threatened by little ole me.”

I snorted. “Hardly. I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.”

The serene smile flickered for a moment then dropped completely off Salina’s face, and the coldness seeped into her eyes, making them glitter like ice.

“And I would suggest you watch your tone with me,” she snapped. “I’m a Dubois. That name means in something in Ashland.”

“Correction,” I snapped back. “That name used to mean something in Ashland. Not anymore. Not for a long time now. And my mother was Eira Snow, one of the strongest Ice elementals this city has ever seen. So I’ve got just as much right to claim this grand old family legacy as you do.”

This time, Salina snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. Just like you’ve apparently convinced yourself that Owen cares about you. Maybe he does, but that won’t last long. He always comes back to me in the end because he loves me—nobody else. I’m Owen’s, and he’s mine. That’s the way it’s always been since the moment we first saw each other, and that’s the way it’s always going to be. You’re deluding yourself to think otherwise.”

I wasn’t the one here with delusions, but once again, I was struck by the utter sincerity in her voice. Despite the fact that Owen couldn’t hear us and she didn’t have to keep up any pretense with me, Salina still radiated wounded honesty. It was almost like she actually believed all the lies she was spouting, that she had rearranged events in her head to create whatever story she liked best, and everything else, including what had really happened, was just plain unimportant.

Or maybe these were truths about her and Owen that I just didn’t want to hear.

At that moment, I couldn’t decide if she was crazy—or if maybe I was.

But I didn’t let her see my doubts. “You really think Owen won’t figure out that you lied about Kincaid? He might not have listened to Kincaid back then, but I’ll make sure that he listens to me now.”

Salina shrugged. “If Owen can bed down with an assassin like you, then I’m sure he can forgive me for anything I’ve done—or will do.”

“I might be an assassin, but I’ve never framed anyone for murder. I’ve never blamed anyone for a crime I committed just to get my way or make things easier on myself. Never tried to, never needed to, never wanted to, but apparently that sort of thing doesn’t bother you.”

Salina shrugged again. “Your opinion doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. The only one I care about is Owen’s, and we all know how . . . forgiving men can be when they see something they want.”

To that, I didn’t have an answer—and we both knew it.

Salina smiled again, gracefully slid out of the booth, and got to her feet. “As lovely as our conversation has been, I’m afraid I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with Jonah and some final preparations to make for my dinner party. I’m so looking forward to reintroducing myself to everyone who matters in Ashland.”

It took a lot to get to me, but there was something ominous about the way she said dinner party that made my skin crawl. I made a mental note to get Finn to check into this shindig Salina was throwing, and to see if he could find out anything about her mental health. It seemed like there was a disconnect going on with Salina, who talked as if framing Kincaid for rape had been of no big consequence and that Owen would just forgive her for doing something so horrible to his best friend, and for killing others.

Once again, I couldn’t decide if she was a master manipulator who was supremely confident in her skills or if she just rearranged things in her own mind to suit the situation. Either way, she knew exactly what she was doing when it came to pushing every single one of Owen’s buttons. But how could she think that he would come back to her after everything she’d done, especially to Eva? If Salina really did have that twisted a view of reality, if she really believed that what she did didn’t matter, then she was even more dangerous than anyone had realized—even me.

“It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Gin. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” Salina said. “Do be a dear and give my regards to Owen, will you? Tell him I’ve been thinking about him for ages now, and I’m looking forward to finally getting reacquainted again after all these long, lonely years apart.”

Her voice was calm, pleasant, as if she’d asked me to say good-bye to Owen instead of let him know that she had set her sights on him again. I wanted to palm one of my knives and drive it straight into her heart, but I restrained myself, especially since the other customers had picked up on the tension between us and were staring at me like they expected me to take her out in the middle of the restaurant.

I entertained the thought but quickly discarded it. I didn’t want to upset my diners.

Not to mention how Owen would react to me murdering his ex-fiancée right in front of him with seemingly no provocation.

Salina was unconcerned by my lack of response. Instead, she waggled her fingers good-bye at Owen, blew him a suggestive kiss, and then sashayed over to the front door and out of the restaurant.

And all I could do was just sit there, watch her go, and wonder how I was going to unravel all the lies this black widow had told Owen—as well as the ones it looked like she was telling herself too.