Widow's Web

2

Silence.

Then Finn let out a loud, unhappy sigh and climbed to his feet.

“Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.”

He stared down at the bright red paint splattered across the black fabric of his suit jacket and gray shirt. Then Finn raised his head and glared at me, his green eyes bright in his ruddy face. I didn’t bother pointing out that the paint had also splashed onto his face and up into his walnut-colored locks. He was just as obsessive about his hair as he was about his suits, and it just wouldn’t do for Finnegan Lane to ever look anything less than perfect.

“I agree with Finn,” Owen rumbled and sat up. “I didn’t think our little experiment would get quite so messy.”

Owen Grayson got to his feet, his chest covered in just as much red paint as Finn’s was. Still, despite his ruined suit, my eyes traced over him, from his blue-black hair to his intense violet eyes to his strong, muscled body. No amount of paint could dampen Owen’s rugged appeal or the way he had of making me feel like I was one of the most important people in the world to him.

I walked over, leaned against the desk, and pointed my paintball gun at Owen. “You should have known better than to let Finn talk you into drinking so much at Northern Aggression. Drunken challenges issued to assassins rarely end well for the challenger. Or challengers, in this case.”

Finn stopped trying to scrub the paint off his shirt long enough to glare at me again.

“As I recall, I wasn’t drinking alone, and you and I had quite a bit of fun later on that night,” Owen said in a husky voice.

“Maybe.” I agreed with a grin. “But Finn was the one who bet me dinner at Underwood’s that I couldn’t kill you both by the end of the month. So you only have yourselves to blame.”

Finn sniffed his displeasure. “You still didn’t have to ruin my suit.”

“No,” I agreed. “I didn’t have to ruin it. That was just an added bonus.”

He narrowed his eyes, but I just gave him my most innocent, gracious, beatific Southern smile.

“Well, it’s getting late, and I’m supposed to head over to Bria’s,” Finn said. “And I obviously can’t go looking like this.”

I rolled my eyes at his put-upon tone, but Owen just laughed.

“Go,” Owen said. “Get cleaned up. We can finish our business tomorrow.”

“Say hi to Bria for me,” I added in a sugary-sweet voice.

Finn grumbled something under his breath about what I could do with certain parts of my anatomy before packing up his papers and briefcase and leaving.

“Well,” Owen said after Finn had shut the office door a little harder than necessary. “You got us both, just like you said you would.”

I grinned again. “That’s what people pay me for. Or used to pay me for.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Good to know retirement hasn’t lessened your skills any.”

I shrugged. We both knew I couldn’t afford to let myself get rusty. Not now, when so many folks in Ashland and beyond would love nothing more than to see me dead. Back in the winter, I’d finally killed Mab Monroe, the Fire elemental who’d run the Ashland underworld for years. Pro-fucking-bono, as it were. Mab had murdered my mother and sister when I was thirteen, and her death had been about revenge to me more than anything else. But the Fire elemental’s demise had left a power vacuum in the city, and now every lowlife and not-so-lowlife was clawing for that power, position, and prestige. Some of them thought the best way to get all that was by killing me, Gin Blanco, the semiretired assassin known as the Spider.

So far, I’d put all the challengers in the ground along with Mab, but they just kept on coming. A few weeks ago, I’d brought up the idea of testing and updating the security at all the places I frequented, including Owen’s home and office. There was no point in making things easy for my would-be murderers. Then Finn had piped up and suggested we make it into a contest—with him and Owen trying to outwit me. Of course, that hadn’t turned out exactly like Finn had planned, but I was happy with the outcome. I always liked to win, no matter the game.

“So give me the rundown,” Owen said. “Exactly how did you get into that air duct?”

I recapped my wanderings through the parking garage, maintenance halls, stairwell, office, and air ducts.

“Overall, your security’s sound,” I said. “All we have to do is fix a few holes here and there, and no one will be able to get to you, me, or anyone else in here without bringing down the whole building.”

His eyes were fixed on mine, but there was a blank look on his face, as though he were only listening to my words with half an ear. I know it wasn’t the most romantic talk, detailing how I’d just paintballed my lover, but this wasn’t the first time he’d spaced out on me in the last few days. Something was on Owen’s mind, and I didn’t know what it was. That concerned me more than I would have liked, especially since I’d given him plenty of openings to tell me what was bothering him—openings he hadn’t taken.

“Owen?”

Something flashed in his eyes then, something that almost looked like worry, but it was gone too quickly for me to pinpoint exactly what it was. He shook his head and focused on me once more.

“Sorry,” he said. “What were you saying?”

Owen shrugged out of his suit jacket, the muscles in his arms and chest bulging with the motion. Suddenly, I was interested in playing something besides a war game. Something that would be far more entertaining and pleasurable—for both of us. Not to mention keep him firmly in the here and now with me. I didn’t like playing second fiddle any more than the next woman did, especially when I didn’t know exactly what was going on with my lover.

Owen started to loosen his tie, but I put the paintball gun down on the desk and strolled over to him. He stopped what he was doing to watch me, and I put an extra shimmy into my hips. Heat sparked in Owen’s gaze—heat that matched the warmth that was flaring up inside me as well.

“Allow me,” I said.

Owen watched with dark, hooded eyes as I unknotted his tie and let it fall to the floor. Then I ran my hands across his chest, marveling at the warm muscles there, before reaching up and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. I pushed the fabric aside, leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. Owen’s arms snaked around me, pulling me close, and his fingers began pressing into my back, urging me on. I definitely had his full attention now.

“Why don’t I help you get out of that ruined suit?” I murmured. “In addition to killing people, this assassin also happens to be exceptionally good at cleanup.”

A sexy grin spread across Owen’s rugged face, softening the scar that slashed underneath his chin. “Really? That’s something I’d be very interested in seeing.”

I led him into the bathroom. The door didn’t even shut behind us before my lips were on his and I forgot about everything but the pleasure we could give each other. There would be time enough to figure out what had Owen so worried—later.

Much, much later.