of person who was hard to forget, if the reaction of all the men, and some of the women, in the room was any indication.
“What a beautiful bracelet,” I murmured.
I traced my left index finger over the mermaid rune and realized that I was getting the same sensation from the bracelet I was off Salina’s hand—one of cool, constant motion. So she used the cuff to store her magic then, like so many elementals did their silverstone rings, watches, and necklaces.
Salina pulled her hand out of mine and made a pointed show of rubbing my fingerprints off the cuff’s glossy surface. “A family heirloom.”
“Charming.”
We smiled at each other, being painstakingly polite the way Southern women so often were, even though our eyes were flat and emotionless. Instant dislike on both sides.
Salina stared at me, taking in my simple black evening gown with its long, swooping, poet sleeves and full tulle skirt, which hid the two knives I had strapped to my thighs. Her gaze lingered on my own silverstone jewelry, the ring on my right index finger, which had my spider rune stamped into the middle of it and contained my Ice magic. But apparently, my ring wasn’t as impressive as her bracelet, because she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she focused her attention on Owen again.
“I’m so glad I ran into you tonight,” Salina purred. “Especially since you never returned the message I left at your office last week about my finally coming back to Ashland.”
I looked at Owen, who winced. He’d never told me about any message he’d gotten from her.
“Anyway, now I can give you my good news in person,” Salina continued in her soft, sweet voice. “Before, I said I was only coming for a visit, but I’ve decided to move back to Ashland permanently. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” Owen echoed, his voice even fainter than before.
Salina smiled and moved even closer to my lover. She reached out and smoothed first one side, then the other of his jacket, before bringing her fingers up and toying with his lapels. “The two of us will have lots of time to catch up now. I’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Over at his table, McAllister pointedly cleared his throat, saving Owen from answering that loaded question. Salina turned to send the lawyer a cold, withering look and held up a finger, indicating that she’d be there in a minute. Then, she focused her attention on Owen again, all smiles and sunshine once more.
“Call me, darling. You have my number. Any time, day . . . or night.”
Wow. Subtle she was not. I don’t think her meaning could have been any clearer than if she’d hiked up her dress and asked Owen to do her right there on the table.
Salina winked at him, then sashayed back over to McAllister’s table, where the lawyer was still standing, his hands now clenched around the back of the chair he’d pulled out for her. He didn’t like being ignored any more than I did. The two of them sat down, and McAllister started talking, although Salina was only half listening to the lawyer, her gaze repeatedly drifting over to Owen.
My lover sighed and looked at me. “About Salina—”
I reached over and straightened his tie, giving him the same killer smile Salina just had. “Not while we have an audience,
I told the waiter to put the bill on Finn’s tab, and Owen and I left Underwood’s and got into his car. We didn’t speak on the drive over to Fletcher’s house—my house now. Owen steered his Mercedes Benz to the top of the driveway and put the car in park, but he didn’t turn off the engine. Instead, he stared out the windshield into the darkness—brooding.
I wondered what he was seeing—what he was remembering about Salina. The time they’d been together, the things they’d shared, how she’d made him feel when they were alone in the dark, their skin touching, their hands exploring, their bodies arching into each other.
My heart pulsed with jealousy at the thought of them together, but I stayed quiet. Owen hadn’t been a virgin any more than I had been when we’d gotten together. We both had pasts—Owen had just seen more of my dark, violent one than I had of his.
He finally sighed. “Ask away. I know you want to.”
“You and Salina?”
He nodded. “Me and Salina.”
“How long ago?”
“A lifetime,” he murmured. “Maybe two.”
I waited for him to go on, to talk about how they’d met, the time they’d spent together, or even why they’d broken up. He didn’t say anything, but his face, his whole body, was tight and tense with emotion—with pain. Whatever had happened between them, it hadn’t ended well. Still, I kept quiet, waiting for Owen to tell me about them in his own way, in his own time. That’s what he’d done for me when I’d run into Donovan while on vacation in Blue Marsh. I figured I owed Owen the same courtesy.
He sighed again. “Anyway, it’s over, and it has been for a long time now. I hadn’t seen or heard from Salina in years . . .”
“Until she left that message at your office last week.”
He nodded. “Right.”
And that would have been about the time Owen had started acting distant and distracted. Ah.
I reached out and trailed my fingers down his face. “Come in?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”
“I understand,” I murmured, keeping my face smooth and hiding the hurt that pricked my heart.
Owen gently reached for my hand and kissed my palm, right in the middle of my spider rune scar. “Rain check?”
“Of course.” This time, I was the one with the faint voice.
Owen hesitated again, then leaned over and pressed his lips to mine—but he pulled back far too soon, like he’d been guessing how long he should maintain the kiss and the allotted time was up. I managed to smile at him, pretending I didn’t notice the sudden distance between us, distance that Salina had somehow created just by walking into the restaurant.
I got out of the car and shut the door behind me. Owen put the vehicle in gear and turned it around. He paused to wave good night to me, and I lifted my hand in return. A moment later, the car disappeared down the driveway.
I stood there alone in the dark and wondered who the hell Salina Dubois really was, why she seemed to have such an effect on my lover, and what I was going to do about her. Because this was a matter of the heart— and one problem that all my knives and all my prowess as the Spider wouldn’t help me solve.
4
Despite my unease and questions about Salina, the next day was business as usual at the Pork Pit, the barbecue restaurant I owned—right down to me checking for booby traps.
It was just before eleven, and I’d spent the last twenty minutes looking at everything in the restaurant storefront, from the well-worn but clean blue and pink vinyl booths to the long counter that ran down the back wall to the framed, blood-spattered copy of
