Widow's Web

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,