“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 fiance, 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
“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.
But the revelry wasn’t over for everyone. Down below, tiki torches blazed around an enormous, palm-tree- shaped swimming pool. Palm trees were a common rune in these parts, being the symbol for coastal beauty, and the elaborate shape of the pool was in keeping with that theme. More than a few folks had decided to go for a late swim, relax in the lounge chairs, or down some more daiquiris from the bamboo-and-grass-covered bar nearby. Couples swayed to cheerful calypso music on a patio on the far side of the pool. Beyond that, a few bonfires flickered on the beach, the folks milling around them backlit by the orange flames.
Bare feet whispered on the patio behind me, and Bria came up to lean next to me on the wrought-iron
