Deadly Sting

I wasn’t sure what Owen had been about to say about me, whether I was merely a friend or an ex or something else entirely, but I didn’t want to find out. Not like this, anyway.

Still, the irony of the situation cut me like one of my own knives. The last time Owen had introduced me to a woman, it had been Salina, whom I’d had to kill. At the time, he’d failed to mention that she was his ex-fiancee. I wondered what sort of relationship he had with Jillian—if they’d been lovers in the past or if this was new.

Because it was obvious she wanted to start up something with him. I could tell by the way her hand tightened on his arm as she stepped even closer to him. Plus, the shoes were a dead giveaway. Women didn’t wear heels like that because they were comfortable. They wore them because of the way they made their legs look long and lean—and made men salivate over them.

Was Owen—could he be—were they out on a date?

My stomach twisted at the thought of Owen with someone else. That he might have already moved on without even telling me. That our relationship might be well and truly dead. The idea hurt so much that I couldn’t even breathe for a second.

But the shock of the moment passed, and the jagged, broken pieces of my heart kept right on beating just like they always did, even if every steady thump-thump-thump brought a fresh wave of pain along with it.

Despite my treacherous, unwanted, seesawing emotions, I decided to be gracious about things. Acting the bitch wouldn’t help matters. Besides, Jo-Jo had taught me better manners than that.

Gin Blanco. The Spider. Notorious assassin. Polite to a fault.

“Love your dress,” I joked.

Jillian smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. “Oh, yeah. Yours too.”

We both laughed, but my voice sounded hard and brittle—just like my heart.

The three of us stood there, shifting on our feet, not sure what to say to each other to break the silence that was growing more strained and awkward by the second. I glanced around the rotunda, hoping Finn was nearby so I could excuse myself more easily. It took me several seconds, but I finally spotted my foster brother—and he wasn’t alone.

Three other people stood with him. One was a tall, strong-looking man with blond hair that was slicked back into a ponytail. The other two were women, one young, only twenty, with dark hair and blue eyes, the other older but even more beautiful, with black hair and toffee-colored eyes and skin. Phillip Kincaid, Eva Grayson, and Roslyn Phillips. Familiar faces, since Phillip was Owen’s best friend, Eva was his younger sister, and Roslyn was another member of my extended family.

Owen noticed me looking past him and turned to see what I was so interested in.

“Eva’s here with me and Jillian,” he explained, facing me once more. “We all rode over together with Phillip and Roslyn.”

I nodded. Finn had told me that Roslyn was coming to the exhibit with someone else, since Xavier, her significant other, had to work tonight along with Bria. I just hadn’t thought that someone else would be Phillip. Then again, Roslyn owned Northern Aggression, the city’s most decadent nightclub. She knew everyone who was anyone in Ashland, including all of the underworld players like Kincaid.

Finn must have felt me staring at him, because he glanced in my direction. He started to look away but stopped and did a double take just as Jillian had. He stared at her a moment, then at me, his eyes flicking back and forth between our identical dresses.

Owen hesitated. “Actually, the reason Eva, Phillip, Jillian, and I are all here is that Finn gave me several extra tickets for the gala. He said that someone had given a bunch of them to him at his bank and he didn’t want us to miss out on the exhibit. He also said to think of it as part of his apology to me for everything that . . . happened between us.”

That everything had included Finn holding a gun on Owen while I cut Salina’s throat. Needless to say, Owen had been plenty pissed about that, mostly at me, for asking Finn to do such a thing in the first place. Still, it didn’t surprise me that he’d talked to my foster brother and had taken the tickets from him. Finnegan Lane could be exceptionally persuasive when he put his mind to it. Besides, what had happened that night had been my doing, no one else’s. The responsibility, the burden of that, was mine to bear, and so was the guilt.

“Did he, now?” I murmured. “How considerate of him.”

Finn had been so insistent that I come to the exhibit that I hadn’t thought too much about exactly why he wanted me here in the first place. Oh, sure, he’d said that Bria was busy and that he wanted to get me out of the house and have some fun, but I was beginning to think he’d had an ulterior motive in mind. Getting me and Owen into the same space was exactly the sort of sneaky, underhanded thing Finn would do and then claim it was for my own good. I loved my foster brother, truly I did, but sometimes his cheerful meddling made me want to wring his neck.

This was one of those times.

“Well,” I said, giving Owen and Jillian a bright smile. “Please excuse me. I really need to go see what Finn is up to. Jillian, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she replied.

I looked at my lover, careful to keep my face blank. “Owen.”

“Gin.”

I nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.

And that was that. Nothing else was said, nothing else was done, and nothing had changed between us. I wondered if this was the extent of my relationship with Owen now—cool, distant, polite, impersonal. I wondered if this was all we would ever be now.

My heart clenched at the thought, but I forced myself to smile at the two of them a final time. My teeth ground together and my cheeks ached from the strain, but I managed to keep the expression fixed on my face until I stepped past them. Then I walked away, leaving them to their date.

* * *

I strode through the crowd, the sharp snap-snap-snap of my heels against the floor as loud as a series of firecrackers exploding, my wintry gray glare fixed on one man—Finnegan fucking Lane.

He saw me coming and edged behind Eva. Please. As if that would save him. Still, I stopped when I reached the group and addressed everyone in turn.

“Roslyn, you’re looking as lovely as ever. You too, Eva. Phillip, nice to see you.”

The three of them murmured polite greetings to me. I looked past Eva and stared at Finn, who was still keeping the younger woman between the two of us.

“Why, Finn,” I drawled in a voice that was as sugary-sweet as the summer sun tea I made on Fletcher’s front porch. “I didn’t realize you’d asked some of our friends to come here tonight too. You are just full of surprises.”

Finn eyed me over Eva’s slender shoulder. “So,” he replied in a voice that was just as easy and unconcerned as mine, “are you planning on killing me right here in the middle of the rotunda?”

I gave him a cool, murderous smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I rather like the rotunda just the way it is, without your blood decorating the walls. It would be a shame to dirty up all this pretty gray marble, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Personally, I like my blood right where it is, inside my body.”

“Besides, it would be so much easier to stab you to death in the parking lot, stuff you into the trunk, stop your car at the entrance to the covered bridge, and heave your dead carcass into the Aneirin River. No muss, no fuss, and no evidence for the cops to find when they finally fish your bloated, rotting corpse out of the water.”

He winced. “I take it things didn’t go well with Owen?”

“No, things did not go well with Owen, unless you think stilted sentences and awkward pauses are the signs of a successful couple.” I glared at Finn. “What were you thinking? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Owen was coming tonight—and that you’d purposefully invited him.”

Finn kept wincing, but he didn’t answer me. Roslyn and Phillip exchanged a puzzled look, but it was Eva’s reaction that caught my eye. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor, a guilty expression on her face if ever