Widow’s Web

  Cruel. It was such a simple word, but I thought it described Salina perfectly, given what I’d seen her do to Antonio. Elemental magic was never a fun way to die, but having all the water pulled out of your body and your eyes popped out of your skull for an extra thrill, well, that was a little extreme—even by Ashland standards, where elemental duels were common.

  “Cruel,” I said. “Got it.”

  Roslyn opened her mouth to say something else, but the bell over the front door chimed, indicating that I had a new customer.

  And just like that, Salina Dubois herself strolled into the Pork Pit.

  18

  Salina stood in the doorway, surveying my gin joint. And once again, I was struck by how lovely she was, but her beauty didn’t inspire quite the same awe in me as it had before, especially since Roslyn was here.

  Where Roslyn’s beauty was soft, warm, and inviting, Salina’s was hard, cold, and distant. The planes of her face were perfectly proportioned, but the angles were sharp, as though her porcelain skin had been chiseled from marble. Her lips were full and covered with a slick pink gloss, while her eyes were that shifting color somewhere between blue and green. But even they were cold, so cold they reminded me of the glass eyes I’d seen in some dolls not too long ago. Flat, empty, and completely emotionless.

  Salina wore a power suit in a bright aquamarine that brought out the beauty of her sun-kissed skin. Matching stilettos covered her dainty feet, and I could see the gleam of her pink pedicure all the way across the restaurant. Her silverstone cuff bracelet—the one with her mermaid rune etched into it—adorned her right wrist. But the expensive clothes and flash of jewelry almost made her seem a little too polished, a little too perfect, like she was made of wax and would melt if you so much as touched her.

  The only thing soft about Salina was her hair, which cascaded down her back in rippling blond waves, reminding me of the water she could so easily control. I’d never been one for long hair myself. Too much trouble to take care of and, in my line of work, too much chance of it getting pulled out during a fight to the death.

  “Stay right where you are. Act casual, but whatever you do, don’t turn around,” I told Roslyn in a soft voice.

  The vampire stiffened. “Salina just walked into the restaurant, didn’t she?”

  I nodded. “And since it seems like she’s going around Ashland killing former associates, or at least trying to, I don’t want her to see you and remember you used to visit her father. Okay?”

  Roslyn nodded and kept facing the back wall, although she pulled a compact out of her purse, as though she needed to powder her nose. She angled the mirror so she could see behind her.

  “Yep,” she murmured. “That’s Salina all right.”

  The vamp snapped her compact shut and stuck it back into her purse. “So now what are you going to do?”

  I picked up a menu and a glass of water, and gave her a wink. “Why, I’m going to go see what she wants, of course. You know how much I pride myself on my stellar customer service.”

  Salina didn’t wait for me or one of the waitstaff to seat her. Instead, she looked around the restaurant a second longer before walking over and sliding into an empty booth by the storefront windows. Then she turned her head in my direction and smiled, a clear invitation for me to come on over.

  I looked over my shoulder at Sophia. Roslyn had leaned forward and was talking to the Goth dwarf, quietly filling her in on the situation. Sophia turned in my direction, a clear question in her black eyes, but I shook my head, telling her to stay put. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t kill Salina in the middle of the Pork Pit. My customers and staff might have thought I was the Spider, but it wasn’t like I wanted to palm my knives and give them a demonstration of my deadly skills.

  Sophia nodded at me and said something to Roslyn. The vampire slid off her stool and followed her to the back of the restaurant, probably so she could leave through the alley. Once Roslyn and Sophia were out of sight, I plastered my best, easiest, most unconcerned smile on my face and sidled up to Salina’s booth. I put the glass of water down on the table, along with the menu.

  “What can I getcha, sugar?”

  “Sit down, Gin,” Salina said, a clear command in her voice. “You don’t have to keep up the charade for me. I find charades to be rather tiresome, don’t you?”

  I arched an eyebrow at her boldness, but if that was the way she wanted to play things, then that was fine by me. I’d never much liked making nice with or feeding my enemies, even when they were paying for the privilege.

  So I slid into the opposite side of the booth from Salina. Up close, she was even more stunning, with a dazzling beauty you just couldn’t look away from. I could see why Owen had been so drawn to her. Hell, I could see why any man would be. The fact that she’d been Owen’s fiancée cut a little deep.

  Salina’s eyes flicked over my long-sleeved T-shirt and the blue work apron I always wore whenever I cooked at the Pit. Her pink lips curled up into a faint sneer.

  “So you’re Gin Blanco, the assassin known as the Spider,” Salina finally said. “How . . . disappointing.”

  I leaned back in my booth, my easy smile still on my face. “And you’re Salina Dubois, the woman who likes to use her water magic to pop people’s eyes out of their skulls. I’d say the disappointment is mutual.”

  Bria was right—she was smooth. Salina didn’t bat an eyelash at my words. Didn’t blink, didn’t suck in an indignant breath, didn’t pucker her lips in displeasure or denial. It was like I hadn’t even spoken for all the reaction she showed. Instead, she reached for the glass I’d put in front of her, took a delicate sip of the liquid, and then wrinkled her nose, as if it left a foul taste in her mouth.

  “Tap water,” she murmured, carefully setting the glass off to the side. “I should have guessed.”

  Yes, Salina was good, but I recognized the misdirection for what it was. She was trying to buy herself a few seconds to decide whether or not to lie to me about what had happened on the Delta Queen. Apparently I wasn’t worth the trouble, because she just shrugged, instead of denying my accusation or placing the blame on Kincaid, like she had with Owen.

  Salina seemed a little put out that I wasn’t more upset—or perhaps awed—by her appearance, but she got down to business. “Tell me, how is Phillip feeling? I was going to stop by the riverboat this afternoon, but I was in such a hurry to get over here that I just didn’t have the time.”

  I didn’t know what she meant by that, or why she had come here in the first place, but I kept my face just as smooth as hers was. Salina wasn’t the only one who could play this sort of game.

  “Kincaid is doing just fine,” I replied in an even tone. “Despite your attempt to kill him.”

  Salina shrugged again, as if the fact that I’d just accused her of attempted murder was no more worrisome than a piece of lint sticking to her clothes. Given the obvious time, trouble, and energy she’d put into her appearance, I imagined the lint would bother her more.

  “I knew I’d sent Phillip a clear message with Katarina’s death, but I didn’t expect him to be so desperate as to hire an assassin to protect him,” Salina said. “I didn’t think Phillip was that smart. Katarina certainly wasn’t.”

  “And what was your problem with Katarina?”

  Salina smiled. “Nothing in particular, other than I knew she was friends with Phillip. People should be more careful about the company they keep. It can get them into trouble. Just ask Antonio.”

  So I’d been right, and she’d killed the others mostly to hurt Kincaid. Cold and cruel.

  “I let Katarina know in advance I was coming for her,” Salina continued, as if that excused murdering the other woman in so gruesome a fashion. “Not that it did her any good. It never does, in the end, when I’m around.”

  That sounded exactly like something I would say when talking about my prowess as the Spider. She was cocky, I’d give her that. But then again, given what I’d seen her do to Antonio,
she had every right to be.

  To my surprise, Salina didn’t radiate magic as strongly as many elementals did. Whenever I’d been around Mab, I’d always felt like there were hundreds of tiny, invisible, red-hot needles stabbing into my skin. But it wasn’t like that with Salina at all. In fact, the only feeling I got from being close to her was a vague sense of cool wetness, like if I reached out and touched her skin, it would feel damp and slick. You didn’t have to radiate magic to be a strong elemental, and Salina had more than enough power to be dangerous—even to me.

  Besides, like Jo-Jo always told me, it didn’t matter how much elemental power you had—just what you did with it. Even the weakest elemental could kill the strongest, if the circumstances were right.

  “Is that why you’ve come back to Ashland?” I asked. “To settle old scores? Like the one you have with Kincaid?”

  Salina let out a small, pealing laugh. “Hardly. I’ll admit it’s been . . . amusing seeing my old . . . friends, but the thrill of that has quickly worn off. I’m here on more serious business. Although make no mistake, I’ll get back to Phillip soon enough.”

  “And what business would that be? I assume it’s something that weasel Jonah McAllister is helping you with, since you were with him at Underwood’s.”

  Salina smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why, Jonah has just been an absolute dream to work with so far. In fact, we had quite an interesting conversation about you, Gin, after you and Owen left the restaurant. Jonah filled me in on all your many . . . exploits.”

  Once again, I cursed McAllister and the day his path had ever crossed mine. It was bad enough the lawyer wanted me dead, but he was determined to make as much trouble for me as he could in the meantime. If he hadn’t known about Salina and Owen before, I was sure he did now—and was delighted by their connection and how it might screw up my relationship. That was just the kind of sneaky, underhanded thing McAllister enjoyed, and he’d have been more than happy to see me suffer on my way to getting dead.

  Salina straightened up in her side of the booth. “As to what I’m up to, I see no reason to hide it, not from someone like you, Gin. What I want is simple: to take my rightful place in the Ashland underworld. The place my father held before his unfortunate . . . accident.”

  “You mean before Mab Monroe staked him out and barbecued him like a pork chop for all his friends to see,” I replied. “And you too. Pity, dear old dad getting roasted like that right in front of you.”

  My words were cruel, heartless even, but I’d meant them to be. So far, nothing I’d said or done had bothered Salina in the slightest, and I wanted to rattle her. I wanted to see the real her and not just the polite mask she’d shown me so far. I needed to see the real her—for all sorts of reasons.

  Salina’s left hand went to her silverstone cuff bracelet, and her fingers traced over the mermaid rune almost as if she was thinking about reaching for the water magic stored in the metal and using it against me. Something flashed in her eyes then, some hint of emotion I hadn’t seen her show before. I knew it for what it was, though—rage. Absolute, complete, murderous rage. I wondered who it was directed at. Me, for goading her? Mab, for killing her father? Or maybe even daddy himself for not being strong enough to oust the Fire elemental from her position?

  Either way, Salina regained her composure in an instant. The rage slid out of her eyes, she dropped her hand from her bracelet, and that cold, remote smile decorated her face once more.

  “Yes, well, that’s all in the past now. What matters is the present and, most important, the future. And both of those are all thanks to you, Gin. In fact, that’s why I came here today. To thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Her smile widened. “Why, for killing Mab, of course. Naturally, I wanted to do it myself and was even planning my long-awaited return to Ashland when I heard the news that you’d done it for me. And I’m not the only one who’s grateful to you for eliminating her. To hear the whispers, it seems that Ashland is wide open to new . . . business interests now that that horrible Fire elemental isn’t around. I’ve heard several folks talk about expanding their investments here. Why, you practically performed a public service, killing her the way you did.”

  I’d jokingly said that sort of thing myself more than once, and I wondered if she was mocking me. But she actually seemed sincere, as though I really had done her a favor. Her and everyone else. It was bad enough every low-life and his higher-ups in Ashland were already gunning for me. I didn’t need out-of-towners adding to the mess too—but that was exactly what Salina was describing. I bit back another curse, wondering just how many more people I was going to have to kill before everyone got the message to leave me alone. Before I could enjoy the retirement and the quiet life Fletcher had wanted for me.

  “In fact, I’m going to be hosting a little soiree for my father’s old . . . associates tomorrow night at my estate,” Salina said. “A business dinner, if you will. Consider yourself invited as well. After all, as an assassin, you have as much right to be there as anyone else in Ashland these days.”

  I might have inadvertently put myself in the underworld limelight by killing Mab, but I’d rather have eaten raw rattlesnake than attend any sort of event Salina had in mind. Still, I matched her fake politeness smile for smile.

  “So I take it you’re back in Ashland for good then?” I asked. “Since you plan on picking up your father’s . . . business interests?”

  “It’s my home. And I plan to reclaim what’s mine—everything that’s mine.”

  I knew exactly what she was referring to, and she confirmed it a second later without saying a word. Instead, Salina lifted her hand. I tensed, wondering if she was reaching for her water magic to use against me, but all she did was wave at someone through the storefront windows.

  “In fact, there he is right now,” she practically purred.

  The bell over the door chimed. A sinking feeling filled my stomach, one that only got worse a second later, when Owen stepped into the restaurant.

  Owen spotted us immediately, and my lover paused in the doorway, his gaze going from me to Salina and back again. His face was calm and expressionless, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. This wasn’t a meeting he was looking forward to. Couldn’t imagine why.

  He wore his usual business suit, this one a dark navy blue, and more than one female customer looked at him in appreciation as he walked over to our table. Salina slid out of the booth, got to her feet, and turned her cheek, expecting a kiss, but Owen only squeezed her hand.

  “Salina,” he said. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  He’d invited her here? He’d actually asked his former lover, his ex-fiancée, to my restaurant? That bitter, painful jealousy flared up in my chest again, despite my attempts to smother it. But I kept my emotions in check, waiting to see what his reason for this meeting was.

  Owen dropped her hand. I moved over, and he sat down next to me. Another flash of emotion flickered across Salina’s face—annoyance this time. I wondered if it was because Owen hadn’t slobbered all over her like she’d expected or because he’d chosen to sit on my side of the booth instead of hers.

  But she recovered quickly, plastering a sunny smile on her face. “Of course, darling. You’d know I’d meet you anytime, anywhere. Even . . . here.”

  I rolled my eyes. Salina wasn’t the first person to sneer at the hole-in-the-wall atmosphere of my restaurant, but her comment needled me more than most. Or perhaps that was just because of her history with my lover.

  Owen raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with here? The Pork Pit has some of the best food in the city.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought you might want to catch up in private.” Salina’s expression turned coy, and she fluttered her lashes.

  My lover stared at her for a moment before deliberately reaching over and putting his hand on top of mine.

  “We don’t have anything to say to each other that Gin can’t
hear,” Owen said in a level tone. “After all, we’re just old friends now.”

  I looked at Owen, who gave me a wink and a slow, sexy smile. I threaded my fingers through his and gently squeezed his hand, silently telling him that I appreciated his words and gestures.

  Salina’s gaze dropped to our linked fingers. Her smile slipped, and once again, that rage flashed in her eyes momentarily. “Of course,” she murmured, rubbing her fingers against her cuff bracelet again.

  She noticed me watching her. Salina’s hand stilled, then dropped from the silverstone once more.

  “So,” Owen said, “what have you been up to all these years?”

  She gave him another bright, dazzling smile. “Why, darling, I’d thought you’d never ask.”

  Salina spent the next ten minutes talking about her travels since she’d left Ashland. Apparently, the water elemental had been living the high life, going from one luxurious spot to the next and enjoying all the fine food and scenery the world had to offer. The one thing she didn’t mention was the trail of dead husbands she’d left behind, their suspicious, water-related deaths, and how they’d all borne an eerie resemblance to Owen.

  “And what about Phillip?” Owen asked after she’d finally wound down with her stories of glitz and glamour. “I know what happened on the riverboat.”