But instead, I'd made everything that much worse by not killing Salina myself, by not trying to set right the wrongs that I'd unwittingly inflicted upon them.
And even though Salina was dead now, I still couldn't escape the legacy of what she'd done. Cooper looked at me with sad, knowing, pitying eyes. Phillip measured everything that I said, no matter how innocent or unimportant, as though he didn't really believe any of my words. Eva glared at me with such disgust sometimes that it took my breath away.
And then there was Gin, whom I'd wounded the worst. Because she'd saved us all from Salina's twisted revenge scheme, and I'd turned my back on her like a fool. I'd lashed out at Gin, when I should have been blaming myself for not protecting her and the others from Salina in the first place.
But the really sad thing, the really pathetic thing, the truly unforgivable thing, was that I'd known exactly what kind of stupid ass I was being that night at the Dubois estate. I'd known it the day I'd gone to see Gin at the Pork Pit and told her that I needed some time to think about things. And again when we'd talked in the moonlit gardens outside the Briartop museum, and she'd finally let me see how sick, weary, and hurt she was because of how I'd reacted to Salina's death. Gin had risked her life to rescue me at Salina's estate and then again at Briartop, and all I had done was wound her time and time again.
Gin didn't like folks to know it, and she especially didn't like them to see it, but she would do anything for the people she loved, including taking their emotional garbage. And I'd heaped a ton of it onto her shoulders instead of manning up and dealing with things myself - instead of killing Salina myself.
I loved Gin, but I'd known that she had some serious trust issues after Detective Donovan Caine had so coldly rejected her for being an assassin. But I'd seen her, and I'd wanted her, so I'd pursued her. And as I got to know Gin, as I fell in love with her, I had vowed to myself that I would never treat her as thoughtlessly as Donovan had. I would never judge or reject her for doing what she thought was right, for using her skills as the Spider to protect others.
But I'd done it all anyway. I loved Gin, but I'd still hurt her, and I didn't know if I could ever forgive myself for that.
Maybe Gin had made the wrong choice in Blue Marsh. Maybe she should have chosen Donovan instead of me. Maybe she should go home with one of the peacocks tonight and forget I ever existed.
Phillip was right. I was a f**king idiot. I'd had Gin's love, and I had been stupid enough to throw it away. It was all my fault, and I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to fix myself, much less us.
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to shake off the guilt. But that didn't work, it never worked, so I growled and punched the metal. I put a bit of magic behind the blow, leaving a fist-shaped dent in the door. I had an elemental talent for metal, could bend it and shape it any way that I wanted to. Right now, I felt like ripping the door off its hinges and sending wave after wave of my magic into it until the metal was crumpled up like a smushed soda can between my fingers -
The bathroom door banged open, and the heavy tread of footsteps sounded.
"Did you see that bitch brush me off?" a low voice growled. "I used all of my best lines on her, and she looked at me like I was some sort of gnat that was bothering her."
"Calm down, Stuart," another voice chimed in. "We knew that the direct approach might not work."
"I can have any woman in this club that I want, and she turns me down? Oh, hell, no," Stuart snarled. "If we hadn't been hired to kill her already, I would do it myself just because. She wouldn't think she was so high and mighty when my hands were wrapped around her throat."
Hired to kill her? I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly who they were talking about: Gin.
Now that everyone in the underworld knew - or at least suspected - that she was the assassin the Spider, practically every crime boss in the city had tried to take Gin out and prove that they had the stones to be the new head of the Ashland crime scene. Of course, no one had succeeded yet, but that didn't keep them from trying . . . and trying . . . and trying. . . .
"So the Spider brushed you off," the second man said in a much calmer and colder voice. "It happens. She's a woman, just like any other. Who knows what they're really thinking? Most of them don't even know, and I, for one, don't care. But like you said, we were hired to kill her. Nothing else. So we'll just watch and wait until we see a chance to get her alone."
Well, not if I could help it. I'd already hurt Gin so much. I wasn't about to let these two losers ruin her night. My hand curled into a fist again, but this time, I didn't want to hit the door - I wanted to hit them.
But instead of giving in to my anger, I peered through the crack between the stall door and the frame to get a look at Gin's would-be attackers. One was the giant in the blue T-shirt whom I'd noticed hitting on her earlier. He took a comb out of his back pocket and ran it through his hair, making sure that every blond strand was greased back into place. Then he stared into the mirror and smiled, before cocking his head to the side and arching first one eyebrow, then the other, in a suggestive manner at his own reflection, as if he were trying to seduce himself. Did that lame come-hither look ever actually work for him? Arrogant, egotistical pretty boy. I was going to enjoy knocking his perfect teeth out of his mouth.
The other guy was a dwarf, but his chest and shoulders were even wider and more muscled than the giant's. He wore a black button-up shirt, dark brown khakis, and black boots. The dwarf's black hair was shaved close to his skull, more like stubble than anything else. A smile stretched across his mouth as he watched the giant groom himself. But there was something hollow in the dwarf's expression, and his lips were firmly curved up, like his smile had been painted onto his face. His light brown eyes were even colder and emptier than his smile. The giant might be a loudmouthed hothead, but the dwarf - the dwarf was the real threat.
"Fine, Richie," the giant, Stuart, snapped. He finished fixing his hair and slid his comb into his back pocket. "We'll wait until the time is right to make our move. But that bitch is mine. You got it?"
"Sure," Richie replied. "No problem. Better you get her blood on your clothes anyway."
Stuart frowned and looked down at his blue T-shirt, then over at Richie, as if he wasn't sure whether the dwarf was serious. "Do you think that I should go change real quick? I have some extra clothes in the car. This is my lucky T-shirt. Nobody says no to me in this T-shirt. It brings out the color of my eyes. All the ladies tell me so."