"Wow," a voice whispered in my ear. "She really is an assassin. She really is the Spider."
I looked at the giant hunkered down in the grass beside me: Antonio Mendez, my right-hand man and my friend, one of the few that I had these days.
"It appears so," I murmured. "For once, McAllister actually told the truth about something."
Now all that was left was to decide what I was going to do with the information. Unlike McAllister, I didn't want Blanco dead. No, I had something else in mind for her. I'd heard some nasty rumors lately about an old enemy of mine who was coming back to Ashland, and I was thinking that Blanco was the perfect person to help me with my problem. I just needed to convince Blanco of that. But it wouldn't take much doing. Not when she realized who my enemy really was - and what a threat that person was going to be to her and what she loved.
I thought my enemy had shown her face here today - that mysterious woman in black. Rage had filled my whole body, and I was tempted to pull out my gun and start blasting at her. But I watched her, and I realized the mystery woman wasn't who I'd thought she was. Oh, no. My enemy wouldn't have been content to stay in the background like that. I didn't know who the mystery woman was, and I didn't really care. No, I had much bigger worries right now, like figuring out exactly when my enemy would return to Ashland - and finally come after me.
"Now what?" Antonio whispered, breaking into my thoughts.
I looked at Blanco, but all she did was face the coffin and lower her head to it again.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go and let her pay her respects in peace. I think she's earned it."
Antonio and I slipped away from Mab's grave site. I wanted a few minutes to think about what I'd just seen, so I told Antonio that I'd walk to the front of the cemetery and meet him there. The giant nodded and went to get the car from where he'd parked it on the back side of the cemetery.
I slowly wandered through the cemetery, looking at all the tombstones and the names of those buried here. I should have been planted a long time ago in some pauper's grave, but I'd managed to survive against the odds. Something I had in common with Blanco, I supposed.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts about the assassin that I didn't even see Owen until I was twenty feet away from him.
He was leaning against his car, lost in his own thoughts, but he turned at the scuff of my footsteps in the grass. Owen straightened up at the sight of me. His whole body stiffened, and the old, familiar anger blazed in his eyes. Even now, after all these years, he still hated me for what he thought I'd done. I couldn't decide whether I despised him or pitied him for being such a fool, for not realizing that I wasn't the villain - that I never had been. We'd been friends once - brothers, even - but that was gone now, long gone, destroyed in an instant by vicious lies and Owen's inability to see through them.
Still, I couldn't stop myself from veering in his direction and halting right in front of him.
"Owen." I nodded my head politely at him.
"Phillip," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Come to pay your respects, I see."
Owen shrugged.
He might hate me, but we had some similar business interests, so he had to deal with and even speak to me on occasion. I went out of my way to make him interact with me as often as possible. It pleased me to see his jaw clench when I knew that all he really wanted to do was punch me. Childish of me, but it was the only revenge I could force myself to take - on Owen, anyway. It wasn't completely his fault things had turned out like they had.
"And Gin?" I asked. "Did she come to pay her respects as well?"
Owen's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about Gin?"
This time I shrugged. "Just what all the rumors say. That she's the assassin the Spider. That she's the one who killed Mab. Then, of course, there was the display she put on here today. Going after that sniper wasn't exactly a smart move, if you ask me. All she's done is draw attention to and set herself up to be a target for the other crime bosses. I imagine almost all of them will want her dead now."
Chapter Eight
"What do you know about the sniper?" Owen demanded, his hands clenching into fists. "Did you hire him to kill Gin? Were you behind the attack today?"
"Of course not," I snapped. "If I were going after Gin, I would go after her myself - not hire someone to do it for me. I'm man enough to do my own dirty work. So were you, once upon a time. I'd thought you'd remember that, given all those clever jobs we pulled together."
Owen stared at me with suspicion, but after a moment he forced himself to relax. It seemed like he was going to believe me - about this anyway. "So if it wasn't you, then who do you think was behind the sniper attack?"
"McAllister, I imagine," I said. "He's looking for work, and some of the other bosses haven't been very . . . kind to him. Too bad he hired someone with lousy aim. Or maybe he just wanted your friend to show everyone exactly who she is and confirm all the nasty rumors he's been spreading about her. Either way, McAllister wins."
I hesitated. "But let's talk about more pleasant things. How's Eva?"
I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't stop myself from asking the question. I missed Eva. I missed a lot of things - things that had unfairly been taken away from me. Things that I thought Blanco just might be able to help me get back - finally, after all these years.
The anger flared up in Owen's eyes again. "Don't you dare ask me anything about Eva," he snarled. "Don't you even think about my sister."
I held up my hands. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just one old friend asking after another."
"Well, don't," he snapped. "And we aren't friends. Not anymore. Not in years now."
"Believe me, I know. You've never let me forget that."
"What does that mean?" Owen snapped again.
I thought about telling him what I meant, about what had really happened all those years ago, but he wouldn't listen to me. He hadn't back then, and he wouldn't now.
It was his stubborn refusal to believe me that hurt the worse, despite how much time had passed.
A beep sounded, saving me from answering. Antonio steered the car down the narrow road. The giant stopped a few feet away and beeped again.
"Well," I drawled. "It looks like my ride is here. A pleasure seeing you again, Owen. Just like it always is."
He glared at me. I started to head toward the car but stopped after a few steps. Even now, after what he'd done to me, part of me still cared about him - enough to turn around and let him know what was going on.