"Sorry, Owen, but I'm just not in the mood right now," I said in a kinder tone. "I don't think I will be for the foreseeable future."
"No worries," Owen replied in a smooth tone. "I'm nothing if not patient. I just wanted to call and remind you that you had other options, Gin."
"Well, I'll keep those other options in mind," I drawled. "But right now, I've had a long day, and I plan to go home - alone."
"Don't let me keep you then," he murmured.
"Don't worry. I won't."
He let out another laugh, and I found myself smiling back, despite my mood.
"Good night, Gin," he rumbled.
Good night, Owen."
And just like that, he was gone. But unlike Donovan Caine, I knew that Owen Grayson would be back. For some reason, that thought comforted me, standing in the darkness of the restaurant.
After Owen's call, I drove home to Fletcher's. Checked the gravel in the driveway, then the granite around the door. Once I was satisfied there was no one lurking around, I went inside and headed straight to the kitchen. I poured myself a tall glass of gin, dropped some Ice cubes in it, then plopped down on the sofa in the den. I leaned my head back, stared into space, and brooded.
Donovan f**king Caine. He was all I could think about right now. I couldn't believe the detective was actually leaving Ashland. That he was leaving me. That we were never going to get the chance to fully explore this sizzling attraction between us. All that promise tossed aside. And for what? So the detective could rest easy at night, his idealistic morals and outdated code of justice still intact? Pointless, all of it.
I took a long pull of my gin, relishing the cold burn of the alcohol. For a moment, I considered retrieving the bottle out of the cabinet and getting sloshed. But it wouldn't do me a damn bit of good. I'd just wake up with a hangover tomorrow. Donovan Caine would still be leaving, if he hadn't already gone. He'd just broken up, more or less, with a former assassin. Not the kind of person you wanted knowing your whereabouts.
I could go after Donovan, of course. Talk to him again, plead my case, ruthlessly seduce him into giving us another chance. Into staying in Ashland. I'd thought about nothing else on the drive home.
But I couldn't do that. Because I still wanted what I'd always wanted - Donovan Caine to desire me, to want to be with me, Gin Blanco, the former assassin who called herself the Spider. But he didn't, and he never would. His code of justice wouldn't let him, any more than mine would let me forget about all the bad things I'd done in my life, all the people I'd killed. Or pretend that I wouldn't do it all over again, if it became necessary.
"Warren, you old coot, you were right after all." I raised my glass in a toast, then took another sip of gin.
I plunked my glass down on the battered coffee table, and my eyes landed on the folder - the one that contained the information on my murdered family. That was something else I'd been thinking about a lot these past few weeks. For the first time, I think I realized why Fletcher Lane had left it for me. He'd regretted his past with Warren T. Fox, for not making amends with his old friend. Fletcher had had some fifty years to do it, and he'd never gotten around to it. He didn't want me to have those same kinds of regrets, so the old man had given me a choice, given me the information I needed to make a choice. And I knew what I was going to do. I'd known ever since the night of Mab Monroe's party.
Ever since I'd realized she was the Fire elemental who'd murdered my family.
Maybe it had been her smell, jasmine mixed with smoke. Maybe it had been her silky voice. Or even that brief laugh she'd let out while she'd been standing over me, discussing my impending demise with Tobias Dawson.
But it had brought all of my memories of that night back to the surface. I hadn't seen the Fire elemental's face when she'd tortured me. But I'd heard her voice, her laugh.
And they were identical to Mab's.
I was sure of it now. Or maybe I'd known all along but just hadn't wanted to admit it to myself. That's why Fletcher had written Mab's name down in the folder to start with. To make me look in her direction and figure it out for myself.
I knew the who; now I wanted to know the why. Why had Mab killed my mother and older sister? Why had she tortured me? Why had she demanded to know where Bria was? When I found out the why, I'd have the final piece of the puzzle.
And then I'd kill the bitch.
Oh, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. That I could die in the process. That I probably would die. But Mab Monroe had murdered my family, made me think I'd killed my baby sister for seventeen years. I'd lived on the streets and eaten garbage because of her. Hidden from junkies and vampire pimps and all the other Southtown trash. Been scared and weak and frightened because of her. But not anymore. And mine wasn't the only family she'd ruined over the years. The Snow family was hardly a footnote compared to all the horrid things Mab Monroe had done.
And then there was Bria. My eyes traced over the picture of my baby sister. Blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, the primrose rune around her neck. She was out there somewhere, waiting for me.
"I'm going to find you, baby sister," I whispered. "One way or another."
My eyes flicked up to the rune drawings propped on the mantel. I stared at the image of the Pork Pit that I'd drawn, of the sign over the front door. Fletcher's rune, as I thought of it. I raised my glass in another toast.
"Here's to you, Fletcher Lane," I said. "I hope I'll make you proud."
Only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall broke the silence. I tossed back the gin and set my glass aside. Then I picked up the folder, ready to go through all the information again. And again and again if necessary.
Until I found all the answers I was looking for.
Donovan Caine had been right about one thing. Part of me would always be the Spider - and it was time to put my skills to good use. To do the things that needed to be done.
Find Bria.
Figure out why Mab Monroe had murdered my family.
Kill Mab.
"The good ole days are back again," I said.
Then I got to work.