"So whatever you want to do, however you want to fight Mab Monroe, I'm with you," Owen finally said in a low voice. "Because the bitch killed my parents too. But mainly because I'm falling for you, Gin. I know what you do, what kind of violence you're capable of. But also, I know what kind of woman you are."
His words startled me more than anything had in a long time. "And what kind of woman would that be?"
Owen stared at me. "Someone who's passionate and full of life. Someone who's funny and smart. But mostly, someone who'll do whatever the f**k it takes to protect the people she cares about. That's what I like about you, Gin. That's what I admire about you. That's what draws me to you." His mouth quirked up in a smile. "Well, that and the knives. Did I ever mention that I think weapons are sexy?"
A warm, soft feeling blossomed in my chest, a little tingle of possibilities, of what could be between Owen and me-something far greater than I'd ever dreamed of.
At his suggestive tone, I arched an eyebrow, got up, and sat down in his lap. "Weapons are sexy, huh?" I whispered, my lips just touching his. "Care to frisk me to see if I'm carrying any right now?"
Owen's eyes glittered with violet desire. "I'd love to."
A minute later, Eva Grayson walked into the kitchen in her flannel pajamas to find Owen and me still kissing-among other more prurient things. She immediately clapped her hand over her eyes and started backing out of the kitchen.
"Oops! Owen, sorry, I didn't realize that you had an overnight guest-" Eva peered through her fingers at me. "Wait a minute. Gin? Is that you?"
I pulled my robe closed. "In the flesh."
Eva's eyes narrowed, and she looked from me to her brother and back again. "A sleepover. Cozy." Her gaze flicked to the food on the table. "I take it you're staying through breakfast then?"
I stared at Owen. "Yeah," I said. "I think I'll be here awhile."
Three days later, just after eleven, I was back at the Pork Pit, sitting behind the cash register reading the morning edition of the Ashland Trumpet. The headline across the front page read Police still searching for vigilante. The story was yet another follow-up piece about the events that had transpired at Elliot Slater's mountain mansion.
"Well, at least they're not calling you an assassin," Finnegan Lane said, reading the headline upside down.
Finn was taking a break from his banking to have an early lunch at the Pork Pit before the usual noontime crowd hit. Sophia Deveraux had already poured Finn his second cup of chicory coffee and was brewing him another pot to take back to the bank.
I shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before it spins the other way and I'm back to being a cold-blooded killer."
"We'll see," Finn replied. "It might take longer than you think."
"Why do you say that?"
"I've had my ear on the underground buzz," Finn replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Word is that Mab Monroe is looking high and low for you and that she's got all her boys and girls on red alert. But there are also a lot of other people who are interested in seeing if you can pull it off. If you can actually take down Mab and her organization. Obviously, the other power players in town are extremely interested in the outcome. Phillip Kincaid being the most vocal of those. But there are lots of little folks talking too, moms and pops that have felt Mab's heat over the years. You've got the beginnings of a major fan base out there."
"Great," I replied in a wry tone. "Just what I need. Celebrity."
"It can have its uses," Finn replied.
The bell over the front door chimed, and my first real customer of the day strolled in-Roslyn Phillips. Today the vamp wore an elegant lavender sweater over a pair of slim-fitting, gray wool pants. A bit of matching lipstick brightened her beautiful face, and her silver glasses flashed in the morning sunlight. You'd never know by looking at her that Roslyn had almost been beaten to death. Thanks to Jo-Jo Deveraux's healing skills, the vamp had completely recovered from her ordeal at the hands of Elliot Slater. On the outside, at least.
I knew that Roslyn would always bear the scars on the inside-raw, bloody wounds that would scab over but perhaps never fully heal. My heart still ached for the vampire and everything that she had been through because of me, and I knew that it always would. If I could have, I would have killed Elliot Slater for her all over again. And again. And again.
But Roslyn seemed to be holding her own. And Finn had told me that Sophia, of all people, had talked at length to the vamp about what had happened to her. Finn didn't know any of the details, but he said that whatever Sophia had told Roslyn, it had seemed to help the other woman. The vamp certainly looked more like her old, confident, sophisticated self today than she had the last time I'd seen her-bloody in the back of a police car while everyone gawked at her.
Whether she realized it herself or not, Roslyn Phillips was one of the strongest people that I'd ever had the pleasure to know. And one day, I hoped she would do me the honor of calling me her friend, despite the hell that I was partially responsible for inflicting on her. I hoped Roslyn could forgive me for it someday-even though I knew that I'd never forgive myself.
Roslyn came over to the counter, sat down next to Finn, and smiled at the two of us. "Gin, Finn." The vampire leaned forward and waved her hand at Sophia.
"Hmph." Sophia returned Roslyn's greeting with her usual grunt, but the Goth dwarf flashed the vampire a tiny smile before turning back to the coffeepot.
"Roslyn," I said. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm just here to meet Xavier for lunch."
I raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't resist my cooking?"
Another small smile tugged her lips, though it didn't quite banish the dark shadows in her eyes. "Something like that."
We sat and chatted about nothing of consequence. We all knew that it was too soon to talk about anything else, and I didn't want to do or say anything to upset Roslyn.
So Roslyn told us that her sister Lisa and her niece Catherine had finally returned from their beach vacation now that Elliot Slater was dead and the coast was clear, so to speak. She promised to bring them by sometime. I told the vamp that any meal with her family at the Pork Pit was on the house.
About five minutes after Roslyn arrived, the bell over the front door chimed again, and Xavier walked inside. The giant headed straight for Roslyn, and the two of them smiled at each other, their feelings shining in their eyes for everyone to see.