The two of them reminded me of Fletcher and the relationship I'd had with the old man when he'd first taken me in. I'd been so grateful to Fletcher for rescuing me from the cold, hard streets that I would have done anything for him-anything. Sydney had the same sort of obsessive, fawning gratitude toward Gentry. I wondered why; what bad thing had happened to the girl that Gentry had rescued her from. Maybe Finn could find out for me, since I'd asked him to look into the bounty hunter.
Curiosity. It was what was staying my hand now and keeping me from dragging Gentry into the alley and stabbing her to death. Ah, curiosity. It always got the best of me, even when I should have known better.
I should just have gutted Ruth Gentry where she sat. The bounty hunter had already proven that she was smart and dangerous. Instead of doing something stupid and pointless like staking out the police station or Bria's house, Gentry had thought to come to the Pork Pit instead-a place where my sister was known to hang out. That showed me the bounty hunter was definitely someone to be wary of.
I let Gentry and Sydney finish their meal in peace. Eventually, they came over to the counter to pay up and leave. Somewhere along the way, Gentry had found a toothpick in one of her pockets that she'd stuck in one corner of her mouth, giving her a hillbilly air.
"That was a fine meal," Gentry said, digging into her jeans and coming up with some small, crumpled bills.
The motion pushed back her jacket, and I spied the pearl revolver sitting in a holster on her black leather belt.
"Thanks," I murmured, careful not to stare at the gun. "But I can't take all the credit. Most of it goes to my cook over there."
Gentry's eyes flicked to Sophia, lingering on the spiked, black leather collar around her neck. She tipped her head to the dwarf. "My thanks then."
Sophia just grunted and turned back to the stove.
While I totaled the order and made change, my eyes strayed to Sydney. She stared at one of the glass cake stands full of sinfully sweet sugar cookies that sat on the counter. Hunger and longing filled her hazel eyes, but she bit her lip and looked away from the treats.
Her small, wistful gaze hurt worse than a knife ripping into my heart.
I remembered feeling that way once upon a time, back when I'd been living on the Ashland streets. I'd spent hours staring in through restaurant windows and longing for all the food I saw inside-food that was hot, clean, and free of the worms and maggots that littered the scraps I'd been eating out of the Dumpsters. Oh yes, I'd stood outside those restaurants, and I'd stared in, hunger twisting my stomach into knots so hard and tight that I thought they would never straighten out again.
Some sort of wild, crazy emotion seized me then, and I put Gentry's change down on the counter. Before I knew quite what I was doing, I'd lifted the glass lid on the stand of cookies, gathered them all up, and dropped them into a white paper bag, which I shoved into the girl's thin chest. Sydney stared down at the pig logo printed on the side of the bag, the longing in her eyes so bright and hard that it took my breath away.
"Take 'em," I said in a thick voice. "We're getting ready to close, and they won't be eaten tonight."
Surprise filled the girl's thin face, followed by a more tremulous emotion-hope. Her hands tightened around the bag, making the paper crack and crinkle. I wondered how long it had been since she'd had something as simple as a cookie. I wondered how long it had been since someone besides Gentry had done something nice for her. I wondered-I wondered too f**king much. Saw too much of myself in her, in Gentry. They were hunting me, hunting Bria. That made them my enemies, nothing more.
"Can I, Gentry?" the girl asked in a faint, whispered voice, looking over at her mentor. "Please?"
Another sad smile creased Gentry's face, making her look old, small, and tired. "Of course, Sydney. Just remember your manners to the nice lady."
Nice lady? If Gentry only knew that I was the one that she was looking for-that I was the Spider. The wanted assassin who could net her upward of five million dollars. Gentry would snatch those cookies out of Sydney's hands and draw her revolver faster than I could palm one of my silverstone knives.
Sydney beamed at her, then me. "Thank you, ma'am."
"It's Gin," I quipped. "Like the liquor. Not ma'am. I hate it when people call me ma'am."
Sydney mumbled an apology around the cookie that she'd already stuffed into her mouth. I picked up Gentry's change from the counter and passed it over to her. The bounty hunter took it and stared at me, her sharp eyes searching my face for something that only she knew or could even see.
For a moment, I wondered if she'd figured it out. If she realized exactly who I was.
But then, when she didn't draw her revolver, I knew that she hadn't and that she wouldn't. Because how could an assassin like the Spider, a cold-hearted killer, ever do something as good as give food to a hungry girl?
"Thank you, Gin," Gentry said in a soft voice. "For everything."
"No problem," I replied in a mild tone, playing the part of the simple restaurant owner once more. "Y'all come back now."
Gentry gave me a small smile. "We will."
Then she put her arm around Sydney, who was on her third cookie, and the bounty hunter and her apprentice left the Pork Pit.
Chapter 16
"What do you think?" I asked. "Is it too much?"
Finn tilted his head and gave me a critical once-over. "You're dressed up as an ice queen dominatrix. I don't think there is such a thing as too much."
I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror that had been set up in the den in Fletcher's house. Trust Finn to perfectly describe my garish getup. I wore a pair of ice blue leather pants that laced all the way up my legs on both sides. A leather bustier done in the same color and trimmed with silver thread covered my chest, pushing my br**sts up to new and spectacular heights. A matching collar set with silverstone squares ringed my neck.
A leather jacket covered the bustier, which let me tuck my two usual silverstone knives up my sleeves. I sported another knife against the small of my back, while two more waited in the sides of my stiletto boots.
Jo-Jo had come over a little while ago to do my makeup, which consisted of rimming my eyes with silver liner and painting my lashes and lips the same cold color. The dwarf had also pulled my chocolate brown hair up into a high, tight ponytail and sprinkled silver glitter over the slicked-back locks. All put together, I looked like I was in the mood for a night of cold sex and frostbitten pain.
"Where did you get all this leather from?" I asked, turning to stare at myself from another angle.