I palmed one of my silverstone knives and started flipping it end over end in my hand. "Actually, I shoved my knife into the bitch's black heart. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life."
He watched me turn the knife over and over again. "I bet it was."
After a moment, he drew in a breath and continued with his dossier. "Everyone knows about your supposed . . . skills, but what's really interesting, at least to me, is that you've been seen out and about on the town with Owen Grayson these last few months. I wouldn't think an assassin like you would indulge in such a relationship - any relationship, really. But the two of you seem quite taken with each other."
Kincaid's voice was smooth, but his tone darkened when he said Owen's name, as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. A small tell, but a tell nonetheless in this verbal game we were playing.
"That's it?" I asked when he didn't say anything else. "That's all you know? You're not going to stand there and tell me what my favorite color is or how I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid?"
Kincaid gave me a thin smile, but he didn't respond to my taunts.
"Well, I have to hand it to you, Philly. It looks like you know everything there is to know about me. But you're not the only one who's been doing his homework."
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Please. Enlighten me."
"Phillip Kincaid, owner of the Delta Queen riverboat casino and one of the richest and most powerful men in Ashland. To most folks, you're a self-made man, a guy with nothing who came from out of nowhere and built a massive fortune. In addition to the Delta Queen, you also have riverboats in several other cities, including Memphis and New Orleans, and there are rumors you're starting a new project down in Blue Marsh."
Kincaid grinned. "I suppose I have you to thank for that last one, don't I, Gin? Now that Randall Dekes is no longer an issue down there. It seems the Spider never takes a vacation. At least not without killing someone."
I ignored his words. "But there's a lot more to you than just your portfolio and the official rags-to-riches story on your corporate website, isn't there, Philly?"
"Like what?"
"Like the fact that you're an orphan. Supposedly, your father was a dwarf and your mother was a giant, which means you're probably quite strong, at least stronger than a regular human would be. You certainly have the solid physique and thick muscles for it. But who your parents were doesn't much matter since you never knew either one of them, does it? You got anonymously dropped off at a church when you were about two years old. From then on, you bounced around from foster home to foster home, going from one bad situation to the next. Tell me, did those cigarette burns on your arms ever heal up?"
Kincaid blinked in surprise. Apparently, he hadn't thought I'd be able to find all the skeletons in his closet as easily as he had the ones in mine, but I had, thanks to Finn. Sometimes I thought my foster brother must be part bloodhound, the way he could track down leads and run them to ground with only a whiff of information to go on.
"You got those burns when you were thirteen, right?" I said. "And a whole lot of other injuries. Cuts, bruises, a few broken bones. At that foster home where the man of the house drank like a fish and liked to smack around his wife and the kids in his care when he'd had a few too many. Funny thing about that guy. Shortly after child services noted the burns on your arms, a robber broke into the house and almost beat that man to death with a metal pipe. That's what the wife claimed in the police report, anyway. But you know what I think, Philly? That thirteen wasn't an important year for just me."
His blue eyes glittered with a cold light, but he didn't respond.
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "I think the bastard got exactly what he deserved. Actually, I'd say he got off easy. I would have stabbed him to death."
Kincaid snorted, but he didn't say anything, so I continued.
"Maybe you were scared the cops would put you in juvie for what you did to that guy, maybe you were scared of him beating on you again when he got out of the hospital, or maybe you just decided you'd rather fend for yourself. Either way, there's no record of you in any foster home after that. In fact, you dropped off the map entirely for a few years there, which leads me to believe you were living on the Southtown streets and scrounging for whatever food, clothes, and money you could find, cheat, beg, borrow, or steal. Eventually, you joined some of the lower-level crews in Ashland, working your way up through the ranks until you decided to branch out on your own. Somewhere along the way, you dreamed up the idea for the Delta Queen and made it a reality. Even more impressive is the fact that you've managed to hang on to it all these years despite Mab and other folks trying to wrestle it away from you. So bravo to you."
I stopped twirling my knife long enough to walk over and pick up the gin and tonic from the bar. I toasted him with the drink, then used the glass to gesture at all the action figures and movie posters. "Now, seeing your office, I assume you growing up as poor and shitty as you did is the reason for all of this. The posters, the movies, the popcorn machine. That you're indulging yourself now with all the things you didn't have as a kid. I also assume that's the reason you gulped down your food at the Pork Pit the other day like you were afraid I was going to take it away from you. Because you have had your food taken away in the past. Because you've gone to sleep hungry more times than you'd care to remember."
Kincaid looked around the office as if he was seeing all the things inside it for the very first time - and, more important, what they revealed about him. His mouth twisted with disgust, but I couldn't tell if it was with himself for being so easy to read or with me for dredging up so many bad memories. Then his gaze dropped to the drink still in his hand, and he tossed it back as easily as he had the whiskey before. He put the empty glass down on the bar.
"Well, it seems like you've got me all figured out, Gin. Want to tell me what my favorite color is? Although, for the record, I wanted a kitten, not a puppy, when I was a kid."
"Not quite," I said. "As interesting as our life stories are, they don't explain what happened to Antonio tonight. So why don't we save the reminiscing and one-upmanship for some other time, and get down to business, with me asking the questions and you giving me the answers just as quick as you can."
"And if I don't want to answer your questions?"
I put my gin down on the bar and bared my teeth at him in a predatory smile. "Then I hope you enjoyed that drink, because it's the last f**king one you'll ever have."