“Gin?”
I smiled because he expected me to, even though getting my own apartment was the last thing on my mind right now. Still, I knew that he was trying to do something nice, trying to tell me that I’d proven myself in more ways than one tonight.
“Yeah,” I said. “That would be great.”
He nodded, and we both fell silent.
I leaned my head against the car window, breathed through another surge of pain, and brooded into the night, still thinking of Sebastian and everything that had happened between us. With every mile that passed, I slowly let his betrayal and cruelty ice over the few soft parts of my heart that were left, and I vowed never to let them thaw again.
Not for anyone.
Ever.
36
PRESENT DAY
I finished my story and leaned back, feeling tired and drained, as though I’d just relived the whole fight with Sebastian and had once again suffered all the injuries that he’d inflicted on my body and my heart back then. It took me a moment to let go of the memories and realize that I was in the Pork Pit, that what I had described had taken place ten years ago, instead of just ten minutes ago.
“You?” Owen asked. “You killed Sebastian Vaughn?”
I grinned. “Who else?”
“I remember that,” he said. “It was the talk of Ashland for weeks. It was all over the news. How part of the mansion was destroyed, how the cops found a dead giant inside the house and then Sebastian out in the greenhouse. From what I remember, the police thought that the same person who killed Cesar had killed Sebastian too.”
I grimaced. “Well, they were actually right about that. For a change.”
Owen took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t ask me to say anything else, and he didn’t make any comments about what I’d told him. He simply let me know that he was here for me.
“And to think,” he murmured. “We actually met back then.”
“I know,” I replied. “I’d mostly forgotten about it until now. Did you ever think about that girl you picked up on the side of the road that night?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “I hoped that she—you—were okay. And that you’d told that dick boyfriend of yours what was what.”
“Well, I guess I did that, after all.”
I grimaced again, and Owen tightened his grip on my hand.
We stayed like that for a while before he reached out and picked up one of the roses, twirling it around in his hand.
He frowned. “But I don’t understand. Why the roses? Why the note? Why now, ten years later, on the day you killed Sebastian? Who sent them? You killed Sebastian and Porter and even Cesar. There’s nobody left.”
I reached out and fingered the edge of one of the petals. Soft and smooth, just like Sebastian had said.
“You’re forgetting,” I said. “I let one person live.”
It was a few minutes before midnight when the woman turned on the lights in the library and stepped back into the arms of the man she was with. Both of them were in their twenties, giggling, kissing, and messing around the way young couples do. The guy was a cute blond, with short, spiky hair and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. The woman was a brunette, with a short bob of black hair and expressive brown eyes.
I stood in the shadows and watched them canoodle. If it went any further, I’d have to excuse myself quietly and come back another night. I wasn’t much for being a voyeur. But I hoped they would wrap up their little tête-à-tête soon. I wanted to finish this—tonight.
Finally, reluctantly, the woman pulled back. “Sorry, babe, but I’ve got some work that I’ve got to get done tonight. See you in thirty?”
The guy gave her a coy smile. “I’ll draw us a bath. But don’t wait too long . . . or the water might get cold. Me too.”
The two kissed again before the guy left the library. The woman watched him go, a small smile playing across her lips. Then she turned to the desk in the back of the room and headed toward it.
It took her three steps before she noticed the white paper bag bearing the Pork Pit’s pig logo that I’d placed in the middle of the desk, along with the chocolate-chip cookie cake. She hurried over to the desk and stared down at the message I’d written in chocolate icing on the cake. Happy (Late) Birthday.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and her gaze shot around the library, looking for me. So I stepped out into the light where she could see me.
“Hello, Charlotte,” I said.
Charlotte Vaughn drew in a startled breath, and her hand flew to her throat, clutching the pink cameo she wore there, the same one she’d gotten at her birthday party all those years ago.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “You scared me to death.”
I gave her a thin smile. “We both know that I could do a lot more than that if I wanted to.”
Charlotte’s dark eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, Gin?”
“I don’t know. Were the roses a threat?”
She stared at me. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, your brother gave me roses like that once upon a time. Things didn’t turn out that well for any of us—you, me, him.”
Charlotte’s gaze flicked to the mantel over the fireplace, where a series of photos in silver frames were propped up. I’d looked at them earlier when I’d first come into the library. Most of the photos showed a teenage Charlotte with her father, but there was one of Sebastian standing by himself, smiling for the camera. His smile was the same as I remembered—smug, confident, cocky. I hadn’t forgotten one thing about him, but it had still been like a kick to the gut to see his smiling face, frozen in time.
Charlotte glanced at the photo of Sebastian for a moment before turning away. “No, things didn’t turn out so well for Sebastian—or my father.”
Her mouth tightened, and pain flashed in her eyes, along with more than a little anger.
“You have every right to hate me for what I did to him. I took him away from you. Not Sebastian, not anyone else, just me.”
Charlotte let out a bitter laugh. “Well, you might have killed him, but Sebastian put you up to it. Even as a kid, I knew that. If it hadn’t been you, he would have found some other assassin to do the job. I don’t blame you for Papa’s death. Well, not as much as I blame Sebastian.”
“So why the roses? Why the cryptic message? Why now?”
She shrugged. “I suppose I wanted to see if you remembered me after all these years. If you remembered Papa . . . and Sebastian.”