By a Thread (39 page)

Her friend squeezed back. “Me too. And it's all thanks to you.”

Bria shook her head. “Thank Gin. Not me.”

“I already have,” Callie said. “Many times. I even offered to pay her what I could for doing her . . . ah . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and she winced. Callie still wasn't completely comfortable with the knowledge that I was an assassin, but I couldn't blame her for that. I was just glad she'd accepted me as much as she had for Bria's sake. I didn't want things to be awkward
between the two of them—not because of me.

“Pro bono work,” I said in a helpful voice.

“Right. Pro bono work,” Callie finished. “But she wouldn't hear of it.”

“Keep your money,” I said, waving my hand. “Taking care of a scumbag like Dekes was its own reward. Trust me on that.”

Callie bit her lip and nodded. Then she turned back to Bria.

“Anyway, I have a question for you. Back before all this started, I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my maid of honor. The wedding's not too far away. Besides, you know how much I've always wanted to make you wear a horrible bridesmaid's dress,” she joked. “Something with bows and lace and in a totally ridiculous color that will look hideous on you.”

Bria's blue eyes flicked to me and then farther down the table to Donovan, who was talking to Jo-Jo. I hadn't told Bria what had happened between Donovan and me, but my sister was a cop. She was good at reading people and sniffing out secrets. She knew there was something going on with me and the detective—she just didn't know what it was. I also hoped she knew that I would never do anything to purposely hurt her friend.

“I'd love to be your maid of honor, Callie,” Bria finally said. “You know that.”

The two of them put their heads together and started talking about dresses, color schemes, and hairstyles. I sat back and let their cheerful words wash over me before looking up and down the table at my friends and family. It was calm, quiet, happy moments
like this that made what I'd suffered because of Dekes and all the other bad guys like him worthwhile, and I was determined to savor it, to tuck it into my heart so that I would always remember and appreciate it.

We talked, laughed, and joked for the better part of two hours. But eventually, all of the food was eaten, and the conversations wound down. One by one, we got to our feet and drifted toward the door. Jo-Jo and Sophia were the first ones to leave, with Jo-Jo saying that she had to have the salon open in the morning or her regular customers would be beating down her front door with axes to get inside and have their hair and nails done. Jo-Jo hugged everyone a final time, then followed Sophia out the door. A minute later, I heard the Goth dwarf's convertible start up and zoom out of the sandy lot.

Vanessa and Victoria said their good-byes as well, adding they were headed back to the beach house. I'd managed to get the rental on the property extended through the end of the summer, which would give them plenty of time to find a place of their own if the two women didn't just go ahead and move into the lavish penthouse suite at the Blue Sands hotel. Finn was all for that idea and for coming back down soon for another weekend of pampering—on the house, of course.

“Is he always so shamelessly greedy?” Vanessa whispered to me at one point.

“Yes,” I said. “But the man can do magical things with money. Trust me. You won't find anyone better than Finn to help you get a handle on Dekes's business interests.”

Once Vanessa and Victoria
stepped outside, that left Finn, Bria, Callie, Donovan, Owen, and me in the restaurant to say our good-byes. The others headed for the front door, but the detective grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

“Gin?” Donovan asked in a low voice. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

Donovan had been a few seats down from me on the opposite side of the table. The detective hadn't spoken much during lunch, although he'd laughed and joked at the appropriate times. Mostly, though, he'd been sneaking glances at me.

I stared at the detective, then looked over my shoulder at the others. My gaze locked with Owen's, and once again, I wondered at the love that I saw there for me—the love and the trust and how I'd ever been lucky enough to earn either one of them. I nodded at Owen, and he nodded back. He knew I needed to talk to Donovan one last time, that I needed to say some things to the detective that were a long time coming, and he was enough of a man to let me do that without interfering.

Owen stepped outside, but he wasn't the only one who'd noticed that the detective had drawn me aside—so had Bria. My sister raised her eyebrows and jerked her head at the door.

“Gin?” she asked, a warning tone creeping into her voice. “Aren't you ready to leave yet? I thought that you wanted to get back home before dark.”

“Y'all go on ahead,” I said. “There's one more thing that I need to wrap up with Donovan. It won't take but a minute. I promise.”

Bria shot me a worried
glance. She knew just how much damage could be done in a minute, especially between old lovers. But Callie looped her arm through my sister's and pulled them both outside, either oblivious or unconcerned about the looming drama. The screen door banged shut behind them, and their voices faded away as they walked out into the parking lot.

I turned back around to stare at Donovan. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

The detective looked at me, an agonized expression on his face, his fingers curling and uncurling into fists by his sides, his whole body tight and rigid with tension—but still he didn't move. Our eyes locked together, and I saw all these conflicting emotions shimmering in his bright gaze. Heat, need, desire, guilt—but still he didn't move.

The seconds ticked by. Ten . . . twenty . . . thirty . . . forty-five . . .

Finally, Donovan jerked forward, pulled me into his arms, and crushed his lips to mine.

27

Donovan wrapped his arms
around me and pulled me even closer, grinding our bodies together. His soapy scent filled my nose, and his tongue flicked against my lips, trying to get me to open up to him.

“Gin,” Donovan rasped against my mouth, his arms tightening around me that much more, as if he could somehow drag me inside his own body. “Oh, Gin. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” I said in a wry tone, feeling his erection pressing against my thigh.

Donovan didn't seem to notice the sarcasm in my voice. Instead, he pressed another feverish kiss to my mouth and ran his hands up and down my back. There was no denying that the detective was an attractive man, and back before he'd dumped me, I would have been happy to go along with things just like he wanted me to. Hell, I probably would have already suggested that we see just how sturdy the table
closest to us really was. I wasn't shy about getting what I wanted, and for a long time, that had been Donovan Caine.

But for the first time, his touch left me completely cold. I didn't feel anything when he kissed me, and his lean, strong body failed to stir any sort of warmth or desire in me. Even his clean scent seemed to have taken on a sour, bitter note.

“You have no idea how I want you now,” he repeated. “How I've always wanted you. I know that it's wrong, I know what you are, I know that you're an assassin, but I'll be damned if I can keep from wanting you. Just looking at you drives me crazy. I've replayed the nights that we were together a thousand times in my mind, remembering the way you felt against me, the way I felt when I was holding you. I just can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try. And you know what? I don't want to try anymore. I just want you, Gin.”

He drew back, his golden eyes bright and earnest in his face. He obviously expected me to say something along the lines of how much I'd always wanted him too and how we could pick right back up where we'd left off. But the detective was about to be seriously disappointed—in all sorts of ways.

“Is that all you have to say?” I asked.

His black eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Isn't that enough? I want you. What more
is
there to say?”

He reached for me again, and I drove my fist into his stomach as hard as I could.

Donovan gasped and stumbled back, grabbing one of the tables for support. He looked at me with a surprised expression on his face, and I
knew it had never occurred to him that I would turn him down, that I would say no to him, that I'd fucking gotten
over
him. But that had always been the problem with Donovan—he thought he was so much better than I was. Maybe he was, but now I realized he didn't have a right to look down on me either. Owen had taught me that by accepting me for who and what I was—knives, blood, and all.

“Gin?” Donovan asked in an uncertain voice.

I stared at him with cold, dispassionate eyes. “First of all, nobody, and I mean
no damn body
, touches me without my permission, much less tries to stick his tongue down my throat without my consent and express invitation. And second, what you're feeling right now? The sharp ache in your chest? The trouble breathing? That's exactly what I felt when you turned your back on me outside Dawson's mine. Do you remember that, Donovan? Because I certainly do. I didn't expect you to turn cartwheels that day, but it would have been nice if you hadn't been so fucking
disappointed
that I was still alive and around to tempt you with my wicked, wicked wiles. And then, to add insult to injury, you came to the Pork Pit later on and spelled out exactly how much you didn't want to be with me. How do you think all that made me feel? I'll give you a clue—not good. Not good at all. Now, instead of offering me some sort of apology for the shitty way that you treated me, you expect me to be just as happy to play grab-ass as you are, as though nothing bad ever happened between us.”

Donovan rubbed his chest and slowly straightened up. “You're angry, and you have every right to be. I was a fool to act the way I did toward
you. I'm sorry for that. Sorrier than you'll ever know. I thought about calling you a dozen times after I left Ashland, but I just couldn't. I knew that if I heard your voice again, I'd be tempted to go back to the city—to go back to you. Now I'm sorry that I didn't call you, that I didn't go back.”

I shook my head. “That's where you're right—and wrong too. Yes, you were a fool to walk away from me, but your doing that was the best thing that ever happened to me because it let me find Owen.”

Donovan frowned. “Grayson? But you just took up with him because I left town. We all know that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what? You think that I'm just going to forget about Owen and happily fall back into your arms now because you've finally gotten off your high horse and decided that you want me? Or at least want to fuck me again? Are you really that arrogant, Detective?”

He winced, but he stubbornly lifted his chin. He wasn't going to take back his words because we both knew they were partially true.

“Tell me that I'm wrong,” he challenged. “Tell me that you didn't start sleeping with Grayson just because he was there.”

“Well, I do have slightly higher standards than that. But yeah, maybe that's how it started out with me and Owen,” I said. “Maybe I was lonely and hurting because of you and how shitty you made me feel about myself and what I do. But I love Owen, and he loves me. What we have is real—the forever kind of real. More than that, Owen accepts me for who and what I am. He knows that I'm an assassin, but
he's not hung up on it like you always were. Like you still are.”

Donovan stared at me, guilt flickering in his eyes, along with just a touch of shame. Yeah, he still wanted me, but he still wanted to keep his conscience clean too, and that just wasn't going to happen. Even if I wanted to, there was no way I could ever stop being the Spider—not now, not after killing Mab. The Ashland underworld was in major turmoil, and probably would be for some time to come, which meant the bad guys were going to keep coming after me. Donovan would just never understand this need that I had to take them on and to try to help all the innocent people I could. He would just never understand that sometimes my way was the only way to help folks—folks like Callie who didn't have the money or darkness inside them to go toe-to-toe with the people threatening them.