By a Thread (8 page)

“There's more, isn't there?” I asked her.

There always was in situations like this one.

“Real estate isn't all that Dekes is into,” Bria said. “I started investigating him just before I left to go back to Ashland. Extortion, intimidation, gambling, prostitution, murder. He's got quite a racket going, and his hands are in practically every legal and illegal business on the island. And it's not just here. He has interests up and down the East Coast, from the Outer Banks of North Carolina all the way south to Key West.”

“In other words, Randall Dekes is the Mab Monroe of Blue Marsh,” I said.

Bria nodded. “Only he hides it a lot better than she did. He's buddy-buddy with all the local politicians, gives money to the fire and police departments, sponsors kids' sports teams, things like that. He's a very slick salesman that way. He also happens to be a very old and very powerful vampire. Some folks say that he has elemental magic too, although I don't know if that's true or not.”

Despite all the popular myths and stories out there, vampires were born, not made, just like everyone else was. They had heartbeats, breathed air, and could walk around in the sun just as easily as I could. Vamps could wear as much silver as they wanted, and garlic didn't do any more than give them bad breath or the occasional case of indigestion.

Just about the only myth that was true when it came to vampires was that they all needed blood to live, in addition to more mundane food. To them, sucking down a pint of O-positive was
just like regular humans chowing down on a steak. Animal blood would do in a pinch, but most vamps preferred people blood, and there were dedicated vampire blood banks that paid folks very well to come by and donate as often as they could. The blood banks then turned around and distributed all those precious pints like cartons of milk, with a slight markup, of course.

The twist was that vampires got more than just nutrition from blood, depending on whose platelets they were dining on. Regular old human blood was enough to give most vampires enhanced senses, extra strength, and lightning-fast reflexes. It was when they drank from other magic users that things got really interesting.

A vampire who chugged down the blood of a dwarf or giant would take on characteristics of those races and become just as strong as dwarves and giants naturally were—at least until the blood cycled out of the vamp's system like food moving through a human's body. Vampires who drank blood from elementals got the ability to use that person's power, whether it was Air, Fire, Ice, Stone, or one of the offshoots of those areas, like electricity, acid, water, or metal. And of course some vamps were elementals themselves—they had the inherent magic flowing through their veins already, just like Bria and I did.

Whether he had elemental magic himself or stole it from his victims, Randall Dekes sounded like a very dangerous man.

“You know, Dekes has offered me far more than what the Sea Breeze is worth,” Callie said, interrupting my thoughts. “He's even promised me a job heading up one of the new restaurants in the
resort complex.”

“So what's the problem?” I asked.

She looked at Bria. “There was a fire about a week ago at an ice-cream shop not too far from here. Remember Stu Alexander?”

Bria nodded. “He used to give us free chocolate-dipped cones sometimes when we went into his shop. He was such a sweet old man. I remember he sent flowers to my parents' funerals, even though he didn't know them or me very well.”

“Well, he was killed in the fire. Burned alive inside his own store. Stu Alexander, who never hurt anyone in his entire life. I still can't quite believe it.” Callie wrapped her arms around herself, but she couldn't completely hide her shiver. “The cops are still trying to determine whether it was an accident.”

“But you don't think it was an accident,” I said.

Callie stared at the floor. “I went into the shop the day before the fire to pick up an ice-cream cake for one of the waitresses' birthdays. Stu told me that Dekes and some of his men had been by the shop that morning. That Dekes said it was his last chance to sell out or else. Stu loved his store just as much as I do the Sea Breeze. It was his whole life. He said he'd told Dekes that he was never going to sell, no matter how much money the vampire offered him. Stu even bragged about how he got his gun out from behind the counter and got Dekes and his men to leave. But the next day, Stu was dead.”

She shivered again. “Of course, I told the police what Stu told me, but they say they can't do anything without proof. Stu was the last holdout besides me.”

This wasn't the first time I'd encountered a situation like this. Not too long
ago, I'd helped out Warren Fox, an old friend of Fletcher's. A coal tycoon named Tobias Dawson had secretly discovered diamonds on Warren's land and had done everything he could to get his hands on them, even sending someone to rape and kill Warren's granddaughter, Violet. I'd stopped Dawson, though—one of my growing number of pro bono deeds as the Spider.

“Why didn't you tell me about all of this?” Bria asked. “I could have helped you before it got this far.”

Callie shrugged. “Whenever I've called lately, you've always sounded busy, distracted, worried. It seemed like you were having enough problems of your own in Ashland, and I didn't want to bother you with mine.”

Bria's gaze cut to me, and I knew what she was thinking. That maybe if she hadn't been so busy looking for her long-lost big sister, Genevieve Snow, looking for the Spider, looking for me, maybe Callie would have told her about Dekes. Then maybe Bria could have figured out a way to help her friend before now—and maybe even saved an old man from being murdered. Bria didn't say anything, but I could see the guilt glimmering in her eyes—along with that anger again.

Anger at me and the fact that I hadn't come straight out and told Bria who I really was when she'd come back to Ashland. Anger that I'd let Mab capture her. Anger that the Fire elemental had tortured her, despite my promises to keep that from ever happening. I didn't think Bria was wrong to blame me. I'd failed to protect her when it mattered most, something that would always haunt me.

Mab Monroe might be dead,
but I wondered if things would ever really be right between me and my sister. If the Fire elemental and the two divergent paths that she had put me and Bria on, the things that she'd done to us, would ever really be forgotten—or forgiven.

But that was a worry for another day. Right now, the question was what to do about Randall Dekes. Was taking down Dekes the smart thing to do? I had few doubts it was the right thing, given everything that Callie had said and what I'd witnessed here in the restaurant tonight.

But I'd come to Blue Marsh to get away from my troubles as the Spider, not throw myself knives-first into someone else's problem, especially someone that I didn't have any real connection to. Callie was Bria's friend, not mine. But that was the catch—Bria loved Callie like a sister, and I loved Bria. I'd do anything for my sister, including protect her friend the best way that I knew how.

I hadn't known Stu Alexander, but I could keep Callie from ending up like him. I could keep Bria from crying over her best friend's grave like she had her parents' earlier today. I could do at least that much for my sister. I didn't know if it would make up for everything she'd suffered because of me, but all I could do was keep trying—and hope that it counted for something with Bria in the end.

“What if I told you that I could help you with Dekes?” I asked Callie. “That I could get him to leave you alone—for good?”

Bria sighed, knowing what was coming next. “Gin . . .”

She didn't get to finish her thought. The screen door creaked open, and quick footsteps sounded, hurrying across the wooden floor.

“Callie!” a worried voice called out. “Are you okay?”

This time, I was the one
who froze—shocked into absolute stillness just like everyone else had been earlier. I couldn't have been more surprised, more stunned, than if the ground had opened up at my feet and Mab had crawled out of her grave right in front of me.

I'd never thought I'd hear the light, quick tread of his footsteps again. I'd never thought I'd hear that low, sexy, slightly raspy voice again. I'd never thought I'd see him again, not after everything that had happened, not after the bitter way that things had ended between us.

Not after he'd walked away from me without so much as a backward glance.

For a moment, I sat there, still frozen, wondering if I was just imagining things, if my mind was playing tricks on me—cruel, cruel tricks.

“Callie?” he asked again, drawing closer. “Why aren't there any customers? Where's the rest of the staff? And who are these women?”

I breathed in, and his familiar scent filled my nose—that sharp, clean scent that always made me think of soap. And I knew that I wasn't wrong or mistaken or just imagining things.

I drew in a breath and slowly swiveled around on my stool.

Detective Donovan Caine stood behind me.

5

The last time I'd seen Donovan Caine had been when
he'd dumped me at the Pork Pit, ending our brief but intense affair. That had been several months ago, but he still looked the same as I remembered—the same as I'd pictured him in my mind more than once on a late, lonely night, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Whom he might be with.

His black hair was cropped close, looking as dark as midnight above his smoky, topaz-colored eyes. He had a strong chin and smooth bronze skin that hinted at his Hispanic heritage. Donovan topped out at just over six feet, and the blue suit he wore showed just how lean and muscled his body was. He wasn't wearing a tie, and his white button-down shirt was open at the throat. His hair was also standing straight up, like he'd been running his hands through it.

Still, despite his rumpled
appearance, he looked . . . calmer, happier, and more at peace than I'd ever seen him.

Donovan stared at Callie, making sure that she was all right, before turning his attention to Bria, then me. He started to look back at Callie but did a double take instead, his golden gaze locking with my gray one.

In that moment, I remembered how he'd felt pressed up against me, how he'd whispered my name over and over again, how he'd made me feel—and then how he'd walked away without giving me a chance. Without giving
us
a chance. My heart constricted in my chest, squeezing in on itself, but I couldn't tell whether it was with longing or anger.

His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and all the color drained out of his face. “Gin? Gin Blanco?”

I tried to smile, but I couldn't quite make my lips turn up. “The one and the same. Hello, Donovan. You're looking well.”

Donovan blinked several times, as if I were a ghost and he could somehow banish my image just by staring right through me. When that didn't work, his gaze went to Pete and Trent, who were still out cold on the floor.

“Your work, I assume?” he said, leaning over and checking each man's neck for a pulse.

“Of course.”

“I'm surprised they're not dead,” he muttered, and straightened back up.

I suppose I could have told him that I hadn't come here looking for trouble. That I was trying to relax this weekend, not carve up bad guys for kicks. That they'd started it, not me, and that they
were damn lucky I hadn't finished it—permanently. But the fact that one of the first things out of his mouth was an insult after all this time made my hackles rise.

I grinned, baring my teeth at him. “What can I say? I've mellowed since the last time we spoke, Detective.”

Donovan looked at me, I looked at him, and Callie and Bria stared at both of us, wondering what the hell was going on. Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Finally, Bria cleared her throat, stepped forward, and held out her hand. “I'm Detective Bria Coolidge.”