"Oh."

Bria didn't ask me to elaborate on what I'd seen, and I didn't offer to tell her. It was one thing to know that your family had been murdered, to live your whole life with that pain, with that pulsing, hollow ache in your chest. It was another to hear the play-by-play, color commentary from someone who'd been there. From your big sister, who hadn't been able to do a damn thing to save the rest of your family.

I rolled over, turning away from her. Moonlight slipped in through the lace curtains, slicing everything with its silver cracks. That's how I felt right now-cold and cracked and hollow and empty.

"I'm sorry that I woke you, Bria. You can go back to bed now. I'll be fine. I usually never have more than one of those dreams a night," I said. "So go. Try to get some rest."

I waited for her to turn around, close the door behind her, and leave. I waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade away. I waited for the ache of her absence and alienation to fill me once more.

Instead of leaving, Bria lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with me. She hesitated, then scooted over next to me, until we were spooned together. It was something that we used to do when we were little girls. One of us would have a bad dream and would go get into bed with the other. Somehow, the two of us-together-were always able to go back to sleep, with no more bad dreams or nightmares.

It was something that I hadn't thought about in years, but now I remembered all those nights, and I knew that Bria did too. My baby sister moved closer still to me, her arm slipping up and over my waist, hugging me to her just the faintest bit.

"It's okay, Gin," Bria whispered against my damp hair. "I'm here now. We're together now. Somehow, we'll find a way to take down Mab-together. I promise you that."

Tears spilled down my cheeks at her soft, simple words, but I made no move to brush them away. I didn't want her to know that I was crying. I didn't want her to see me like this. Weak, emotional, unbalanced, uncertain. I was the big sister here. Genevieve Snow, Gin Blanco, the Spider. I should be taking care of her, not the other way around.

But all that didn't keep me from reaching down, covering her hand with my own, and giving it a gentle squeeze. Bria snuggled a little closer to me and let out a soft sigh of understanding-and maybe contentment too.

Curled together, we lay there in bed until sleep claimed us once more.

Chapter 14

Bria slept in late the next morning. Not surprising. Being magically healed by Jo-Jo had left her feeling drained, as her mind tried to catch up to the fact that her body was suddenly well again, despite the beating she'd taken from the dwarven bounty hunter last night.

I'd been injured and healed as well, so I felt a little sluggish myself. But I didn't have the luxury of staying in bed, since I still had appearances to keep up and a barbecue restaurant to run. I woke Bria up long enough to get her to promise me that she'd stay put in the house today, then left to go to work.

The day passed by like any other at the Pork Pit. Sophia and I served up hot, steaming barbecue beef and pork sandwiches, along with thick, juicy cheeseburgers, sweet-and-sour coleslaw, baked beans, and more. All the while, a vat of Fletcher's secret barbecue sauce simmered on the back of the stove, flavoring the air with its spicy cumin kick.

People packed into the restaurant, standing three and four deep at the counter during the lunch rush. Everyone wanted a warm meal on such a cold, blustery day, and Catalina Vasquez and the rest of the waitresses who'd made it to work today swiped the plates of food as fast as Sophia and I could dish them up.

Still, despite the crush of bodies, I kept an eye on everyone who came and left the restaurant. Now that I knew exactly who and what I was looking for, I spotted more than a few of the bounty hunters. Men and women with hard, flat features and even harder eyes who watched everyone and everything around them, even while they were stuffing their faces with barbecue. Real rough types, who'd turn on you in a heartbeat if they thought there was any money to be made from the effort. In some ways, bounty hunters were worse than assassins. Assassins only wanted you dead, but bounty hunters were more than happy to deliver you into the hands of your worst enemy-alive-and all the implied tortures that went along with that, as long as they got paid in the end.

I kept a close eye on the bounty hunters who came into the Pork Pit, but none of them paid me any attention that they shouldn't. They were here for the food and nothing else.

I didn't know whether to be flattered or worried.

Finally, around three o'clock, after the daily lunch rush had come and gone, and the crowd had dwindled to only a few diners, the bell over the front door chimed, and Owen stepped inside.

He wore a tailored, navy suit that could be found in the closet of any wealthy Ashland businessman, topped by a long, matching coat. But on Owen, the layers of fabric went from being merely expensive to exquisite, draping over his shoulders just so and highlighting his tall, broad frame. Still, all the worsted wool in the world couldn't hide the strength of his body, the inherent toughness that radiated off him like the faintest flicker of heat from a burning candle. The dark blue color brought out the paleness of his skin, although his cheeks were red and ruddy from the cold. My gaze lingered on his chiseled features-the scar that slashed across his chin, the crooked quirk of his nose, the intense violet of his eyes. All things that made Owen go from merely sexy to heart-stoppingly devastating.

Owen stared at me, and I looked back at him. Emotions sparked and shimmered in the air between us. Heat. Desire. Need. Longing.

After a moment, his lips lifted into a sly, playful grin, and an answering rush of warmth flooded my heart. Owen had forgiven me for going after Mab by myself. He wouldn't have looked at me like that otherwise-not with such heat, not with such hope. The knowledge loosened a thick knot of tension in my stomach that I hadn't even been aware of until right now.

Looked like Finn wasn't the only one around here who had it bad for someone.

I'd called Owen last night while Bria was in the shower and had told him everything that had happened-the meeting at Northern Aggression, Lincoln Jenkins setting up Bria, the bounty hunters. Once again, Owen had been completely understanding of my situation, the way that he always was. I'd never had much in the way of luck, but I knew that I'd used up every single scrap of good that I had in finding him, a guy who was so at ease with my alternative career and lifestyle.

I just wished that I had the courage to tell him that, to tell him-everything.

But every time I tried to let Owen know exactly how crazy I was about him, something got in the way. Like a bounty being put on Bria's head. My being the Spider and coming home covered in blood. Or simply my own twisted emotions and the fact that while I excelled at killing people, I wasn't so good at letting them get close to me in any way that didn't involve my silverstone knives.

Owen wasn't alone. Finn strolled in behind him, wearing a similar suit and coat, although Finn looked far more at ease and far smarmier in the expensive fabric.

They walked over to the counter and took the two seats closest to the cash register. Owen leaned over, and our lips met. It was a brief, chaste kiss, the casual kind that lovers exchange all the time. But just the faintest touch of his lips on mine filled me with all sorts of wicked, wanton ideas, like telling the waitresses to go home early and letting Sophia mind the restaurant for half an hour or so while Owen and I went into the back and explored the sturdiness of various appliances. Mmm.

Owen must have known what I was thinking because his grin widened, and he gave me a sly, slow wink.

Finn arched an eyebrow. "Do I need to leave you two alone?"

"Maybe," I murmured, surprised at the depth of feeling that Owen stirred in me just by walking into my gin joint. "But since I know that you won't, there's no point in asking."

Finn huffed out his indignation, and I rolled my eyes. Owen just laughed. So did Sophia, who stood behind the counter shredding lettuce for the rest of the day's sandwiches.

"So what are the two of you doing out and about together?" I asked. "Or do I even want to know?"

Finn gave me a smug smile. "Owen's decided to move some of his business interests over to my bank and let me handle them personally."

I looked at Owen. "You know that Finn will do everything in his power to rob you blind, right?"

"Of course," Owen rumbled. "I also happen to know that he'll do everything in his power to do the same to the tax men on my behalf."

Finn pouted, an exaggerated, wounded look on his face, but I just shook my head and chuckled right along with Owen. The two of them ordered, and Sophia and I worked to dish up their food, along with that for the few other people still lingering in the restaurant during this off hour.

Finn requested a burger, piled high with tomato, lettuce, red onion, and thick slabs of Colby-jack cheese, along with steak-cut fries and a triple chocolate milkshake. Owen opted for a barbecue beef sandwich with coleslaw, baked beans, and a side of creamy macaroni salad.

While the two of them ate, I saw to the other customers, fetching food, refilling drinks, bringing over extra napkins. When I was sure that everyone had everything they needed, I nodded my head at Sophia, telling her that she could take off for a while. The dwarf disappeared through the swinging doors that led into the back of the restaurant to join the waitresses who were already in the break room eating their own lunches.

I assumed my usual spot on the stool behind the cash register. Across from me, Owen and Finn continued munching on their food.

"So," I said in a casual voice, leaning my elbows on the counter. "What's the real reason that the two of you came here? Because I know that it just wasn't for the food, no matter how good it is."

They both froze, sandwiches halfway to their mouths, and exchanged a quick, guilty look that confirmed my suspicions. Finn sighed and lowered his half-eaten cheeseburger to his plate.

"Well," he said in a careful tone, not quite looking at me. "There have been some new developments concerning Mab."

"And what would those be, exactly?"

Finn sighed again. "She's actually going to be leaving her estate tonight."

I frowned. "Why the hell would she do that? She should be tucked away in the deepest, darkest part of her mansion and looking for someplace lower to go, given how close I got to her the other night, how close I came to killing her."

Finn shrugged. "Yes, but Ashland society waits for no woman, not even Mab. There's a big shindig tonight, and apparently the party is being held in Mab's honor. Kind of hard to skip out on it, even if everyone knows that you're being hunted by an assassin. And at this point, not showing her face would hurt Mab more than the chance that you could get to her tonight."

I nodded. Mab might have a stranglehold on the crime in the city, but Ashland had plenty of other underworld sharks who were hungry to knock the Fire elemental off her throne-folks like Phillip Kincaid, who owned the Delta Queen riverboat casino. Kincaid and various others had started circling around Mab and her organization ever since I'd helped Roslyn kill Elliot Slater, the Fire elemental's giant enforcer, and they'd only grown bolder since then. Finn had even heard reports about Kincaid cutting into Mab's extortion racket, something that he wouldn't have dared to do if she hadn't been distracted by the Spider.

"Besides," Finn continued, "the event has been on her schedule for weeks now, even since before Christmas when you took out LaFleur."

"Maybe it's been on her schedule," I said, "but don't you think it's rather convenient that she's sticking her head out of the sand right now? At this exact moment? Especially since her bounty hunters have come up with nothing so far?"

Finn shrugged again. "I thought of all that myself, but you said you wanted to know what Mab was up to. I'm just the messenger."

I looked back and forth between him and Owen. "And you told Owen first, didn't you?"

Finn had the good grace to wince. "Sorry, Gin. But neither one of us wants to see you get killed. So Owen and I made an agreement to save you from yourself."

"Is that so?"

My words were colder and harder than the two-inch-thick icicles hanging off the neon sign outside the Pork Pit, but they had no effect on Owen and Finn. Instead, my lover and my foster brother stared right back at me, determination burning in their eyes just as much as it did in mine.

I didn't know whether to be pissed or touched. As much as I wanted to take on Mab by myself, as much as I needed to in order to keep everyone else safe, it was still nice to know that there were folks looking out for me. Just as Fletcher would have done if the old man had still been alive.

So I sighed and nodded, telling Finn and Owen that their concern was appreciated, even if I didn't think it was warranted. They both nodded back, and the tension among the three of us eased.

"So give me the details," I asked Finn. "Where is this party going to be and how do I crash it?"

Finn finished his last bite of sandwich, pushed his plate aside, and wiped his hands on a napkin. "That's the weird thing. It actually looks fairly doable. Mab and a couple hundred of her fawning sycophants are going to be at the ballroom at the Five Oaks Country Club, celebrating the season with a winter costume ball. The party starts at eight. I'm told that Mab will make her appearance around nine. And you'll love this, Gin. Guess what she's going as? What her costume is?"

"I have no idea. Satan's mistress, perhaps?"

Finn stared at me. "The Spider."

I blinked, wondering if I'd heard him right, or if he was just joking around, but his green gaze stayed steady and level with my gray one.