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Owen grabbed my hand, his thumb tracing over the spider rune scar on my palm. I enjoyed the sensation for a moment, before squeezing his hand and slipping mine free.
I didn't look back as I slid into Finn's car, but I could feel Owen's eyes on me as I got inside and buckled up. Finn hopped into the driver's seat, cranked the engine, and roared down the driveway away from the gray stone house.
"Well, I see someone ended the evening on a high note," Finn said as he drove through the iron gate that ringed Owen's property.
"Not really. You rang the bell before I could get mine done," I sniped.
"Sarcasm does not become you, Gin," he replied. "So I take it Owen took the news well? What exactly did you tell him?"
"Just about everything. "
Finn looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why would you go and do something like that?"
I shrugged. "Seemed like the thing to do. He knew I was involved with Tobias Dawson's death, and he had his suspicions about me killing Jake McAllister at Mab Monroe's party. He would have put it all together anyway when Slater's body turns up cold and rotting somewhere in the next few days. "
"Do you think he'll talk?" Finn asked in a low voice.
I thought about Owen's confession that he'd wanted to kill Jake McAllister himself. About the other men that he had hurt and killed to protect Eva and himself. About what he thought he owed me for giving him food that night all those years ago. About the hard, passionate way he'd kissed me even after I'd told him exactly who and what I was.
"No," I replied. "Owen has his own reasons for keeping his mouth shut. "
I told Finn what Owen had said about living on the streets and how Fletcher Lane had gotten him his first job as a blacksmith.
"Dad helped Owen and Eva?" Finn asked. "I never knew about that. "
"Me neither," I muttered. "It would have been nice for Fletcher to mention his altruistic streak before he died. "
Memories of Fletcher Lane flooded my mind. The knowing look in the old man's green eyes. The way he so thoughtfully and carefully studied everyone and everything around him. My heart ached, the way it always did when I thought of all the things I wanted to say to him, all the things I wanted to ask him-and would never get to.
Finn and I didn't speak for a few minutes, but I could tell he was still thinking about Owen and the possible risk the businessman represented to us.
"Don't worry about Owen, Finn," I finally said. "Besides our past history, he wants to fuck me now, remember? Spilling news of my secret identity is only going to get him a knife to the chest. He knows that. And I seriously doubt he wants Eva to finish growing up without big brother around to keep her safe and in line. "
"And what happens if you're wrong?" Finn asked.
My stomach tightened, and I stared out into the darkness. "Then I'll fuck him once, and when we're done, I'll stab him where he lies. "
"That's hard core, Gin," Finn replied. "Very hard core. Kind of kinky too. "
A grim smile tightened my lips. "That's me. Gin Blanco. Hard core and kinky to the bitter end. "
Chapter Twenty-One
Finn and I arrived at Jo-Jo's about twenty minutes later.
Jo-Jo Deveraux lived in one of the less pretentious parts of Northtown, as befitting someone of her Air elemental power, wealth, and social connections. Finn made the turn into a subdivision named Tara Heights, then coasted down Magnolia Lane and pulled into a long, sloping driveway. Jo-Jo's three-story plantation house perched on top of a large hill, giving a clear, sweeping view of the other houses located on the street.
It was after midnight now and normally, at this hour, only one or two lights would be on inside the dwarf's house. Jo-Jo might be an Air elemental, but she needed her beauty sleep just like the rest of us. But not tonight. The whole first floor of the antebellum structure glowed, indicating that everyone inside was still wide awake. I doubted any of us would get much rest tonight.
Finn parked his car in the driveway, and I scanned the shadows around the house and its long, wraparound porch. Elliot Slater shouldn't have been able to track Roslyn Phillips to Jo-Jo's, but the giant had gotten away from me twice now, and I wanted to be prepared for anything. But nothing moved or stirred in the darkness, not even a lone bullfrog bellowing despite the December cold.
Finn headed for the front door, but I stood where I was and took a moment to listen to the murmurs of the white cobblestones that paved the driveway. Searching for even the slightest hint of trouble, the smallest note of worry or alarm. But the stones only whispered of the wind and frost and cold. Slater and his goons hadn't found Roslyn-yet.
We stepped up onto the porch, and Finn banged the cloud-shaped knocker against the front door. Heavy footsteps sounded, and Sophia Deveraux opened the door. The Goth dwarf wore a pair of black sweatpants, topped with a sweatshirt that had bloody, broken hearts all over it. For once, Sophia wasn't wearing one of her leather collars, and her black hair was mussed, like she'd been asleep at some point during the evening. She carried a long length of metal pipe, perfect for dealing with any unwanted visitors who might darken the doorstep this late at night.
I eyed the sturdy weapon. "Nice to see you too, Sophia. "
"Hmph. " Her usual noncommittal grunt.
