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Afterward we lay there in bed, a loose tangle of arms and legs. I felt more sated and loved-physically and otherwise-than I had in a long time. For once, all the soft things that I was feeling, all the tender emotions in my heart, didn't scare me. Not now. Not with Owen. And I had a feeling they never would again.
And most importantly, I could tell he felt the same. It was in the way he kissed me, the way he looked at me, the way he held me, even now, his fingers sliding through my hair, my head on his chest, both of us curled together, each one enjoying the other's warmth and the simple, quiet pleasure of just lying here.
"So I've been thinking about your idea for Christmas," I murmured, lightly running my nails across his broad, muscled chest. "About having a holiday party here. "
Owen raised an eyebrow. "And?"
I drew in a breath. "And I think it's a good one. I've already asked Bria to come. "
Owen didn't say anything for a moment. "Are you going to tell her then? That you're really her sister?"
I nodded. "I think so. Things are getting too complicated with LaFleur and Mab. I can protect Bria better if she knows the truth. I just hope she can accept who and what I am-and what I plan on doing to Mab. "
Owen's arms tightened around me, and he gathered me close once more. "If Bria Coolidge is half the woman you are, then I think she'll understand everything you've been through. You said yourself that she came back to Ashland to find you, to investigate the murder of your mother and older sister. "
That was the conclusion I'd drawn the night I'd broken into Bria's house to keep Elliot Slater and his giants from killing her. Finn had snooped around after the fact and had found something interesting in Bria's office-a dry-erase board that contained every known detail about the murder of our mother, Eira, and older sister, Annabella. It looked as if Bria had come back to Ashland for the sole purpose of trying to bring Mab to justice for what the Fire elemental had done to our family.
But that hadn't been the only thing on the murder board. Bria had also had a picture of one of the spider rune scars on my palms taped up there, courtesy of Fletcher. After he'd died, from beyond the grave, the old man had arranged to have a photo of Bria delivered to me so I would realize she was still alive-and he'd sent her one of the scar on my palm in return so she would know the same. I supposed Fletcher had wanted us to find each other-one way or another.
I hoped that Owen was right about Bria accepting me and my dark, murky past, but I couldn't get rid of the tight ball of unease that twisted my stomach. Finding out that your long-lost sister was also a notorious assassin who was going around town killing bad guys wasn't exactly the stuff dreams were made of. So I decided to focus on other matters, starting with the man beside me.
I trailed my hand down Owen's chest, drawing a series of loose circles, before going lower and taking him in my hand.
"Round two?" I suggested, sliding my nails up and down his thick length.
Owen grinned and pulled me even tighter. "I think I'm up for that. "
I responded by lowering my lips to his once more.
Chapter 23
I spent the night with Owen. But this time, I didn't get up and sneak out of bed early the next morning. Instead, I woke him up for round three before I had to leave to go to the Pork Pit. After that, it was business as usual at the restaurant.
At least, as much as it could be when I was expecting an assassin to drop by sometime during the day and try to kill me.
Given the fact that Elektra LaFleur had almost succeeded in doing that very thing two nights ago, I took a few extra precautions. More than the ones that were part of my daily routine, anyway. I might long to kill the other assassin, but I wasn't going to be stupid about things either. Fletcher had taught me better than that.
For starters, I had on one of my many silverstone vests, hidden underneath my blue work apron and a bulky black sweater that obscured the lean shape of my body. And I had Owen's oh-so-thoughtful Christmas presents secreted on me as well. A knife tucked up either sleeve, one in the small of my back, and two more stuffed inside my boots.
Early that morning, befo
re the Pork Pit had opened, I'd walked around the interior of the restaurant twice, slowly, looking at it from every angle, thinking what I would do if I wanted to kill the owner of such an establishment. The best way to get in, the easiest way to get close, the weapons I might use. All the things that assassins had to think about if they wanted to get away after the fact. All the things I'd thought about as the Spider for so many years that were just second nature to me now.
Despite Mab's edict to make it look somewhat like an accident, given what I knew of LaFleur, I doubted the other assassin would care exactly how she killed me, as long as she got to use her electrical magic. Hell, I doubted she'd even be that quiet about things. I imagined LaFleur would be perfectly happy to barge in through the front door of the Pork Pit, fry me with her green lightning, and stroll right back out when I was dead and charred. I couldn't fault her for that. Sometimes the direct approach was the best.
I only hoped she'd wait until the restaurant was deserted before she made her move. Collateral damage was one thing I'd always avoided as an assassin. Call me a sentimental fool, but I didn't want some innocent family's Christmas to be ruined because Mommy happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When I'd thought about things and how they might play out, I flipped the sign on the front door of the Pit over to Open.
Now all that was left to do was wait for LaFleur to show.
And then we'd dance.
The day passed quietly. Well, as quietly as usual, considering the fact that Sophia Deveraux and I were still busy cooking all day long, trying to keep up with all the take-out and holiday party orders that just kept pouring in, despite the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Normally, I helped wait tables as well as dished up food, but today all I did was cook. Catalina Vasquez and the rest of the waitstaff took over the slack.
Finn dropped by about five that afternoon. As always, he wore one of his designer suits. A Christmas green one with a red candy cane-striped tie that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. As soon as he sat down at his regular seat at the counter, Sophia poured him a cup of chicory coffee. The Goth dwarf gave Finn a fond smile and patted his hand. Finn grinned and winked back at her. Even gruff, tough Sophia wasn't immune to the legendary charms of Finnegan Lane.
By that time, the take-out orders had started to slow down, and Sophia and I had put together all the party trays for the day. The various members of the waitstaff who'd come into work today were all in the back of the restaurant taking their break, so I decided to take one too and talk to Finn about the latest goings-on in Ashland.
