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I arched an eyebrow. "And if it comes to pass that she doesn't want you?"
He grinned. "Oh, she'll want me. I'm even more irresistible to women than your friend Finn is. "
I had to laugh at his confidence, if nothing else. My chuckles were just fading away when the bell over the front door chimed and a guy s
tepped inside the restaurant. He was a dwarf wearing a plaid shirt that was too tight for his muscled upper body, jeans, and a pair of dusty cowboy boots. He started flexing his hands as soon as he stepped inside, and his gaze cut right, then left, like he was looking for someone specific to give a beat-down to.
I sighed. I knew the type - some low-level hood who wanted to move way, way up in the underworld food chain by taking out the Spider.
The dwarf looked in my direction, and his eyes narrowed, indicating that he'd found his target - me. I put down my book, straightened up, and gave him a cold smile. Kincaid noticed my evil grin, and he swiveled around to see who I was glaring at with murder in my eyes.
The dwarf took a step forward, like he was going to charge me right here in the storefront, but he froze when he saw Kincaid. The dwarf's eyes widened, and he started chewing on his lip - thinking hard. Kincaid arched his eyebrows in a silent command, then made a shooing motion with his hand.
The dwarf didn't have to be told twice. He turned around and practically ran out of the Pork Pit as fast as his cowboy boots would carry him. Kincaid turned back around to me.
"Funny thing," I said. "Since that night at Salina's, no one has come into the restaurant and tried to kill me. Until right now. "
"That is funny . . . since we both know how infinitely lovable you are. "
"Why, Philly," I drawled. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say that was a joke. "
Kincaid grinned at me. "What can I say, Gin? You bring out the worst in me. "
I thought of Owen, and my chest tightened. "Yeah, I tend to do that to people. "
He looked at me, but he didn't get up to leave. Instead, he stared at me, an amused smile on his face. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already. "
"Forgotten what?" I asked, having no idea what he was talking about.
"We had a deal, remember? You kill Salina, and I get the folks gunning for you to back off. As many as I can, anyway. You held up your end, and I intend to do the same with mine. "
I frowned. "That dwarf? He was one of yours?"
"Of course not. I would never be so crass as to send a hit man after you. Let's just say I've let it be known that I've developed something of a grudging fondness for you. He saw me, and he thought better of things. That's all. "
I might have mocked him about it on the riverboat, but Kincaid was one of the few people in Ashland who actually had that kind of clout. If he wanted to throw a little goodwill my way, fine by me. Still, I couldn't help but point out the obvious.
"Technically, we never had a deal because I never agreed to kill Salina for you. "
He grinned. "I know, but she's dead all the same. And I couldn't be happier about that. "
I snorted. "Despite how happy you are, it won't last, and you know it. I'm too tempting a target for folks to ignore me for very long. "
"I know," he replied. "But I figured you could use a break, after everything that's happened the past few days. "
I couldn't argue with that.
I worked at the restaurant the rest of the day, then went home. Normally, I didn't mind being alone, but tonight, Fletcher's house felt especially empty, despite all the odd knickknacks stuffed inside. Or maybe that was just because my heart felt like a hollow shell now that Owen and I were . . . well . . . I didn't know what we were right now, but we weren't together.
And it fucking hurt.
I didn't have an appetite, so I poured myself a glass of gin and took it and the rest of the bottle into the den in the back of the house. I downed the drink, relishing the sweet burn of the liquor as it slid down my throat. I reached for the bottle to pour myself another round, but I stopped. Getting stinking drunk wouldn't ease the ache in my heart, and it sure as hell wouldn't make me feel better in the morning. So I pushed it aside and leaned back against the couch.
My eyes lifted to the mantel and the four framed drawings there. My mother, Eira's, snowflake, representing icy calm. Annabella's ivy vine for elegance. Bria's beautiful primrose. The one of the neon sign outside the Pork Pit that was my homage to Fletcher. My gaze lingered on each one of the runes, and a strange mood seized me.
It had been a while since I'd taken any art classes at the community college, but I still had some supplies on hand. I rummaged through one of the drawers in a table in the den and found a sketchpad and some pencils I'd stuffed in there when I'd moved back into Fletcher's house last year.
I put the pad on my lap, grabbed a pencil, and started drawing. Thirty minutes later, I had a fifth rune - Owen's hammer. The symbol for strength, perseverance, and hard work. All things he had, all things he excelled at. My fingers traced over the symbol, and I wished that I could show it to Owen, wished he was here with me now.
