Venom (Page 52)

"Ah, you want to know if you’ve heard of me."

Assassins went by code names, for a variety of reasons. The good ones, anyway. You weren’t much of an assassin if you let yourself get caught after the fact. Something that would happen sooner, rather than later, unless you adopted some sort of anonymous moniker. A code name made things so much easier. Booking jobs, getting paid, keeping the po-po in the dark, living long enough to spend the money afterward.

Fletcher Lane’s code name had been the Tin Man, because he never let his heart or emotions get in the way of a job. The old man had dubbed me the Spider because of the scars I bore on my palms and because I’d reminded him of a spider hiding in the corner when he’d first taken me in off the streets-all long, thin, gangly arms and legs. Over the years, Fletcher had taught me how to be the embodiment of the spider rune that marked me-how to be patience itself. To wait and watch and make my own plans, spin my own webs, instead of reacting to others’ schemes.

Owen shrugged. "What can I say? I’m curious."

"Curious? Most men would be running for the door at this point," I replied. "Blubbering and screaming all the while."

He grinned. "I’m not most men."

No, he wasn’t, a fact that intrigued me more and more, as did the complete lack of judgment in his violet gaze. I could have told Owen that I was a librarian and gotten the same reaction-or lack thereof. Not surprising. He’d seen me after I’d used my Stone magic to collapse Tobias Dawson’s coal mine on top of the dwarf. Owen knew that I’d somehow survived and dug my way out of the rubble. Maybe he hadn’t realized that I was an assassin at that point, but he’d known that I was a survivor. Not much difference, really.

"Besides," Owen continued. "If you’re as good as you say you are, I wouldn’t make it to the door anyway."

"No, you wouldn’t," I replied in a quiet voice.

His grin widened. "You know you’re not helping my ego, Gin."

"Oh," I said in a lighter tone. "I think you’ve got plenty of confidence to spare, Owen."

He kept grinning at me, the expression softening his rough features into something more pleasant-and enticing. I looked at his solid frame, his broad shoulders, the apparent strength in his arms. Too bad Finn was on his way over to pick me up. Otherwise, I might have stepped forward and explored this attraction that sparked between Owen and me. Provided, of course, that Owen wasn’t really quaking with terror on the inside over my gruesome revelations. Somehow, though, I didn’t think his calm facade was an act.

"But to answer your question, yes, I do have a name." I drew in another breath. "One that you’ve probably heard of."

The grin dropped from his face, and he was serious and somber once more. "And what would that be?"

Instead of answering him, I slowly uncurled my hands and held them out face up, so that he could clearly see the spider rune that marked each one of my palms. A small circle, surrounded by eight thin rays. The symbol for patience. Owen knew what the rune was as well as I did.

"The Spider," he said in a quiet voice. "You’re the Spider."

"I was." A grim smile curved my lips. "I actually retired from the business a couple of months ago. But it doesn’t seem to have sunk in yet."

Owen’s eyes narrowed, and he regarded me with another shrewd, knowing look. "Tobias Dawson. You killed him too. That’s why you were at Mab Monroe’s party and asked me to introduce you to him. So you could get him alone and kill him."

I nodded. "That didn’t quite work out the way that I’d planned, but since I’m still breathing and he’s not, I can’t complain too much."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side, as if trying to get a better look at me. As if trying to see past the cold mask of my face and into the blackness that coated my soul. "And did you kill Jake McAllister that night as well? Are you the one who stuffed him into one of Mab’s bathtubs?"

So he’d heard about Jake’s body being found at Mab’s party. Seemed like the Fire elemental hadn’t squashed that pesky rumor nearly as well as she would have liked to. Or maybe she was just putting it out there herself to see who would be stupid enough to take credit for Jake’s death so she could pay him a personal visit. Either way, there was no point in denying anything now.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," I said.

I didn’t tell Owen that Jake McAllister had threatened to rape and murder me. I wasn’t going to make excuses for myself. I’d made that mistake with Donovan Caine. Tried to make the detective see that while I might be something of a monster, there were worse ones out there than me. That occasionally, I took out the big bads to make things better for folks. That Ashland needed someone like me. Someone who could work outside the corrupt legal system. Someone who couldn’t be bought or bribed or intimidated into backing down. Donovan hadn’t been able to understand, much less accept that simple fact. It went against everything the detective had believed in-about the system and himself.

I wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Owen Grayson. Whatever this thing was between us, he was going to know exactly what kind of person I was, what kind of cold, calculated violence I was capable of and had executed so many times throughout the years. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything for him or try to explain away all the bodies that I’d left in my wake.

Owen could draw his own f**king conclusions and act accordingly. And when he told me to get the hell out of his office and never come back, I’d go quietly and without anger or malice. Because before he’d left town, before he’d left me, Detective Donovan Caine had taught me an important, if painful lesson-that anyone who couldn’t accept me for who and what I was wasn’t worth wasting my time on.

So I stood there, and I waited for Owen to tell me to leave.

"I suppose I should thank you for killing Jake McAllister," he said. "After I found out that he’d threatened Eva that night at your restaurant, I wanted to snap the little bastard’s neck myself. I might have too, if not for Jonah McAllister and his connection to Mab Monroe."

Owen uncrossed his arms and flexed the fingers on one hand, then the other, as if he’d still like to get his hands on Jake McAllister, even though the Fire elemental was currently rotting in his grave.

"Don’t thank me," I said. "I didn’t do it for you."

"No," he replied. "You did it for yourself. Because Jake McAllister was going to keep on making problems for you. Just like Tobias Dawson was making problems for Violet Fox and her grandfather, because Warren Fox wouldn’t sell his land and store to Dawson."