Jennifer Estep - Deadly Sting

Bria ordered a burger topped with spicy chili and sharp cheddar cheese, onion rings, potato salad, and a vanilla bean milkshake to go with her slice of peach pie. I moved back and forth behind the counter, grilling the burger and dropping the batter-dipped Vidalia onions into the french fryer to crisp up. Sophia stopped slicing buns long enough to put the ice cream, milk, and a splash of vanilla syrup into the blender to make the shake.

A few minutes later, I set Bria’s plates in front of her, and she dug into her meal. As she ate, she caught me up on the latest developments regarding McAllister.

“I still can’t believe they let him out on bail,” Bria said. “Even if it was three million dollars. At least the judge agreed to make him wear a tracking anklet so there’s less chance of him skipping town before his trial. It’s been set for later this year.”

She dragged half of an onion ring through the ketchup on her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Although I have to wonder if he’ll actually live long enough to make it to trial.”

Despite the plethora of crimes in Ashland, the court system actually moved along at a fairly quick pace. Normally, there were never that many cases on the docket, since most folks who committed said crimes were usually found toes-up before their trial dates. Revenge was a bitch, especially in Ashland. Justice wasn’t blind here so much as it was swift—and permanent.

“Even if he does go on trial,” she continued, “there’s always the chance that he could walk. It’s not like judges and juries haven’t been bribed before in this city, and McAllister knows how to work the system better than anyone.”

“Well, if McAllister pulls that particular rabbit out of his hat, I may have to revisit my original plan for him.”

Bria took a drink of her milkshake and looked at me. “You really think all the news stories about McAllister and the museum heist will bring Mab’s relative to Ashland?”

I shrugged. “It can’t hurt. The will was made public, what, two days ago? If I were in line to inherit all those millions, I’d be making a beeline to town lickety-split.”

Worry tightened her pretty face. She fiddled with the primrose rune around her throat a moment before dropping her hand and twisting around the two rings that she wore, the ones with snowflakes and ivy vines carved into them. “Who do you think this person is? Do you think he or she is anything like Mab?”

I knew what she was really asking—if Mab’s relative was going to be as big a threat to us as the Fire elemental herself had been.

I’d gone over it a thousand times in my mind, but the truth was that I had no way of knowing. Maybe this person would take Mab’s money and go back to wherever he or she had come from. Maybe he or she would stick around in Ashland and live the high life. Or maybe the heir would be just as cruel and power-hungry as Mab had been. But the carrot had been dangled out there. Now all that was left to do was to see who snatched it off the stick.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But no matter what happens, we’ll be ready for M. M. Monroe, and we’ll face him or her down—together.”

She nodded. “That we will.”

Bria finished up her food. One of the other diners needed a refill on his water, so I left my sister at the counter while I moved through the restaurant and made sure that everyone had everything they needed. I had put the pitcher of water down and was sliding back onto my stool when the bell over the front door chimed. I looked past Bria, wondering who my latest customer might be.

To my surprise, Owen strolled into the Pork Pit.

Owen must have left work for the day, because he wore a light gray suit and a pair of polished black wing tips, although he’d already taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top of his white shirt.

My eyes traced over him from head to toe, drinking in the sight of him. We hadn’t talked since that night at Briartop. I’d thought about calling Owen a dozen times, but I didn’t know what to say to him, especially since his friend was dead because of me. Even if it had been a cruel twist of fate. I’d hoped that he might call, but he hadn’t, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him—until now.

Bria noticed me staring over her shoulder and turned to see who I was looking at. After a moment, she swiveled back around to me. “I take it that you and Owen are still up in the air?”

I grimaced. “Something like that.”

“You should go talk to him.”

I watched as Owen walked over to one of the booths in front of the storefront windows and took a seat. Since the waitresses were still on break in the back, Sophia grabbed a menu, walked around the counter, crossed the restaurant, and handed it to Owen. He took it and gave her a smile before his gaze drifted over to me. After a moment, Owen lifted his hand and waved at me. I returned the gesture before turning my attention back to Bria.

“Even if I don’t know what to say?”

“Even if,” she replied. “The two of you are good together, Gin. All I’m saying is don’t give up on him just yet. He may still surprise you.”

“It’s hard, though,” I said in a soft voice. “So hard. He broke my heart.”

It was something I hadn’t admitted to anyone. I’d barely acknowledged it myself. But Owen keeping his distance from me after I’d killed Salina, well, it had hurt. I hadn’t expected him to be happy about what I’d done, but I hadn’t expected him to go completely radio-silent either. Oh, I knew why he’d done it, and I probably would have done the same if our positions had been reversed. But it had still broken my heart and brought all of my old fears and worries roaring back to the surface. Fears that Owen wouldn’t be able to accept me any longer for who I was and what I’d done to the woman he’d loved—even if I’d had reasons for my brutal actions.

“Go on,” Bria said. “You’re not going to solve anything just standing there staring at him.”

“Since when are you playing the part of the big sister?”

“Since now.” She grinned. “Now, get.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, giving her a small salute with my hand.

Then I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and went to see what he wanted.

I followed the faded, peeling, blue and pink pig tracks on the floor all the way over to Owen, who sat in a booth in the back close to the restrooms.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.” He smiled. “Can you sit for a minute? I’d like to talk—if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

I slid into the opposite side of the booth from him. Sophia raised her eyebrows and gave me a questioning glance, but I waved, telling her to finish what she was doing. Owen wasn’t here to eat. Instead, he stared at me, and I looked back at him. Perhaps it was my imagination, but his violet gaze seemed clearer than I remembered—calmer too. As if he’d finally made peace with some of his demons. I wondered if any of them were Salina—or maybe even me.

“I went to Jillian’s funeral yesterday,” he finally said.

I nodded. I hadn’t gone to the service, although I’d sent flowers and made a hefty donation to Jillian’s favorite charity. I also had Finn working on a way to quietly slip Jillian’s family enough money so they wouldn’t have to worry about anything for the rest of their lives. But I hadn’t thought it was right for me to show up at her funeral when I was the reason she’d been killed to start with. I knew the money wouldn’t make up for anything either, but it was all I could do to help those she’d left behind.