Jennifer Estep: By a Thread

I’d never thought I’d hear the light, quick tread of his footsteps again. I’d never thought I’d hear that low, sexy, slightly raspy voice again. I’d never thought I’d see him again, not after everything that had happened, not after the bitter way that things had ended between us.

Not after he’d walked away from me without so much as a backward glance.

For a moment, I sat there, still frozen, wondering if I was just imagining things, if my mind was playing tricks on me—cruel, cruel tricks.

“Callie?” he asked again, drawing closer. “Why aren’t there any customers? Where’s the rest of the staff? And who are these women?”

I breathed in, and his familiar scent filled my nose—that sharp, clean scent that always made me think of soap. And I knew that I wasn’t wrong or mistaken or just imagining things.

I drew in a breath and slowly swiveled around on my stool.

Detective Donovan Caine stood behind me.

The last time I’d seen Donovan Caine had been when he’d dumped me at the Pork Pit, ending our brief but intense affair. That had been several months ago, but he still looked the same as I remembered—the same as I’d pictured him in my mind more than once on a late, lonely night, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Whom he might be with.

His black hair was cropped close, looking as dark as midnight above his smoky, topaz-colored eyes. He had a strong chin and smooth bronze skin that hinted at his Hispanic heritage. Donovan topped out at just over six feet, and the blue suit he wore showed just how lean and muscled his body was. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and his white button-down shirt was open at the throat. His hair was also standing straight up, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Still, despite his rumpled appearance, he looked . . . calmer, happier, and more at peace than I’d ever seen him.

Donovan stared at Callie, making sure that she was all right, before turning his attention to Bria, then me. He started to look back at Callie but did a double take instead, his golden gaze locking with my gray one.

In that moment, I remembered how he’d felt pressed up against me, how he’d whispered my name over and over again, how he’d made me feel—and then how he’d walked away without giving me a chance. Without giving us a chance. My heart constricted in my chest, squeezing in on itself, but I couldn’t tell whether it was with longing or anger.

His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and all the color drained out of his face. “Gin? Gin Blanco?”

I tried to smile, but I couldn’t quite make my lips turn up. “The one and the same. Hello, Donovan. You’re looking well.”

Donovan blinked several times, as if I were a ghost and he could somehow banish my image just by staring right through me. When that didn’t work, his gaze went to Pete and Trent, who were still out cold on the floor.

“Your work, I assume?” he said, leaning over and checking each man’s neck for a pulse.

“Of course.”

“I’m surprised they’re not dead,” he muttered, and straightened back up.

I suppose I could have told him that I hadn’t come here looking for trouble. That I was trying to relax this weekend, not carve up bad guys for kicks. That they’d started it, not me, and that they were damn lucky I hadn’t finished it—permanently. But the fact that one of the first things out of his mouth was an insult after all this time made my hackles rise.

I grinned, baring my teeth at him. “What can I say? I’ve mellowed since the last time we spoke, Detective.”

Donovan looked at me, I looked at him, and Callie and Bria stared at both of us, wondering what the hell was going on. Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Finally, Bria cleared her throat, stepped forward, and held out her hand. “I’m Detective Bria Coolidge.”

“Detective Donovan Caine,” he murmured, shaking her hand.

Bria nodded, like the name actually meant something to her. “I took your job in the Ashland Police Department, and you took mine in Savannah. We never met in person, but we spoke on the phone a few times, working out the details of the switch.”

“Of course,” Donovan said, recognition filling his face. “I remember you now. I did work in Savannah for a while before transferring out here to Blue Marsh.”

This time, I was the one who blinked in surprise. When Donovan had left Ashland, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted to disappear and never see me again. So I’d tried not to think too much about where he’d gone, and I hadn’t tried to find him, although Finn had volunteered to hunt him down and kneecap him for hurting me. Turns out, the detective had been closer than I realized this whole time. He’d taken Bria’s place down here to get away from me, his troublesome assassin lover, and she’d assumed his job up in Ashland to try to find me, her long-lost sister. Ah, the irony. Kicking me in the teeth just as usual.

“You’re a detective, and you’re here with Gin?” Donovan asked, a suspicious note creeping into his voice.

Bria’s face tightened. She realized what he was really asking just like I did—if Bria knew I was the Spider.

Her eyes frosted over, and she put on her hard, flat cop face. “Of course. Gin’s my sister. We were just telling Callie about Gin’s . . .”

“Security business,” I finished in a helpful tone.

Bria gave me a look that said it would be a very good idea for me to shut the hell up right now. “Yes, her security business , when you arrived, Detective.”

Donovan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, something he’d done more than once when I was around. Even now, after all these months, the dark, caustic sound still felt like a knife twisting in my stomach.

“Donovan?” Callie asked, laying her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

He turned to her. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day, and I was so worried when I got the call about the fight here. Are you all right? Did anyone hurt you?”

“I’m fine, really. Gin made sure that those men didn’t harm me or anyone else.”

Donovan didn’t look at me. “I’m glad.”

Callie wrapped her arms around Donovan. The two of them shared a soft, gentle kiss; then he pulled her into a tight embrace, sliding his arms across her back and burying his face in her neck. The diamond ring on Callie’s finger winked at me like a cold, mocking eye, and I finally put two and two together. Took me long enough.

Callie had mentioned that her fiancé was a cop and had asked the bartender to call him. I’d just never expected it to be my cop. Or my ex-cop. Or whatever the hell Donovan Caine was to me now.

Callie was Donovan’s fiancée. The thought rattled around inside my head, echoing over and over again. Of course she was. If I’d thought the irony of the situation had merely been kicking me before, it was now laying a full-body smackdown on me, concentrating on my bruised ego and battered pride—and maybe my wounded heart too.

I felt as though a giant had just sucker punched me, but I kept my face cold, smooth, remote, and impassive. Hiding my true feelings was one of the first things Fletcher had taught me when he’d started training me to be an assassin—even if I wasn’t quite sure what those feelings were right now. Anger, longing, regret, attraction. They were all a big jumbled mess inside me, tiny barbed threads that pulled my emotions first one way, then the other, until everything was twisted, tangled, and snarled beyond all comprehension.