Jennifer Estep - By a Thread

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” the detective said in a harsh voice. “You never are.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“It means that Randall Dekes is still alive and well.”

I shrugged. “So? If I remember correctly, you didn’t want me to kill the vamp in the first place.”

“I didn’t then, but things have changed.”

My eyes narrowed at his cold, angry, frustrated tone. “What happened?”

Donovan sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “The bastard came to my house and took Callie.”

Donovan pointed his finger at me, anger making his eyes glimmer like gold coins in his face. “Dekes took Callie, and it’s your fault. He wasn’t scared off by you at all. Instead, your little talk with him only made him that much more determined to get her restaurant no matter what, and the sooner the better.”

Yeah, I’d fucked up and underestimated Dekes, but the detective’s self-righteous tone still grated on my nerves. Donovan had no idea what I’d been through in the last few hours—and the horrors that were in store for Callie if we didn’t get to her in time.

“Actually, Dekes and I didn’t do much talking,” I snapped. “Since he already knew who I was and that I was coming for him.”

My sharp words penetrated some of Donovan’s anger, making him frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Dekes used my neck like it was his own personal blood bank last night,” I said. “Jonah McAllister tipped him off that I was an assassin, that I was the Spider, so Dekes and his men were waiting for me. I barely got out of his mansion alive.”

I didn’t tell Donovan all the gory details about Dekes’s frenzied attack on me. There was no point in it. The detective would secretly think I’d gotten exactly what I’d deserved, and it would only make him worry that much more about Callie. As convoluted as my feelings were for Donovan, Callie didn’t deserve what was going to happen to her at Dekes’s hands, and I wasn’t going to paint the detective a picture just to get back at him for all the hurt he’d caused me. I might be a coldhearted bitch, but I tried to keep my pettiness in check. Most of the time, anyway.

“You know, Donovan, you look exceptionally well for a man whose fiancée was kidnapped,” Owen drawled, walking over to stand by my side.

Sophia slipped into the room behind Owen, and Jo-Jo came in from the kitchen. The two dwarven sisters sat down on one of the couches while Finn and Bria moved to stand behind them, guns down by their sides.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Donovan snapped.

“It means that you don’t have a mark on you, Detective,” Owen said in a soft voice. “Not a single scratch. Some of us fight back to protect the people that we love. But somehow, you never seem to.”

The detective’s face tightened until his lips were just a thin white slash against his bronze skin. Owen wasn’t just talking about Callie, and we all knew it—especially Donovan.

“I wasn’t there when it happened,” Donovan ground out the words through clenched teeth. “I got called out on a case this morning. Vandalism and broken windows at an empty vacation home on the other side of the island. Now I know it was obviously a ruse to lure me away. When I came back, the front door was kicked in, the house was a mess, and Callie was gone. She wasn’t in the house, she wasn’t at the restaurant, and she wasn’t answering her cell. One of the neighbors finally told me that she’d seen a couple of giants drag Callie out of the house kicking and screaming and shove her into the back of a black town car—and that Dekes got inside after her.”

The detective’s hands curled into fists, and he glared at Owen, daring him to say another word. Owen’s violet eyes narrowed in response, and his lips quirked up into a hard smile, a clear indication that he was ready to rumble. I stepped in between the two men and held up my hands.

“Oh, cut the macho bullshit,” I said. “Fighting among ourselves won’t do a damn thing to help Callie, and we all know it. Rescuing her is what’s really important, especially after what happened last night.”

Donovan glared at Owen for several more tense seconds before turning his gaze to me. “And what was that? What did Dekes do to you?”

I shrugged. “The usual. Crowing about what a badass he was. Threats of torture. Some other assorted violence before I made good my escape.”

My words were light, but Donovan must have realized there was more that I wasn’t telling him. For a moment, I almost thought I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes, but his face hardened once more, smothering the soft emotion.

“Gin’s right,” Bria said. “Dekes has Callie. We should be focusing on how we’re going to get her back, not wasting time pointing fingers at each other.”

“ We’re not going to do anything,” Donovan growled at her. “Callie’s my fiancée. I’ll get her back on my own terms. I don’t need your help, and I especially don’t want Gin’s so-called help. You’re a detective, Coolidge. You should man up and act like a real cop instead of just pretending to care about the law whenever it suits you.”

Bria stiffened, and anger blazed in her blue eyes—more anger than I’d ever seen her show before, except maybe when she’d first realized that I was the Spider. Her hand tightened around the gun that she was still holding, and I got the distinct impression that my baby sister would love nothing more at that moment than to raise up the weapon, pull the trigger, and put a few bullets into Donovan’s chest. Instead, she shoved her gun at Finn.

“Hold this,” she growled.

Bria stalked around the couch and walked up until she was standing nose to chest with Donovan. The detective glared down at her, still spoiling for a fight.

“Callie might be your fiancée , but she’s my friend ,” Bria spat out the words. “She’s my best friend, and I love her like a sister. Now she’s in the hands of a very bad man, and instead of asking us for our help to get her back, you’re bitching at me about the fucking law . What the hell is wrong with you?”

For the first time since he’d stormed into the beach house, uncertainty filled Donovan’s features, and some of the anger in his eyes dimmed.

“You’re a cop,” he said. “You should understand where I’m coming from.”

Bria drew in a breath, trying to get her temper under control. “I do understand, and most of the time, I’d agree with you. But Randall Dekes doesn’t play by the rules, and he couldn’t care less about the law. So I say we forget the rules and do whatever we have to in order to rescue Callie before Dekes kills her.”

Donovan shook his head. “You know, you might pretend to be a cop, but deep down, you’re no better than Gin is, always thinking that murdering someone is the only way to solve a problem.”

“No,” Bria snarled. “My sister’s better than I am because she doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what she is, and she always does exactly what she says she will. She’s better than you are too, even if you’re too much of a dumbass to realize it.”

Surprised, I looked at my sister. Most of the time, Bria said the same things to me that Donovan had just spouted to her. That I was knife-happy and preferred to kill people rather than actually find another, less violent way to deal with them. Part of me knew that was true, that I did prefer to assassinate first and ask questions later. That’s how Fletcher had trained me, and that’s what had helped me survive so many bad situations over the years. But this was the first time I’d ever heard my sister defend me and my tactics, and I didn’t quite know what to make of it.