Kincaid punched in another code on the keypad on the wall, opened the door, and stepped inside. I followed him and shut the door behind me. No sense in leaving it open and my back exposed. Besides, Kincaid had said he wanted to talk in private, and so did I—because depending on what he said, the casino boss might not be leaving the room alive.
The office was exactly what I expected it to be—the inner sanctum of an underworld figure with a lot of money, power, and influence. The antique desk in the back of the room was expensive, but functional, while the laptops, monitors, and phones atop it were the best money could buy. Dark blue cushioned chairs crouched in front of a high-end flat-screen TV mounted on one wall, while a wet bar off to one side held every kind of pricey booze you could ever want to drink.
Yes, Kincaid’s office was exactly what I expected—except for the toys.
Apparently, Kincaid was something of a movie buff. Lots of posters of classic and popular films decorated the walls, everything from Casablanca to Casino Royale. A couple of glass curio cabinets held action figures, both plastic ones and more costly stone molds of superheroes and other fantasy characters. Stacks of DVDs filled a bookcase, while popcorn and cotton-candy machines stood guard on either side of it.
Underworld figure. Casino boss. Geek.
Kincaid walked over to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey, which he threw back. I moved so that I was standing at the other end of the bar, close to him but still able to see the door at the same time.
“Care for a drink?” he asked, pouring himself another shot. “Because I plan on having several.”
“Need a little liquid courage after Antonio?”
Kincaid shrugged. “Don’t you?”
This time, I shrugged. He downed another shot, then grabbed a bottle of gin, along with some ice and a lime. His movements were quick and efficient, and a minute later, he plunked a gin and tonic down on the bar.
“Gin for Gin, right?” Kincaid said. “My sources tell me it’s your drink of choice and that you even introduce yourself to people by comparing yourself to it. What is it you say? Gin, like the liquor. A bit cliché, don’t you think?”
“Mmm.” I made a noncommittal sound. “And what else do your sources say about me?”
He started working on his own gin and tonic. “Lots of things. Everyone in Ashland knows you as Gin Blanco, owner of the Pork Pit barbecue restaurant, but your real name is Genevieve Snow. Quite a tragic backstory you have. Mab Monroe murdered your mother, Eira, and your older sister, Annabella, when you were thirteen. Apparently, Mab and your mother had been enemies for years, which is one of the reasons why she decided to kill your whole family. Or tried to, anyway, since you somehow miraculously survived. Reports are sketchy as to exactly how you managed that, much less got your younger sister, Bria, away from Mab before she burned your family’s mansion to the ground.”
He didn’t have all the details exactly right, but the broad strokes were correct. Looked like Kincaid had the same sort of sources Finn did. Worrisome, to say the least. I had enough people coming after me without Kincaid throwing his hat into the ring.
He finished mixing his drink, but instead of slugging it down like he had the others, he cradled it in his hands and stared at me. “Of course, we both know you’re more than just a simple restaurant owner. Everyone in the underworld knows—or at least strongly suspects—that you’re really the assassin the Spider, the woman who killed the mighty Mab. Why, you’re a legend now. Everyone’s still whispering about how you killed Mab with . . . what was it, exactly? Ice magic? Or did you use your Stone power as well?”
I palmed one of my silverstone knives and started flipping it end over end in my hand. “Actually, I shoved my knife into the bitch’s black heart. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life.”
He watched me turn the knife over and over again. “I bet it was.”
After a moment, he drew in a breath and continued with his dossier. “Everyone knows about your supposed . . . skills, but what’s really interesting, at least to me, is that you’ve been seen out and about on the town with Owen Grayson these last few months. I wouldn’t think an assassin like you would indulge in such a relationship—any relationship, really. But the two of you seem quite taken with each other.”
Kincaid’s voice was smooth, but his tone darkened when he said Owen’s name, as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. A small tell, but a tell nonetheless in this verbal game we were playing.
“That’s it?” I asked when he didn’t say anything else. “That’s all you know? You’re not going to stand there and tell me what my favorite color is or how I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid?”
Kincaid gave me a thin smile, but he didn’t respond to my taunts.
“Well, I have to hand it to you, Philly. It looks like you know everything there is to know about me. But you’re not the only one who’s been doing his homework.”
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“Phillip Kincaid, owner of the Delta Queen riverboat casino and one of the richest and most powerful men in Ashland. To most folks, you’re a self-made man, a guy with nothing who came from out of nowhere and built a massive fortune. In addition to the Delta Queen, you also have riverboats in several other cities, including Memphis and New Orleans, and there are rumors you’re starting a new project down in Blue Marsh.”
Kincaid grinned. “I suppose I have you to thank for that last one, don’t I, Gin? Now that Randall Dekes is no longer an issue down there. It seems the Spider never takes a vacation. At least not without killing someone.”
I ignored his words. “But there’s a lot more to you than just your portfolio and the official rags-to-riches story on your corporate website, isn’t there, Philly?”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that you’re an orphan. Supposedly, your father was a dwarf and your mother was a giant, which means you’re probably quite strong, at least stronger than a regular human would be. You certainly have the solid physique and thick muscles for it. But who your parents were doesn’t much matter since you never knew either one of them, does it? You got anonymously dropped off at a church when you were about two years old. From then on, you bounced around from foster home to foster home, going from one bad situation to the next. Tell me, did those cigarette burns on your arms ever heal up?”
Kincaid blinked in surprise. Apparently, he hadn’t thought I’d be able to find all the skeletons in his closet as easily as he had the ones in mine, but I had, thanks to Finn. Sometimes I thought my foster brother must be part bloodhound, the way he could track down leads and run them to ground with only a whiff of information to go on.
“You got those burns when you were thirteen, right?” I said. “And a whole lot of other injuries. Cuts, bruises, a few broken bones. At that foster home where the man of the house drank like a fish and liked to smack around his wife and the kids in his care when he’d had a few too many. Funny thing about that guy. Shortly after child services noted the burns on your arms, a robber broke into the house and almost beat that man to death with a metal pipe. That’s what the wife claimed in the police report, anyway. But you know what I think, Philly? That thirteen wasn’t an important year for just me.”
His blue eyes glittered with a cold light, but he didn’t respond.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I think the bastard got exactly what he deserved. Actually, I’d say he got off easy. I would have stabbed him to death.”
Kincaid snorted, but he didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“Maybe you were scared the cops would put you in juvie for what you did to that guy, maybe you were scared of him beating on you again when he got out of the hospital, or maybe you just decided you’d rather fend for yourself. Either way, there’s no record of you in any foster home after that. In fact, you dropped off the map entirely for a few years there, which leads me to believe you were living on the Southtown streets and scro
unging for whatever food, clothes, and money you could find, cheat, beg, borrow, or steal. Eventually, you joined some of the lower-level crews in Ashland, working your way up through the ranks until you decided to branch out on your own. Somewhere along the way, you dreamed up the idea for the Delta Queen and made it a reality. Even more impressive is the fact that you’ve managed to hang on to it all these years despite Mab and other folks trying to wrestle it away from you. So bravo to you.”
I stopped twirling my knife long enough to walk over and pick up the gin and tonic from the bar. I toasted him with the drink, then used the glass to gesture at all the action figures and movie posters. “Now, seeing your office, I assume you growing up as poor and shitty as you did is the reason for all of this. The posters, the movies, the popcorn machine. That you’re indulging yourself now with all the things you didn’t have as a kid. I also assume that’s the reason you gulped down your food at the Pork Pit the other day like you were afraid I was going to take it away from you. Because you have had your food taken away in the past. Because you’ve gone to sleep hungry more times than you’d care to remember.”
Kincaid looked around the office as if he was seeing all the things inside it for the very first time—and, more important, what they revealed about him. His mouth twisted with disgust, but I couldn’t tell if it was with himself for being so easy to read or with me for dredging up so many bad memories. Then his gaze dropped to the drink still in his hand, and he tossed it back as easily as he had the whiskey before. He put the empty glass down on the bar.
“Well, it seems like you’ve got me all figured out, Gin. Want to tell me what my favorite color is? Although, for the record, I wanted a kitten, not a puppy, when I was a kid.”
“Not quite,” I said. “As interesting as our life stories are, they don’t explain what happened to Antonio tonight. So why don’t we save the reminiscing and one-upmanship for some other time, and get down to business, with me asking the questions and you giving me the answers just as quick as you can.”
“And if I don’t want to answer your questions?”
I put my gin down on the bar and bared my teeth at him in a predatory smile. “Then I hope you enjoyed that drink, because it’s the last fucking one you’ll ever have.”
Kincaid eyed the knife I’d started flipping over and over in my hand again. “You’d kill me just for not answering your questions?”
I shook my head. “No. Like you said, everyone in the underworld knows who I am, or at least who they think I am. I expected you to come after me sooner or later, just like everyone else has. Targeting me is one thing, but you put my friends, my family, in danger tonight—Eva, Violet, and Sophia. And that is what is unacceptable to me. That’s what I’d kill you for and not think twice about it.”
For a moment, I almost thought I saw a glint of respect in his eyes, but he kept his face as cold, remote, and impassive as mine was.
“First question?” he finally asked.
“Who’s the water elemental who killed Antonio?”
Kincaid eyed the empty glass on the bar like he wished it was still full. “What makes you think I know who it is?”
“Because your second-in-command was murdered right in front of you, and you didn’t bat an eye. Water elementals aren’t uncommon, but the way this one used her magic was especially creative and vicious. But you just looked at Antonio, or what was left of him, and you weren’t surprised in the least. So that makes me think you know exactly who this elemental is and what she’s capable of. Not to mention the fact that you asked me to go after her. Not the elemental, not whoever had done this, but her.”
Kincaid kept his gaze on the glass, so I decided to push him even more.
“And then there’s Eva, who said that she wasn’t leaving you behind again. Which, naturally, implies that she did leave you behind at some point before. Add that to everything else, and it seems that you know a hell of a lot more about what’s going on than I do. I don’t like to be kept in the dark, Philly—or worse: used. Believe me when I tell you that a person only ever does that once to me.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek, but that was his only reaction. I thought Kincaid wouldn’t answer me or that perhaps he was thinking of some lie or some way he could spin what had happened to Antonio. But after a few seconds, he shrugged again and gave me the answer I’d been expecting all along, although he did add a caveat that took me by surprise.
“Her name is Salina Dubois,” he said, lifting his head and looking at me. “And I want you to kill the bitch for me.”
9
So my suspicions were correct, and Salina Dubois was a water elemental—one who could use her magic to kill as easily as I could with my own Ice and Stone power.
I’d thought as much, given the distinctive feel of the water elemental’s magic—magic that had felt exactly like the power that Salina had subtly given off when I’d shaken her hand at Underwood’s. At the restaurant, I’d thought that perhaps Salina was a weak Ice elemental or gifted in some subset, like water. Now, I knew exactly what kind of magic she had—and that she wasn’t weak at all.
But Kincaid’s confirmation raised even more questions. Did Owen know about Salina’s magic? Did he know what she could do with it? Could my lover be in danger from her? And how did Eva and Kincaid fit into all of this? What tied them all together?
Kincaid watched me closely, waiting to see what effect his bombshell and subsequent request would have on me, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked. “I want you to kill her for me. I want you, the Spider, to kill Salina Dubois.”
I laughed. “And what? You think I’m going to do it just because you ask me to? Oh, Philly. You should know better than that.”
“Of course not,” he said in a smooth voice. “I know what a . . . professional you are. You deserve to be richly compensated for your skills and expertise. Believe me when I tell you that money is no object. Name your price, and I’ll double it. Triple it, if necessary.”
I shook my head. “There’s not enough money in the world to get me to work for you.”
“Ah, but money’s not the only thing I can offer you. I think we’d both agree there are things that are far more precious than money, especially to people like us.”
“And what would these precious things be?”
Kincaid grinned. “A little peace and quiet.”
“What do you mean?”
His grin widened. “Consider this a tit-for-tat deal. You kill Salina, and I take care of all the folks who want to take out the Spider. That’s a win-win for everyone, I’d say.”
I looked at the casino boss. “Let me get this straight. In return for my killing Salina, you’ll agree to what—call off every other lowlife in Ashland? I don’t think you have that much pull, Philly.”
“I have quite a bit more than you think, Gin,” he said. “At the very least, I can give you some breathing room. It’s been two months since Mab’s funeral. How many people have you had to kill since then? A dozen? Two?”
I hadn’t been keeping count. It wasn’t like I was getting paid to kill people anymore—I had to do it simply to survive. But the constant barrage of blood and bodies had been enough to make me tired—so tired. That was the reason I’d gone down to Blue Marsh a few weeks ago, just so I could get away from everyone in Ashland who wanted me dead. But of course my vacation had ended up being just as dangerous. Still, I had to give Kincaid credit. His offer was tempting—far more tempting than he knew. It looked like the casino boss was shrewder, smarter, and more devious than I’d realized.
“Go on.”
“Go on?” he asked. “And say what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Like maybe why Salina wants to kill you. I’m the one asking the questions, remember? Now, I’m assuming that you were her ultimate target, since it’s your fancy riverboat we’re on. I’m also guessing that offing Antonio the way she did was just fun for her, and that’s
why she didn’t kill you to start with. Or maybe she killed him first to sucker you into going over to his body so she could use what was left of him to wrap that water noose around your neck. Personally, I like to be more straightforward about these things, but Salina seems a little ostentatious when it comes to her magic. Either way, she had no qualms about dropping two bodies here tonight.”
He snorted. “You have no idea what Salina’s idea of fun is.”
“So enlighten me.”
“All right,” Kincaid said. “Since you’ve made it so clear what will happen if I don’t answer your questions.”
I just smiled and kept twirling my knife in my hand.
He drew in a breath. “Salina and I have been enemies for years. No real reason, just a mutual distaste for each other. It’s not as dramatic as your victory over Mab, but I count the day Salina left town as one of the happiest of my life. But over the past few months, I’ve been hearing some rather disturbing rumors that she’d finally decided to come back to Ashland, rumors I was able to confirm a few days ago.”
“And do you know why she’s come back? Why now, after all these years? Why did she even leave town in the first place if this was her home?”
“Apparently, Salina’s determined to start up her father’s business again,” he said.
“Who’s her father?”
“Benedict Dubois.”
I frowned. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”
Kincaid hesitated. “Benedict Dubois ran most of the gambling operations and bookies in Ashland for years. At least, until Mab decided those operations should belong to her. Benedict thought he could take her on and win, but I’m sure you can imagine how that turned out for him.”
“Not well.”
He nodded. “Salina . . . left town after his . . . death.”
I looked at him. “But with Mab gone, you now run all the gambling operations in town. So you’re telling me that Salina wants you dead because you’re standing in the way of her re-creating her daddy’s empire?”
Widow's Web (Elemental Assassin) Page 7
