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that hung over the entrance to the Pork Pit. Not a rune, Bria. My baby sister.
not really, but I’d drawn it in honor of Fletcher Lane. The For seventeen years, I’d thought Bria had died that Pork Pit had been my home for the past seventeen years, night, along with our mother and older sister. Thought since the murder of my mother and older sister. It and that she’d been crushed to death by the falling stones of Fletcher were one and the same to me.
our burning house. That I’d caused her death by using my I held my lemonade up in a silent toast to the runes, to Stone magic to collapse the house in order to try to escape the family I’d lost long ago, and to Fletcher, whose death my torturers and save her.
was still a raw, aching wound in my chest. But Fletcher Lane had sent me a final gift from beBut the drawings on the mantel weren’t the only runes yond the grave—Bria’s photo. Proof that she was still alive to be found in the house. I had a rune as well. Two of somewhere out there in the world. The picture was the them, actually—embedded in my flesh.
only nice thing in the folder. The rest of it dealt with my I put down my lemonade, uncurled my palms, and family’s murder. Police reports, autopsy photos, and all looked at the silverstone scars that decorated my skin. A the speculation that had followed the brutal, unexpected small circle surrounded by eight thin rays, one on either murder of the Snow family.
hand. My rune, representing a spider, the symbol for pa“Why did you do it, Fletcher?” I murmured. “Why tience. The rune had once been a medallion, an innocent leave me the information about my family? About their charm strung on a silverstone chain—until the Fire elmurder? Why the picture of Bria? Where is she? How emental who’d murdered my family had tortured me by did you find her? When were you going to tell me about duct-taping the rune in between my hands and making her?”
me hold on to the metal while she superheated it. The Silence.
silverstone had eventually melted into my hands, forever Fletcher had gone where I couldn’t question him, and marking me with the rune. Forever branding me as the he was never coming back. All I had left was this folder of Spider in more ways than one.
gruesome information and a single picture of Bria—neiAnd I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t forget the past. ther of which had helped me locate my baby sister. I leaned forward, picked up a thick folder from the cofBut Bria’s photo hadn’t been the only surprise in the fee table, and plucked a picture out of the file. A woman folder. There had also been a slip of paper with a name on stared up at me. A beautiful creature, with blond hair, it. Mab Monroe, written and underlined twice in Fletchcornflower blue eyes, and rosy skin. But her eyes were er’s tight, controlled handwriting. That was all that had cold and hard, her mouth a tight slash in her face that debeen on the paper. I still didn’t know why Fletcher had tracted from her delicate features. A rune hung off a chain written her name down and slipped it inside with the rest around her neck. A primrose. The symbol for beauty. of the information. Was Mab Monroe the Fire elemental Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 44-45
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who’d killed my mother and older sister? If so, why? Why know if I wanted to dig up the past again—or how Bria had she done it?
would react when she saw me and learned what I’d been Mab Monroe might be powerful, but she’d also made doing all these years.
a lot of enemies over the years. Back when I’d still been But nothing was going to be resolved tonight. Not working as the assassin the Spider, Fletcher had gotten tonight, maybe not ever. Fretting over it wouldn’t help several requests a year from folks wanting her to be elimime unravel the mysteries Fletcher Lane had left behind. nated. We’d both agreed it was an impossible job, that Sighing, I went over and ran my fingers over each one of Mab had too many people around her, that she was just the four drawings, pushing Fletcher’s crooked frame back too strong in her magic to be taken down quietly by a sinup into its proper position. Then I turned and headed gle person. But that hadn’t stopped Fletcher from compilinto the bathroom to wash off the day’s grease, grime, ing all the information he could on the Fire elemental, and blood.
her minions, and her organization. It had always seemed to me like Fletcher Lane had some secret interest in wanting Mab Monroe dead. A desire I’d never been able to figure out—unless it had something to do with me and my family’s murder.
It was all a great big circle of speculation. I just didn’t know the answers to anything, and I’d been driving myself crazy trying to figure them out. Frustrated and disgusted once again, I threw the folder and Bria’s picture down on the coffee table and got to my feet. My sudden movements rattled the framed drawings on the mantel. Fletcher’s drawing—the one of the pig sign over the Pork Pit—slid down. I stared at it a moment. Then I sighed. The old man had compiled the information about my family’s murder for a reason. He just hadn’t told me what it was before he’d been murdered. It wasn’t his fault I wasn’t smart enough to figure it out—or find Bria. Something I wasn’t quite sure I even wanted to do. It had taken me years to put my family’s murder behind me. I didn’t Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 46-47
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been a working assassin, and I certainly didn’t want to broadcast my whereabouts now that I was retired. Not that anyone had any reason to suspect that Gin Blanco, 4
restaurant owner and part-time college student, was actually the renowned assassin the Spider. But still I worried. Paranoia was good. It had kept me alive this long. No reason to abandon it now.
“Come on, Gin. It’s not that bad,” a deep, male voice cut into my brooding. “At least he made you out to be the hero instead of the villain. How often does that happen?”
I glared at Finnegan Lane, who sat on a stool across from me drinking a cup of chicory coffee. Finnegan looked every bit like the smooth-talking, money-swindling investment banker he was. A fitted gray suit draped
“I’m going to kill this person,” I said in a cold voice. over his solid frame, along with a matching wool coat. His
“Slowly. Painfully. Really make it hurt. Really make him starched, tailored sage shirt brightened his eyes, which feel it.”
were the slick green of a soda pop bottle. His walnutI slapped the morning edition of the Ashland Trum- colored hair curled over the collar of his coat. His thick pet down onto the empty space beside the cash register. locks had a sexy, stylish, rumpled look that had taken There it was, on top of the B section. A story detailing the Finn at least ten minutes, two mirrors, and several squirts attempted robbery at the Pork Pit last night, along with of product to obtain.
a file shot of the outside of the restaurant. The headline In addition to being my money man, Finnegan Lane read “owner, cook thwart restaurant robbery” and ran was also the son of my mentor, Fletcher. Finn was like a all the way across the damn page in fifty-four-point type. brother to me and one of the few people I trusted since I drew in a breath, but the grease and spices that flathe old man’s murder. Finn was also my handler now, for vored the air from the morning’s cooking didn’t soothe lack of a better word. He didn’t like my decision to reme the way they usually did. I stared at the newspaper tire, as it robbed him of his lucrative fifteen percent hanagain, wondering how I’d been so sloppy as to get the dling fee, but he understood why I’d done it. That I was Pork Pit plastered across the front of it. honoring Fletcher’s wishes. Besides, Finn had plenty of Publicity was one thing I didn’t need. The very last other less-than-legal schemes to keep him busy—when thing I needed. I hadn’t advertised my services when I’d he wasn’t out fucking anything in a miniskirt or attending Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 48-49
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some high-society function and rubbing elbows with his cue
fix on, and the phone ringing off the hook with takeclients who were even more devious, crooked, and danout orders. Instead, a lone woman huddled in a booth in gerous than he was.
the back of the restaurant, out of sight of the storefront
“Besides,” Finn continued in a matter-of-fact voice. windows. A young girl who looked all of eighteen, nine“You can’t kill the reporter. Nobody wants him dead, teen, tops.
ergo, there’s no one to pay your rather substantial fee. Nobody else sat at the long counter or in the booths. Remember what Dad said—never work for nothing.”
Not a single person stood outside staring in through the Finn took another sip of his coffee. I drew in a breath, windows, and no one had called for takeout. Not even letting the rich caffeine fumes fill my lungs. Fletcher my Tuesday regulars. Hell, nobody besides the girl had had drunk the same chicory coffee when he’d been alive, come in all morning, not even the mailman. He’d just and the familiar roasted smell comforted me better than slid the day’s bills through the mail slot and scurried on a warm hug. Finn was right. I couldn’t kill the reporter to the next stop on his route as though this were a house for doing his job. No matter how much trouble he’d just of lepers.
caused me with his story.
“And you wonder why you don’t have any customers,”
“All right, so I won’t kill him,” I said. “How about Finn murmured. “Jonah McAllister’s put the word out you ruin his credit instead? Call in his mortgage or somethat you are persona non grata. And I’m sure the story in thing?”
the newspaper didn’t help matters, either. Nobody wants
“Mortgages,” Finn scoffed. “Dime a dozen in this city, to eat someplace where they might not have cleaned up penny ante, and not worth the trouble.”
the blood yet.”
He drained the rest of his coffee and stared at me.
“What does McAllister think he’s going to do?” I
“What about the kid, the would-be robber? Did you asked. “He can’t keep people away forever. The food’s too know he was Jonah McAllister’s son when you broke his good. Even if he could, I still wouldn’t starve.”
wrist and threatened to slit him from groin to gills?”
“Thanks to my years of wise monetary advice and stel“It wasn’t a threat so much as a promise.” I shrugged. lar investing skills,” Finn not so humbly stated.
“And no. Didn’t matter to me who his daddy was then, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, thanks to your skills. If Jonah and it doesn’t matter to me now.”
McAllister thinks a couple of days of lousy business are Finn swiveled around on his stool and looked at the going to intimidate me into dropping the charges against rest of the restaurant. Just before noon on a Tuesday. Dehis loser kid, then he needs to think some more.”
spite the gray clouds and cold, rainy weather outside, I
“Jonah McAllister doesn’t know who he’s dealing should have had at least twenty customers by now, with with,” Finn replied. “If he knew you were the assassin more coming in every minute, all eager to get their barbethe Spider, he’d probably just borrow a couple of Mab Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 50-51
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Monroe’s giants to try to kill you before you could testify her usual Goth outfit—black jeans, a black T-shirt, and against his son.”
black boots. Today, dainty silverstone hearts hung from
“Former assassin,” I corrected. “And let Jonah McAlher black leather collar. They clanged and clashed like lister send some of Mab’s goons after me. We both know cymbals as she walked.
exactly how that would turn out.”
“Sophia? Pretty please?” Finn smiled and held out his Finn snorted. “Yeah, with their blood on the floor of empty cup.
the restaurant.”
The Goth dwarf grunted, but the corners of her I grinned. “C’mon. You have to admit I do good work.”
lips, crimson today, twitched upward into a tiny smile.
“Deadly work, perhaps. You know how I feel about the Finnegan Lane could charm any woman he set his mind word good.” He shuddered.
to, and he enjoyed practicing his skills on every female Like me, Finnegan Lane was firmly entrenched in within a twenty-foot radius. Young, old, pretty, tooththe shady side of life, with morals that bent easier than less. Didn’t much matter to Finn. He enjoyed playing the wet grass. Banking regulations, married women, public part of the old-fashioned, charming, Southern gentleman indecency laws. Finn fucked around with whatever and to whatever audience was handy. Even the gruff, tough whomever he could without getting caught. Even when Sophia Deveraux wasn’t immune to his ladykiller smile. he did, he always found a way to wriggle out of whatThen again, he’d had thirty-two years to wear her down. ever messy love triangle he currently found himself in. Finn batted his green eyes at Sophia while he sipped Finn was more slippery than grease on a hot skillet. He his fresh cup of coffee. Sophia gave him another minuspreferred to tackle problems in a roundabout way, which cule smile, then moved over to the double sink, where usually involved pulling his pants up while he ran away she was draining a colander of elbow macaroni to make from whatever gun-toting husband was hot on his trail. some salad. Normally, during the lunch hour rush, there Me? I went at my problems straight on—and knife wouldn’t be room to move or turn around back here. point first. Another reason Fletcher Lane had trained me Waitresses would be stacked three deep behind the counto be the assassin, and not his son, even though Finn was ter, waiting on Sophia and me to cook up their latest two years older than me.
order. But it was just the two of us today. I’d sent the rest Finn held up his empty cup and let out a low whistle of the staff home with pay, after it had become apparent I between his teeth. A moment later, Sophia came through wouldn’t need them to man the Pork Pit.
the double doors that led to the back of the restaurant.
“What about owen Grayson?” Finn asked between The dwarf clenched a battered silver coffeepot in her sips of steaming coffee. “How are you going to cash in stubby fingers. The one she always kept warm for Finn. that favor?”
Fletcher too, before he’d died. once again, Sophia wore Grayson’s visit hadn’t made the newspaper article, but Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 52-53
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I’d mentioned it to Finn last night when I’d called to tell golden opportunity I have? Asked him to help me make him about the attempted robbery at the Pork Pit. He’d the charges stick?”
been more excited about owen Grayson owing me a Finn snorted. “Then you’d be wasting your favor, and favar than the fact Sophia and I had foiled the would-be you know it. Even if you got owen Grayson to back you robbers.
up, Jake McAllister still would never see the inside of a
“I’m not,” I said. “ I would have done the exact same jail cell. Because Jonah works for Mab Monroe. Even thing to Jake McAllister and his friend if a couple of somebody like Grayson would think twice about crossing homeless guys had been eating here instead of Eva GrayMab, especially since he has his sister to think about. I son. Saving her from getting dead doesn’t change anyimagine owen would like to be around to help her finish thing for me.”
growing up and not die a fiery, torture-filled death at the Finn shook his head. “Gin, Gin, Gin. You really need hands of Mab or one of her giant flunkies.”
to learn to take advantage of these golden opportunities
“I know. But it’s still a nice thought. The idea of Jake when they present themselves to you.”
McAllister being somebody’s prison yard bitch gives me
“And what golden opportunity would that be?”
the warm fuzzies.”
He gave me a calculating look. “I’ve had dealings with Finn snorted. “You are deeply disturbed.”
owen Grayson before. He’s deeply devoted to his
sister. I grinned. “And that’s why you love me.”
Their parents died young, and he raised her himself. A Finn snorted again, then batted his eyes at Sophia to real family guy that way. I imagine you could ask him for get another refill on his chicory coffee. After the dwarf the moon right now, and he’d find a way to deliver it.”
obliged him, Finn stuck his nose in the financial sec“Good thing I don’t want the moon then.”
tion of the Ashland Trumpet. I leaned my elbows on the
“But—” Finn started.
counter, stared at the newspaper photo of the Pork Pit,
“Forget it,” I said. “I’m not asking owen Grayson for and brooded about my unwanted publicity. Maybe the anything. All I want to do is cook Fletcher’s barbecue reporter could have a small accident. Something painful, sauce, run the restaurant, keep my head down, and make but not immediately lethal—
sure Jake McAllister gets what’s coming to him.”
A shadow fell over me, blocking my light. “Ahem.” A
“Even with your testimony, the girls’ testimony, it’ll small, polite sound.
never go to trial,” Finn pointed out. “Jonah McAllister I looked up. My lone customer of the day, the girl, will make sure his boy won’t spend a day in jail, no matter stood in front of me. My eyes immediately flicked to the what he has to do to accomplish that feat.”
dishes on her table, the way they always did. I liked know“And what if I called in that favor owen Grayson ing my customers enjoyed their meals, and there was no owes me?” I asked. “You know, take advantage of this better proof of that than an empty plate.
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But food still covered the girl’s dishes. She’d barely Then I went back to the newspaper.
touched her grilled cheese sandwich, steak-cut fries, and But the girl didn’t move. She just stood there in front triple chocolate milkshake. A shame, really. Because with of the register, like she wanted something else but didn’t Sophia’s sourdough bread, I made the best grilled cheese know how to ask for it. I decided to let her squirm for in Ashland. And the milkshake? Heaven for your taste ignoring my grilled cheese sandwich. Ten . . . twenty . . . buds.
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