Free By a Thread by Jennifer Estep Page A

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 rumpledappearance, 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.
    â€œYour work, I assume?” he said, leaning over and checking each man’s neck for a pulse.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI’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 theywere 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.”
    â€œDetective 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.”
    â€œOf 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.
    â€œYou’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,