“How are you going to do that?” Owen finally asked, still staring off into space. “How are you going to give me answers? You weren’t even there when it happened.”
I squeezed his hand again. “You’ll see. But you’ll have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”
After a moment, he focused on me and slowly nodded.
“Good. Then let’s get out of here.”
“This is a bad idea,” Owen muttered. “A really bad idea.”
Thirty minutes had passed. Before we’d left the Pork Pit, I’d grabbed a few things I thought I might need from the back of the restaurant and stuffed them into my jeans pockets. Now we stood on the boardwalk in front of the Delta Queen. A sign by the gangplank said the casino wouldn’t be opening until tonight, I assumed so every last bit of Antonio could be scrubbed off the main deck.
“Certainly,” I agreed. “But we both have questions that only Kincaid can answer. So let’s pay him a visit.”
Owen hadn’t said much on the drive over here, but I could see him thinking back, straining to recall everything that had happened that night. Everything everyone had said and done, all the shouts, accusations, truths, and lies. I didn’t know what conclusions he’d drawn, but his face had grown darker and darker as the miles passed, until now, his violet eyes almost glowed with rage and guilt—the first over what Salina had done, the second for not realizing what was going on. But those were emotions that Owen would have to deal with himself. All I could do was be here for him—and squeeze Kincaid until he screamed the truth for the whole world to hear.
“You don’t have to go in with me,” I said.
Owen shook his head, and a stubborn look filled his face. “No. I don’t want you going on board alone. And I need to hear what Phillip has to say for himself. I just . . . I need to.”
I nodded, undid the red velvet rope that cordoned off the entrance, and walked up the gangplank with Owen. The main deck had been cleared of all the games, tables, chips, and chairs that had been out here last night. The wood underfoot gleamed like freshly minted gold, and the sharp scent of varnish filled the air. Kincaid certainly hadn’t wasted any time shellacking over what had happened last night.
Someone must have spotted us coming up the gangplank through the windows, because we’d only taken a few steps forward when a giant stepped out of the double doors and came over to us, his hands out to his sides.
“Sorry, folks. We’re closed until tonight.”
I smiled at him. “Not for us. Tell Kincaid that Gin Blanco and Owen Grayson are here to see him.”
The giant frowned, as if the names were familiar but couldn’t quite be placed. So I decided to jog his memory. I palmed one of my silverstone knives, making sure the giant saw the gleam of the metal in my hand. Then I started casually flipping it end over end, just like I’d done in Kincaid’s office last night.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
The giant stared at my knife. After a moment, he backed up and shook his head. “No problem. No problem at all. I’ll tell Mr. Kincaid you’re here.”
“You do that,” I said.
The giant scurried through the double doors and disappeared from sight. He came back less than a minute later and gestured for us to follow him inside. Sometimes it helped to have a reputation as bad as mine.
The giant led us into the main ballroom, where Kincaid sat at a round table in front of the stage, eating a late lunch. The table was covered with fine linens and china, but instead of the lobster and other delicacies I’d expected, Kincaid was chowing down on baby back ribs, grilled sausages, coleslaw, cornbread, and a peach cobbler topped with melting vanilla ice cream. A pitcher of iced tea sat on the table, along with the glass he was drinking out of.
The giant went over and whispered in Kincaid’s ear. The casino boss’s gaze went to me, then Owen, and he put down his fork. He whispered something back to the giant, who nodded and took up a position several feet behind the table. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. The giant should have put himself in between me and his boss, especially with me still twirling a knife in my hand. Good thing I wasn’t here to kill Kincaid. He would have been dead before he got to finish his peach cobbler.
“Ah, visitors,” Kincaid drawled, pushing his plates away and pulling the napkin out of the collar of his shirt. “Tell me, to what do I owe this honor?”
“I think you know why we’re here,” Owen said. “We need to talk.”
“Whatever for?” Kincaid asked. “You’ve spent years going out of your way not to talk to me. So why would you want to have a conversation now? Did Gin tell you what a good time we had getting to know each other last night? Is that why you’re here? Apparently, I just keep ending up with your women, Owen. Why, they practically throw themselves at me . . . whether I want them to or not.”
Kincaid smirked at me. I gave him a lazy look, then kicked his chair over, with him still in it. He’d barely thumped to the floor before I was straddling him, my knife at his throat. Kincaid started to get up, but I pressed the blade against his skin and he froze. They almost always did.
When I was sure he wasn’t going to move, I looked up at the giant who’d taken half a step toward his boss. Too little, too late. If I’d wanted it, Kincaid would have been bleeding out already.
“If you even think about reaching for that gun under your jacket, I’m going to be very upset,” I told the giant. “Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to upset me. It won’t end well for you or your boss.”
“It’s okay, Rusty,” Kincaid said. “Stand down. Gin and I are just having a friendly little chat. What can I say? She’s a feisty minx.”
“Phillip,” I said in a pleasant voice, “your snide comments are getting on my last nerve. So unless you want me to finish the job Salina started, I suggest that you shut the hell up. I don’t like getting blood on my clothes this early in the day, but believe me when I tell you that I’m no stranger to it.”
Kincaid swallowed at my threat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and scraping against the knife in my hand. A mottled, bluish bruise ringed his throat, a reminder of the water noose that had been wrapped around his neck.
“Maybe you should just go ahead and save us all the trouble then,” he said. “I’m sure Owen wouldn’t object. He’d probably thank you for it.”
My lover sighed. “I just want to know the truth, Phillip. I’m giving you a chance to do the right thing.”
“I always did the right thing,” Kincaid snarled back. “You were the one who was too blind to see—”
“Forget that night,” I cut in. “What I really want to know is how you managed to run Salina out of town after the fact.”
Kincaid blinked in surprise before he could stop himself. “What are you talking about? Salina left Ashland all on her own. I had nothing to do with that.”
I shook my head. “No, she didn’t, Philly. Why would she leave? She got Owen to believe you tried to rape her and almost got him to kill you in the process. Things went exactly the way she wanted them to go. But two days later, she just up and vanishes, and no one hears a peep from her for years. Since I know Owen didn’t send her packing, that leaves you—and whoever helped you.”
Owen frowned. “Phillip? Is this true?”
Kincaid didn’t say anything, so I decided to encourage him by pressing the knife a little deeper into his throat. He clenched his jaw, but he still didn’t talk.
“I’m going to get the truth for Owen one way or another,” I said in a deceptively light voice. “You can be helpful, or you can be dead. Doesn’t much matter to me.”