Dobson shook his head. “I wouldn’t take a piss in here with someone else’s dick. Make sure you make a note of that, Ms. Wright.”
The only dick here was him. I had to grind my teeth together to keep from kicking him in the back of his knee, pushing him forward through a stall door, and drowning him in one of the toilets.
The giant moved from the restrooms to the cooking area, which ran along the back wall. Sophia stood in front of the ovens. She hadn’t moved a muscle since Dobson entered the restaurant, and her arms were still crossed over her chest, so that all you could see were the words Kiss off on her T-shirt. Yeah, that about summed up my mood right now.
Dobson did a double take at the Goth dwarf, but he was wise enough to skirt around her, instead of ordering her to get out of the way or using his enormous body to shove past her. He wouldn’t have been able to move her, not even with his giant strength, not when she was glowering at him like that. But what the good captain did do was purposefully shove his elbow into a full pitcher of sweet iced tea, making it tip over and spilling the sticky concoction all over the floor.
“Whoops,” Dobson said with obvious, malicious glee. “But, hey, isn’t a wet floor an unsafe working condition? And treacherous for customers? What do you think, Ms. Wright?”
The health inspector sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was ashamed to be part of this obvious charade and witch hunt, but she dutifully checked off something on her clipboard.
After deliberately spilling a pitcher of lemonade, Dobson stormed into the back of the restaurant, where he found fault with everything from the temperature of the walk-in freezers (too warm), to the ketchup bottles lining some metal shelves (too cluttered), to the unopened boxes of flour and cornmeal in one of the cabinets (too full of invisible roaches). And he did the bull-in-a-china-shop routine the whole time, knocking over, spilling, and breaking everything he could shove his giant elbows, hips, and knees into.
The health inspector followed him, ducking out of the way of the flying bits of shattered dishes and fat puddles of spilled beverages as best she could, all the while adding more and more supposed infractions to the list on her clipboard. Silvio, Sophia, and I were right behind her, with the rest of the cops bringing up the rear, making sure I didn’t attack their boss for supposedly doing his job.
Still, Dobson’s tirade was more annoying than anything else, until he went over to the far side of the restaurant.
“Hey,” he called out. “What’s in these?”
He pointed to the freezers that lined the walls, including the one in the very back—where my skillet-wielding attacker’s body was currently resting in peas.
I finally realized why Dobson had dragged the health inspector along with him. After Madeline had sent her maid in here to attack me, and she hadn’t come back out again, the acid elemental would have known that I’d killed her maid and that her body was around here somewhere. So she’d sent Dobson in to find it.
If the health inspector opened that freezer, then Dobson would get to do exactly what he’d come here for in the first place. Arrest me for murder, cart me off to jail, and kill me on the way there—just like Madeline wanted.
But there was no way I could stop him from opening the freezer. Any sort of protest on my part would only make him that much more eager to see what was inside it. I was well and truly stuck in Madeline’s black widow’s web, and there was nothing I could do but start figuring out how many of the cops I could keep busy while I yelled at Silvio and Sophia to run to safety.
Still, I shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, hoping against hope that I could bluff my way out of this. “Nothing special. Just some ice, frozen food, things like that.”
“Well, let’s open them up,” Dobson crowed. “I want to see it for myself. It’s probably all rotten, like everything else in here.”
I kept my face blank as he went over to the first freezer. Dobson gave me a knowing smirk, lifted the lid, peered inside, and found . . . several bags of ice, just like I’d said.
The giant didn’t make any derogatory comments this time, but he gave me an angry glare. He let the heavy lid drop and slam shut with an audible whomp and moved on to the next freezer, almost as if he was looking for something specific.
Like, say, a body.
The one that he knew was here somewhere.
Dobson headed over to the second freezer, and I leaned over and put my lips close to Silvio’s ear. “Are you really a lawyer?” I whispered.
“Of course I am,” he whispered back. “Who do you think bailed out all of Beau’s drug dealers when they got swept up by the cops? It was easier and more efficient for me to get my license and take care of things like that myself rather than wait for some lawyer to show up. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m going to need one,” I muttered.
Sophia heard the last part of our conversation. She gave me a thoughtful look. She knew what was in that last freezer as well as I did.
Dobson snorted in disgust and let the second freezer lid fall and whomp back into place, since it was full of innocent things like frozen packets of corn, bags of cranberries, and tubs of summer strawberries that Jo-Jo had added sugar to and frozen to eat during the winter months. His gaze locked onto the final freezer, and an excited grin split his face. He knew he was about to hit the jackpot, and he hurried in that direction—
At the last second, just before Dobson could grab the freezer handle, Sophia sidled forward, stuck out her boot, and tripped him. The giant stumbled forward, his skull cracking against the side of the freezer, before his legs slid out from under him, and he did a header onto the floor.
Dobson let out a low groan, and I had to press my lips together to hold back my snickers. Sophia winked at me, her black eyes sparkling with merriment and revenge.
A couple of officers rushed over, trying to help their boss, but Dobson shoved them away and got to his feet. A large purple bruise had already started to form around the jagged cut over his right eye, but the growing goose egg on his face didn’t keep him from glaring at Sophia.
“You did that on purpose,” Dobson muttered.
Sophia grinned, although the look was more feral than pleasant. “Whoops,” she rasped.
That angry red flush exploded in Dobson’s cheeks again. It matched the blood dribbling down the side of his face.
“Arrest her!” he screamed. “For assaulting an officer of the law!”
One of the uniformed cops stepped forward. “I’m sure it was just an accident, sir,” he said in a timid tone. “It is a little cramped, what with all of us standing around back here—”
“Cuff that bitch!” Dobson roared. “Now!”
The officers didn’t like it, but they didn’t have a choice. They cautiously approached Sophia, who held her hands out in front of her, as meek as a kitten, and let the cops cuff her, even though she could have snapped their necks like breadsticks if she wanted to. But Sophia wasn’t above raising her cuffed hands to her lips and blowing the captain an exaggerated kiss.
“Get her out of here!” Dobson roared again.
Silvio looked at me, and I jerked my head, telling him to go with Sophia. The officers led her into the front of the restaurant, with Silvio trailing along behind them.
Dobson stopped the phony inspection long enough to grab some napkins off a metal rack and use them to wipe the blood off his face.
“Now,” he growled, crushing the dirty napkins in his hand and tossing them aside. “Let’s see what’s in that freezer—”
But Ms. Wright had already beaten him to it, lifting the freezer lid and taking a quick peek inside. “Nothing interesting. Just some frozen peas.” She let the lid slam shut and made a note on her clipboard.
“Are you sure?” Dobson asked, giving me a suspicious look.
“I can actually see to do my job, Captain,” Ms. Wright snarked, the first bit of bite that she’d dished out the entire time she’d been here.
He looked a
t the freezer again, as if he wanted to shove past her, grab the lid, and open it up himself, but in the end he gave her a curt nod. After all, she was the one supposedly conducting the inspection.
I stared at Wright. She didn’t so much as glance at me, but her hand trembled as she scribbled another note on her clipboard. I didn’t know if she really hadn’t seen the maid’s body underneath all the frozen food and bags of ice or if she just wanted to piss off Dobson by not letting him look inside. Either way, I wasn’t about to question my small bit of good luck.
With the so-called inspection complete, Dobson whipped around and shoved back through the double doors, with the uniformed officers following him. Wright headed in that direction as well, although she stopped a few feet away from me and dropped her head, as though studying the ketchup bottles that Dobson had strewn all over the floor.
“Tell Bria thanks again for helping me out with my ex-husband,” she said in a whisper-soft voice. “He’s never getting out, and he’ll never hit me again, because of her.”
So it wasn’t luck that had saved me—it was Bria’s kindness to this woman. I wondered what kind of nightmare my sister had saved her from. It must have been bad, for Wright to return the favor here and now and risk Dobson’s wrath.
She hurried after the cops. I waited several seconds, then followed her into the storefront.
By this point, Catalina had cashed out all of the customers except for two—Madeline and Emery, who were still seated in their booth, calmly eating the rest of their food. Of course they were. They knew that nothing was wrong with it and that the only things dirty and rotten in here were the two of them, along with their flunky Dobson.
If it had just been the three of us in the restaurant, I would have palmed one of my knives and attacked them, consequences be damned. But I knew that’s exactly what Madeline wanted—for me to lose control, fly into a rage, and assault her and Emery in front of the cops.
So I focused on remaining calm and pressed my fingertips against the scars in my palms, letting the feel of the runes center me. I was the Spider, and Fletcher had taught me to be patient above all else.
“So what’s the verdict?” Dobson asked Ms. Wright, as if he didn’t already know what he’d bullied or bribed her into saying.
The health inspector sighed, tore the top piece of paper off her clipboard, and passed it over to him. Dobson made a pretense of reading the paper, even though everyone knew that he was the one in charge here—not Wright.
“Well, I’m afraid that our tips were right,” he said in a smug voice that told everyone that he wasn’t sorry at all. “I’m sad to say that your restaurant has totally failed inspection on all counts, Ms. Blanco.”
“So how much will the fine be?” I asked.
I expected him to quote some ridiculous figure upward of a hundred thousand dollars, most of which would no doubt end up in his own pocket. But instead, he gave me a cruel, calculating smile that made that cold unease surge through my body again.
“Oh, there’s no fine,” Dobson crowed. “I’m afraid the violations are far too severe for that.”
I knew what he was going to say next, but that still didn’t lessen the impact of his booming voice and harsh words.
“The Pork Pit is closed.”
7
His words hit me like a shot to the heart—hard, brutal, and utterly ruthless.
It was one thing to accuse me of murder in front of my customers. Really, it wasn’t anything at all, given all the folks I’d helped move on from this life to the next over the years. It wasn’t an accusation so much as it was a fact. Many, many times over.
But shutting down the Pork Pit, closing my gin joint, that was like carving out a piece of my soul—one that I didn’t know how to live without.
And Madeline knew it, given the smirk on her face as she sipped her sweet iced tea.
But I kept my own face blank and my mouth shut as the health inspector handed over several notices to the cops, which Dobson took great delight in ordering his men to post all over the windows. They were just thin sheets of yellow paper, but somehow the notices seemed to shut out the afternoon sun completely and cast the interior of the restaurant in dark, murky shadows. A uniformed officer taped one of the notices up on the window across from the cash register, blocking the warm rays of sunlight that had been touching my face. I felt like someone had doused me with a bucket of ice water.
No, not someone—Madeline Magda fucking Monroe.
When the notices were all taped up, Dobson swaggered back over to the cash register, which I was standing behind.
“Aw, don’t look so glum, Ms. Blanco. You can always try to fix your violations and have another inspection.” He smirked.
He didn’t tell me that I wouldn’t pass, no matter how much I scrubbed and cleaned or how many bribes I doled out. His meaning was obvious.
So I pushed my sick heartache aside and smirked back at him. “I don’t know what Madeline is paying you, but I can tell you this. It’s not going to be enough.”
Dobson’s brown eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, Blanco?”
“Oh, sugar,” I drawled. “I don’t make threats. Just promises.”
For the first time since he’d swaggered into the restaurant, the giant looked a bit rattled, so rattled that he did finally glance over at Emery, as if seeking her reassurance that she wouldn’t let me kill him for his arrogant stupidity. She nodded, which made Dobson relax. Fool. He was going to pay for this, the same as Emery and Madeline were.
Dobson reached into his jacket pocket, drew out a business card, and threw it at me. I snapped my fingers forward and snatched the card out of midair, making him blink in surprise.
“Call me when you’re ready to talk about the missing woman,” he said. “But be warned. The longer you wait, the less likely you are to cut a deal for her murder.”
Instead of responding to his taunt, I crumpled his business card in my fist and tossed it into the trash can behind the counter. Score one for me.
Dobson’s cheeks burned tomato red with rage, but he whirled around and left the restaurant, yanking the front door open and stepping out onto the sidewalk. Ms. Wright and the other officers followed him.
Through the notices covering the windows, I could see Sophia standing beside one of the cop cars, her hands cuffed in front of her, waiting to be taken to the station. Catalina was talking to her, and Sophia kept nodding her head in response. Silvio lurked a few feet away from them, chatting up one of the officers about something. Probably what a crooked asshole Dobson was.
With her minion gone and his mission complete, Madeline finally deigned to sop up the last smear of barbecue sauce on her plate with a bit of bread, pop the whole thing into her mouth, and push her empty plate away. After taking one more slow, slurping sip of her iced tea, she slid out of her booth, got to her feet, and strolled over to me, her stilettos crack-crack-cracking against the floor. Emery left the booth as well, stepped outside, and stationed herself by the front door, staring over at Sophia, who glared right back at her.
Madeline set their white order ticket down on the counter, along with a hundred-dollar bill, which was more than enough to pay for the food she and Emery had eaten.
“I’m so sorry to hear that the restaurant’s been shut down, Gin. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the food. Other than it being a bit too salty.” She shrugged. “But you know the system. You do one little thing wrong, and everything just seems to snowball from there.”
I stared right back at her, not showing any emotion, and not saying a word. This was her moment to crow, and I was going to let her have it.
Every condemned person deserved one last meal, and monologue.
Madeline leaned forward. “See? I told you that you wouldn’t make it to the library dedication. Next time, you really should listen to me. Now, I’m afraid that you’re going to have to spend the afternoon bailing your friend out of jail. Better try to get her out of there before tonight. I’d ha
te for something . . . unfortunate to happen to her while she was locked up.”
Maybe that had been Madeline’s plan for me. Maybe Dobson wouldn’t have shot me to death on the way to the station after all. Maybe he would have put me in lockup with the worst of the worst and let nature take its course. Even I could only battle so many enemies at a time, especially in a small, confined space like a jail cell.
Madeline kept staring at me, that smug, satisfied smile on her face stretching her crimson lips higher and wider than ever before. I dropped my gaze to her order ticket and money lying on the counter. Cold rage surged through me, and I reached down and picked them both up, one in either hand.
A sharp, painful, burning sensation scorched my fingers the second they touched the papers, as though my hands were about to burst into flames, even though my skin remained perfectly smooth. But it wasn’t any kind of elemental Fire power at work, and no runes flared to life on either the order ticket or the money. Since Madeline had touched them both, invisible waves of her acid magic had soaked into the papers, since she was one of those elementals who constantly leaked magic, even when she wasn’t actively using her power. Although I thought that in this case she had put a small bit of effort into coating the papers with her magic, knowing that I would reach for them, if only to put her money into the cash register. It would have been one more fun little way for her to fuck with me today.
Madeline’s smile widened a smidge more, as she fully expected me to start screaming as soon as I touched the papers and felt her power. But I didn’t scream. Didn’t yell. Didn’t holler, curse, and fling the papers away in surprise, pain, and anger. Instead, I ignored the horrid, searing sensation of her acid magic as best I could, and I didn’t reach for my own Ice magic to numb my hands to block the agonizing sensation.
I raised my gaze to hers, my gray eyes colder than the coldest winter night. Then I slowly crumpled her order ticket into a tight wad, until my knuckles whitened from the strain. I held on to it for several seconds longer than necessary, just to show her that I could, even though every nerve ending in my hand was screaming at me to let go. Finally, I threw the smushed wad into the trash can, just like I had Dobson’s business card. Another point for me.
Black Widow Page 7