“Nobody talks in Southtown,” they said in unison.
They both laughed a little, and then my sister turned to me.
“Nobody’s going to testify against you, Gin,” she said. “Not after what they saw you do to Benson.”
I grimaced, but she was right. And I realized that in a way, I’d become just like the drug kingpin. I didn’t know how I felt about that—or what the consequences of my actions here today would be.
Finn pulled his Aston Martin up to the entrance and beeped the horn. The wail of the sirens grew louder as the cop cars crossed the bridge.
“Go,” Xavier rumbled. “We’ve got your back.”
“Always,” Bria added.
I flashed them both a grateful smile, then jogged over to Finn, Phillip, Owen, and our getaway car.
• • •
News of Beauregard Benson’s death consumed the newspapers and airwaves for the next few days. Story after story was reported about the vampire’s death and the destruction of his mansion, which was looted and burned to the ground the night I killed him.
The police spun it as a drug war gone wrong, but Bria was right. No one who’d witnessed my fight to the death with Benson stepped forward to contradict the cops’ theory, although Finn told me that word of what I’d done to the vampire had already spread like wildfire through the underworld. Apparently, all the other crime bosses were on high alert, thinking that I was going to come after them next. Which meant that they would no doubt be sending more and more people to try to kill me first. So I’d solved one problem and created about a dozen more for myself, the way I always did.
But I wasn’t worried about the criminals as much as I was curious about how Benson’s Burn supplier was handling the news of his death. I imagined that she was rather pleased with it. Not that I would normally do anything that would ever please her, but Benson hadn’t given me a choice. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like my strings had been pulled and that I would have been forced into some sort of confrontation with the vampire sooner or later, even if Catalina hadn’t witnessed Troy’s murder. But all I could do was wait and see if my theory would turn out to be correct.
So life slowly went back to normal, and I returned to my regular duties at the Pork Pit.
Three days after I’d killed Benson, I was wiping down the counter next to the cash register when the bell over the front door chimed, and a familiar figure strolled inside: Silvio.
I hadn’t seen or talked to him since Xavier, Owen, and Phillip whisked him away to the Delta Queen to be healed by Jo-Jo, although I’d heard from Phillip that Silvio had been staying on board the riverboat the past few days, getting his strength back. But he looked as cool and collected as ever, in an elegant gray suit and matching shirt and tie. His hair was slicked back into its usual style, and his face and body had filled out again, thanks to all the food I’d been sending over to the riverboat, much to the consternation of Phillip’s chef, Gustav.
Silvio looked around the restaurant, staring at the other customers, before smoothing down his tie and heading over to me. He gestured at the stool closest to the cash register.
“May I?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “Knock yourself out.”
He took a seat. Catalina pushed through the double doors, coming out of the back of the restaurant after taking a break. This was her first day back working her regular shift. When she’d come in at noon, I’d told her that she could take as much time off as she needed, but Catalina had insisted on staying. She said returning to her routine would help her deal with things. I couldn’t argue with that, since I was doing the same thing myself. Trying to lose myself in the rhythms of cooking and running the restaurant instead of thinking about what Benson had done to me.
I just hoped that Catalina’s recovery wouldn’t be as slow as mine.
Catalina’s face lit up at the sight of her uncle. She came around the counter and kissed his cheek. Silvio gave her a light, affectionate pat on the shoulder. Catalina grinned at him before moving around the restaurant, seeing to the needs of the other customers. Silvio watched her seat a couple and hand them a pair of menus before turning back to face me. His gray gaze swept over me, lingering on my blue work apron and the sparkly pig pin that I’d hooked on to it.
“You are looking quite well, Gin,” he said. “All things considered.”
“So are you, Silvio.”
He smoothed down his tie again, which no longer had Benson’s rune tacked into the middle of it.
“Yes, well, your friend Ms. Deveraux took excellent care of me.”
I nodded. “She always does that.”
“I want you to know that I offered to compensate her for her services, but she wouldn’t take my money,” he said, frowning a little, as though the thought distressed him.
Jo-Jo had told me all about Silvio’s repeated attempts to pay her for healing him. Even I had been impressed by the dollar amount he’d quoted her. It seemed that Silvio had been saving up for a rainy day, to have that kind of cash stashed away. Then again, he’d worked for Benson. I would have been saving up for a long time too.
I waved my hand. “Don’t worry about Jo-Jo. She actually likes patching people up. Besides, she’s on my payroll. It’s all been taken care of.”
He nodded. “I thought as much.”
Catalina came back over, and Silvio stopped her and ordered some food. I’d thought that perhaps he’d simply come to check up on his niece, but it looked like he was actually going to eat. Or perhaps he was just biding his time and working up to whatever he really wanted to talk to me about. Either way, I decided to let him stay. He could still use a few more pounds on his lean figure, and one of the Pork Pit’s triple chocolate milkshakes was a great way to get started on that.
Sophia fixed Silvio’s food, and Catalina set the plates in front of him, which included a grilled cheese sandwich and side orders of onion rings, potato salad, and fried green tomatoes. He washed it all down with the milkshake I made him, and then I gave him a piece of cherry pie topped with vanilla-bean ice cream for dessert, but he merely nibbled on that, claiming that he was full.
In between waiting on the other customers, Catalina chatted with her uncle, laughing and joking with him and me too. With Benson no longer a threat, she seemed to be back to her usual cheerful self, although the darkness in her eyes told me that she was still haunted by what happened to Troy.
Just like I was haunted by what happened to Coral all those years ago. But I’d learned to live with my pain, memories, and regrets, and I hoped that Catalina would too.
Eventually, though, Catalina’s shift ended, and she packed up her things to go to class. She kissed Silvio’s cheek, waved good-bye to me, and left the restaurant, making the bell on the front door chime on her way out.
“She always told me how much she enjoyed working here,” Silvio murmured. “But I never really believed her.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I wanted better things for her than working in some greasy dive.”
I arched my eyebrows. “No offense taken.”
“I meant none.”
“And now?”
He shrugged again. “I can see the charm of your establishment.”
“Thanks,” I drawled. “But don’t go overboard with the compliments. They might go to my head or something.”
Silvio arched an eyebrow back at me, then carefully, politely, thoughtfully stacked his dirty dishes on top of each other and moved them off to the side on the counter.
He’d brought a silverstone briefcase into the restaurant, which he’d set on the stool next to him. He popped open the top and pulled out an electronic tablet.
“So,” he said, staring up at me expectantly, his finger poised over the screen. “Where shall we begin in organizing your schedule?”
I blinked. “My schedule? What schedule?”
He tapped at something on the tablet, then turned it around where I could see it. The image on the screen
looked suspiciously like . . . a calendar. The sort that a businessman might use to keep track of meetings, lunches, and whatnot.
I stared at his suit, then at his briefcase, then at the tablet he was still holding out to me. And I finally got an inkling of why Silvio was really here.
I laughed. “Sorry, Silvio, but I’m not the type who needs or wants an assistant.”
He waved his hand, pooh-poohing my objections. “A business owner such as yourself, not to mention a prominent elemental, needs a professional assistant. Trust me on that.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t. Besides, you worked for Benson for years. Don’t you want to take a break? Rest and relax and all of that?”
Silvio’s index finger tap-tap-tapped on the tablet, making image after image flash by on the screen. “What do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve been sitting on that riverboat for the past few days, and I’m already bored out of my mind. I’m one of those people who need to keep working, Gin.”
“And you’ve decided that you want to work for me?” I shook my head again. “Some folks would say that you had a death wish, Silvio. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the safest person to be around. And it’s only going to get worse, given what I did to Benson. No doubt, the other underworld bosses will see it as the opening salvo in some sort of war against them.”
He nodded. “Of course they’ll see it that way.”
“And here I thought that I was just doing a bit of pest extermination.”
Silvio gave me a patronizing look, apparently not getting my joke. Admittedly, it was a bit lame.
“By killing Benson in the manner that you did, you declared yourself to be a major power player in Ashland and worthy of being Mab Monroe’s successor. You’ve thrown your hat into the ring, Gin. There’s no taking it back now.”
I sighed. “I know. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let things keep going on the way they were.”
He nodded. “And I believe it was precisely the right action to take. Whatever you think of Beau, everyone knew that he was strong and not someone to be trifled with. Now they’ll think the same of you. Trust me. People won’t just come here to kill you anymore. They’ll want to do business with you too. Perhaps even hire you as the Spider. All that means meetings and a calendar and a schedule to keep.”
I groaned.
“And that’s why you need me,” Silvio continued. “To keep everything organized, but mostly, to be your eyes and ears and keep you apprised of any threats.”
“You want to spy on the other underworld bosses for me?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying. Not exactly. But you’d be surprised how much you can learn by just being someone’s assistant, hanging around outside of meetings, chatting with other assistants, and the like.”
The truth was that I could use a middleman of sorts, if only to try to warn would-be assassins away from me and the restaurant. But I wasn’t about to take advantage of Silvio that way. That would make me no better than Benson, always expecting him to fetch my coat for me.
I shook my head again. “I appreciate the offer, Silvio. Really, I do. But I don’t need an assistant. So take this time for yourself. Do the things that you’ve always wanted to do. You don’t owe me anything for saving you, if that’s what this is about.”
Silvio straightened up, his face as indignant and insulted as if I’d slapped him with a black glove. “Of course I don’t owe you anything. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to come back for me. It was rather stupid of you to do so, especially for me, a complete stranger. And you should have just let Mr. Lane put a couple of bullets into Beau’s head, instead of facing him down yourself. In the future, I hope that you will refrain from taking such foolish risks. I would hate to have to search for another employer.”
The chiding note in his voice reminded me of Fletcher. I raised my eyebrows at him, and Silvio calmed down.
“But I do owe you for Catalina,” he said. “I told Laura that I would watch out for her, and I haven’t exactly done a terrific job of it. But you saved Catalina from Benson, you protected her when I could not, and I am more grateful for that than you will ever realize. I always pay my debts, Gin. You should know that about me.”
“I would have helped Catalina regardless of you or anything else.”
He smiled a little. “I know that too. It’s why I’m going to work for you instead of just paying you off.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured.
But Silvio wasn’t about to be denied. He gestured down at his tablet again. “Now that that’s all settled, why don’t we get started?”
30
I protested again that I didn’t need an assistant, or whatever Silvio saw himself as, but he remained stubbornly steadfast in his insistence that I did. Luckily, some new customers came into the restaurant to take me away from him. I thought that would be the end of things, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he picked up his stuff and settled himself in an out-of-the-way booth next to the restrooms, alternately texting on his phone and tapping on his tablet.
I had no idea what he was so furiously typing, but I didn’t have the heart to send him away. If he truly was trying to organize my schedule, it would probably go something like this.
Eat breakfast. Come to work. Check for booby traps. Open restaurant. Ask Sophia to dispose of the latest bodies in the cooler. Kill would-be assassins during afternoon trash run.
And so on and so forth.
But Silvio seemed happy enough doing whatever he was doing, so I left him alone. Besides, I had other things to worry about—like the black Audi.
I’d been keeping an eye out for it, wondering when the occupants would make an appearance at the Pork Pit. And when it pulled up to the curb and sat there idling, it seemed as though its occupants were debating whether they really wanted to come inside. Oh, she wanted to come inside, all right. And I wanted her to.
I wanted to confront my new enemy and my oldest problem face-to-face.
I was mildly surprised that it had taken her this long to make an appearance, but I was grateful for the last few days of solitude. I finished wiping down the table I’d been working on, then wandered over behind the counter to where Sophia was chopping up some onions.
“Two women are going to come into the restaurant,” I said. “An elemental and a giant. Just keep cooking. Don’t pay any attention to them, no matter what happens.”
“Who are they?” Sophia rasped.
“They’re connected to this whole Benson mess. I can handle them. Nobody you need to worry about today. Okay?”
She nodded and kept chopping onions.
As if on cue, the bell over the front door chimed, and two women walked into the restaurant: the giant and the auburn-haired woman.
One of the waitresses went over to seat them and take their order. The waitress handed me the ticket for their burgers, potato salads, onion rings, and sweet iced teas, and I spent the next few minutes fixing their food. Once again, the giant stared around the restaurant, her cold, flat eyes assessing everyone inside. Her gaze lingered on Silvio, who was seated three booths away, but he kept fiddling with his tablet as though he were totally engrossed in it, and her eyes moved past him.
The auburn-haired woman kept glancing at me, not being nearly as subtle as she was the first time she’d eaten in my joint, but I paid no attention to her, as though I didn’t notice her stares. When I was finished with their food, I handed the plates off to the waitress, who served them. Then I sat down on my stool behind the cash register, reading my way toward the conclusion of You Only Live Twice, as if they were just another pair of customers.
They weren’t, of course, especially since I was certain that both of the women wanted me dead. Well, the feeling was definitely mutual. But this was their chess game, and I would play along—for now.
I stayed by the cash register and read my book while the two women ate. Eventually, they began talking to each other in low voices. Silvio started typing and tapping
even more furiously on his tablet. I had no idea what he was doing, and I was too concerned about this new threat to care.
The women finished their food, but they dawdled over their dirty dishes, chatting as though they were having the grandest time in the world. Maybe they were. Or maybe they were just waiting for me to notice them. Well, they’d waited long enough.
I was about to get off my stool, go over, and formally introduce myself when the giant slid out of the booth and came over to the cash register, the order ticket in her hand. She handed me some bills, telling me to keep the change. I thought that she would walk away, but instead, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
“She’d like a word with you,” the giant said.
“I just bet she would.”
The giant blinked, apparently surprised by my snide tone, but I decided to oblige her. The giant stayed by the cash register, so I walked around the counter, went over, and slid into the booth across from the auburn-haired woman. She looked at me, and I stared back at her.
Silence.
All around us, the other diners kept eating, talking, and laughing, but the auburn-haired woman and I sat in quiet contemplation, studying each other the way enemies do.
Heart-shaped mouth. Perfect cheekbones. Vivid green eyes with large black pupils. Just the right amount of understated makeup to bring out her pale, milky complexion.
Up close, she was even more stunning than I remembered, easily one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, right up there with Roslyn. She was dressed in an expensive white business suit that showed off the toned, sleek lines of her body, but my gaze locked onto her most important feature.
Her rune necklace.
She hadn’t been wearing it the first time she was in here, but a thick silverstone chain ringed her neck now, with a large pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat, a crown with a flame in the center of it. The rune for raw, destructive power, the same symbol that had been stamped into the Burn pills. The crown was also crafted out of silverstone, but it was the flame in the center of the design that caught my eye, since it was made out of a single large emerald.
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