Venom in the Veins Read online

  I groaned. “Can’t that wait a few more minutes? I just got here. I need to prep for lunch.”

  “You can talk and chop vegetables at the same time,” he said in a dry tone. “I have faith in you, Gin.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I also knew when I was beaten, so I started slicing up tomatoes and lettuce while I told Silvio everything that had happened, including Vera Jones propositioning Mosley inside Underwood’s and then her and Eddie’s attack on the dwarf outside the restaurant. Silvio nodded the whole time, absorbing my words and typing notes on his tablet keyboard. He typed in a final few thoughts, then looked up at me.

  “I reached out to my contacts last night. I’m still waiting for some of them to get back to me, but from what I’ve been able to find out so far, your two muggers are definitely small-time. No known gang or criminal affiliations.”

  Disappointing but not surprising, given what Bria and Xavier had told me about Vera and Eddie. Since it looked like the muggers were going to be a dead end, literally, I moved on to the other thread I had to follow. “What about Mosley? Does he have any enemies who might have been behind the attempted mugging, kidnapping, or whatever that was?”

  Silvio shook his head. “No one who jumps out at me. Mosley is rock-solid, from the bank’s finances to his own personal conduct. No debts, no scandals, and no bad habits, like drinking or gambling. He’s a tough but fair boss, and everyone who works for Mosley respects him, as do the people who conduct business with him. The only recent trouble he’s had was when Deirdre Shaw tried to rob First Trust bank, but Mosley has made substantial reparations and assurances to his customers, and he’s been exceedingly generous to the families of the bank guards who were killed.” An admiring note crept into Silvio’s voice. “Another bank, another businessman might have gone under because of the robbery attempt and the subsequent fallout but not Mosley. He excels at crisis management as much as he does everything else.”

  Again, disappointing but not surprising, given everything Finn had told me about how tirelessly the dwarf had worked to undo the damage Deirdre Shaw had done to his bank and its reputation. Stuart Mosley was a stand-up guy all the way around.

  I’d already struck out twice, but I had one more at bat. So I pulled that photo of Mosley and Amelia Eaton out of the back pocket of my jeans and slid it across the counter to Silvio, who leaned over and studied it.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “I found it in Fletcher’s office last night, in a file he had on Mosley. You came across the file a few weeks ago when we were cleaning out the cabinets. Remember?”

  Silvio’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I remember seeing a folder with Mosley’s name on it, but I didn’t actually look inside it. I didn’t think there would be anything important in it. I still can’t believe that Fletcher kept a file on Mosley, like he was just another one of Ashland’s criminals. I thought they were friends.”

  “Fletcher kept files on everyone, especially his friends.” I tapped my finger on his tablet. “Are you telling me that you’ve never typed down a few notes about my strengths and weaknesses? My knives, fighting skills, and elemental magic? You know, just in case I ever went hard-core evil, and you had to figure out some way to stop me?”

  That was exactly the kind of worst-case scenario that I could imagine Silvio preparing for, since he prided himself on being ready for anything. He fidgeted on his stool, not meeting my gaze, although a telltale blush stained his cheeks, as though I’d just revealed one of his deepest, darkest secrets. So he did have a file on me. Interesting. I wondered what it said.

  Silvio cleared his throat, pointedly changing the subject. “But I still don’t understand why you think this photo is relevant now. This is Amelia Eaton, right? From what from I remember, she died years ago.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He picked up on the cold, flat tone in my voice. His eyebrows crept up a little higher in his face, and understanding filled his gray eyes. “Oh. You killed her, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.” My gaze dropped back down to the photo on the counter. “So why did Fletcher keep this picture of her and Mosley? He had to have some reason, and I want to know what it is before I ask Mosley about the photo.”

  “Don’t worry,” Silvio said. “I’ll look into it, and I’ll find out everything I can. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. Believe me, I do.”

  He flashed me a smile, pulled the photo closer, and studied it again, searching the background for clues like I had last night. After a few moments, he started typing on his keyboard again, and I remembered one more thing that I wanted to mention to him.

  “On a personal note, it might interest you to know that Liam Carter was also at Underwood’s last night. He sent a bottle of champagne over to me. Nice guy, for a crime boss. When are you going to go out with him?”

  Silvio’s fingers froze on his keyboard. He didn’t look at me, but his left eye started twitching. “My love life—or lack thereof—is not up for discussion this morning. Or any morning, for that matter.”

  “Oh, I think it would make for a fine discussion. Why, we should add it to the morning briefing just to make sure that we discuss it every single day.”

  Silvio remained steadfastly silent, but his eye kept twitching and that telltale blush flooded his face again. I laughed and went back to chopping vegetables, realizing that I’d teased him enough for one day.

  * * *

  While Silvio texted and emailed his sources, still looking into Vera and Eddie Jones, Stuart Mosley, and Amelia Eaton, the rest of the waitstaff showed up, including Catalina Vasquez, Silvio’s niece. Everyone got to work, refilling ketchup bottles, rolling straws and silverware into napkins, wiping down tables, and the like. At eleven o’clock sharp, I opened the front door to my first customers.

  For the next few hours, I cooked, cleaned, and cashed out folks until the lunch rush finally died down. Around two o’clock, the bell over the front door chimed, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

  Owen Grayson stepped inside, shrugged out of his black overcoat, and hung it on the rack by the door. Even though I’d just seen him yesterday afternoon when he’d come to the Pork Pit for a late lunch, I still drank in the sight of him. With his black hair, rugged features, and broad shoulders, Owen was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and I wasn’t the only woman who admired him as he strode across the restaurant. But he only had eyes for me, and I for him.

  Owen stepped around the counter, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss. His hands dropped to my waist, pulling me closer, and he leaned down and rested his forehead against mine. For a moment, all the noise, clatter, and commotion of the restaurant faded away, and we were the only two people in the room. I focused on the warmth of his skin touching mine, the soft brush of his breath against my face, the faint hint of his metallic scent tickling my nose. We stood there for the better part of a minute, holding on to each other and soaking in the love, care, and comfort that flowed between us.

  Owen kissed me again, then drew back. His violet gaze focused on my face, and concern creased his own features. Just like Bria, he could see my worry. “Rough night?”

  “Rougher than I would have liked.”

  Owen had been hanging out with his younger sister, Eva, last night, so he’d missed the dinner with Mosley, but I’d called him this morning when I’d been racing around the house getting ready and told him what was going on. I had insisted that I was fine, but it still warmed my heart that he’d come to the restaurant to check on me. His consideration was just one of the many things I loved about him.

  “Have you figured out who was behind the attack yet?” he asked.

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Silvio, who was still typing away. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

  Owen grinned. “I would expect nothing less from the mighty Spider.”

  Silvio pointedly cleared his throat.

  “And her trusty assistant, the
great Silvio,” he added.

  The vampire huffed. “You make it sound like we’re some sort of cheesy magic act. I feel like I should be wearing a black cape and a top hat and waving around a wand.”

  “Aren’t we?” I asked. “You’re trying to find out who might want Mosley dead. That’s not too different from pulling a rabbit out of a hat, especially given all the crime in Ashland.”

  “Well, if we’re a magic act, then I should get to saw you in half,” Silvio quipped.

  “That’s a bit homicidal.”

  “Says the assassin,” he shot right back at me.

  Silvio gave me a triumphant look, knowing that I didn’t have a comeback for that particular zinger. Owen snickered at our bantering, then stepped around the counter and sat down on a stool next to the vampire.

  Owen ordered a barbecue chicken platter with sourdough rolls, coleslaw, baked beans, onion rings, and a sweet iced tea, while Silvio requested some of the cherry-almond cookies I’d baked this morning, along with his third coffee refill. Sometimes I thought the vampire could subsist on sugar and caffeine alone.

  Sophia helped me fix their food, and the four of us chatted back and forth while the dwarf and I got everything ready and slid their plates across the counter.

  Owen tucked into his meal and sighed with pleasure. “The chicken and the baked beans are fantastic today. I swear the barbecue sauce gets better every time I eat here.”

  “Of course it tastes great,” I crowed. “Because I make it.”

  Sophia jabbed her elbow into my side hard enough to make me wince. “I made the sauce today, remember?”

  “I certainly do now,” I wheezed, and massaged my aching ribs.

  Like all dwarves, Sophia was exceptionally strong, but she didn’t know her own strength sometimes, especially when she was trying to teach me a lesson.

  “Well, my thanks go to the cook.” Owen winked at the Goth dwarf, who smiled back at him.

  Now that credit had been given where credit was due, Sophia went over to the ovens to slide in another tray of her sourdough rolls. Owen and Silvio dug into their food, while I moved around the restaurant, refilling drinks for the other diners, clearing away their dirty dishes, and wiping down the tables after they’d paid up and left.

  I had just cashed out the final group of diners and told the waitstaff to take a break in the back when the bell over the front door chimed, and two more customers stepped into the restaurant: Mallory and Lorelei Parker.

  Mallory was a three-hundred-plus-year-old dwarf with a fluffy cloud of snow-white hair, while Lorelei, her great-granddaughter many times over, was around my age, thirty-one or so, with black hair, blue eyes, and pretty features. The two of them shrugged out of their coats and hung them on the rack by the door.

  Given how empty the restaurant was, I thought they might slide into a booth so they would be more comfortable, but Mallory marched straight over to the counter, and Lorelei followed her.

  Mallory’s quick, precise movements made the stacks of diamond rings on her fingers flash, along with the impressive diamond choker around her neck. No matter how big or small the occasion, I’d never seen her without a plethora of jewels.

  Lorelei was also wearing diamonds, although hers were far more subdued, limited to a single ring with a rose-and-thorn pattern, her personal rune, the symbol for how deadly beauty could be.

  The two of them slid onto stools beside Silvio. Mallory gestured at me with a sharp, impatient wave, and I walked over to her and Lorelei, who gave me a far more polite and normal nod of greeting.

  “Ladies,” I drawled. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I want to hire you,” Mallory pronounced in her twangy, hillbilly voice, going straight past niceties and getting down to business.

  Not what I’d expected her to say, but she was my friend, so I decided to play along. “Okay. For what?”

  “For what you do best, Gin.” Mallory leaned forward and stabbed her finger at me. “I want you to find whomever is behind that attack on Stuart Mosley and kill them.”

  Chapter Eight

  Again, not what I had expected her to say, but there was no missing the anger and determination glinting in the dwarf’s blue eyes.

  “Finn called and told me all about it this morning,” Mallory continued in that same sharp voice.

  I frowned. Finn had called and left me a message while I was oversleeping, saying that everything was quiet and he was going to stick to Mosley like glue all day. He hadn’t mentioned anything about looping in Mallory.

  “Finn called you about Mosley?” I asked. “Why?”

  Mallory ducked her head, but not before I noticed the pink blush staining her wrinkled cheeks. “Finn thought I would want to know, since Stuart and I are old friends.”

  Lorelei snorted. “If by old friends you really mean old friends with benefits, then yes, you could say that. One might even say that the two of you are the very best of friends.”

  Mallory’s blush brightened, and she waved her hand, making her diamond rings sparkle again. “In my day, it wasn’t polite to talk about a lady’s relationship with a gentleman.”

  Lorelei snorted again, amused by her grandmother’s old-fashioned sensibilities.

  “And how did you and Mosley become such good friends?” I asked.

  “Stuart and I knew each other growing up, although we lost touch over the years. A couple of months ago, we ran into each other during that cocktail party at First Trust bank.” Mallory’s blush brightened even more. “Things just…progressed from there.”

  I had seen the two of them talking during the bank’s doomed party, right before Rodrigo Santos and his men had tried to rob the guests, and I remembered how friendly they had seemed. Good for them for finding each other again after all these years.

  “Lorelei and I just came from the bank,” Mallory continued. “Did you know that stupid, stubborn fool actually went to work today? As if he wasn’t almost killed last night!”

  “Actually, the bank is probably the safest place for Mosley to be,” Lorelei pointed out in a calm, reasonable voice, as if she’d already said this more than once. “It is one of the most secure buildings in Ashland, and the bank guards and employees are all exceedingly loyal to Mosley. Nobody’s getting to him there.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.” Mallory shook her head. “I just don’t like it.”

  “Now you sound like Gin,” Silvio murmured.

  “Yep,” Owen chimed in. “As paranoid as paranoid can be.”

  “Hey!” I leaned over the counter and lightly punched my significant other on the shoulder. “Have we forgotten about Hugh Tucker and the Circle? Not to mention the underworld bosses who want me dead. I have very good reasons for my paranoia.”

  “I know.” Owen grinned. “But you get all cute and sexy when you get worked up about it.”

  He winked at me. I rolled my eyes and punched him on the shoulder again, but I was smiling the whole time.

  A few more folks trickled into the restaurant, and I went over and took their orders. Mallory and Lorelei decided to eat as well, since we hadn’t finished our conversation.

  Ten minutes later, Sophia handed me several plates, and I served the other customers, along with my friends—grilled cheese with a side salad for Mallory and a buttermilk fried chicken platter with sourdough rolls, mashed potatoes, and mac and cheese for Lorelei.

  I checked on the other customers, making sure everyone had what they needed, then came back over to the counter, where Mallory and Lorelei were still sitting with Silvio and Owen.

  Lorelei must have been hungry, because she’d already polished off one piece of the golden-brown, crunchy fried chicken, but Mallory just moved her salad from one side of the bowl to the other, and she hadn’t even touched her grilled cheese. She was still worrying about Mosley.

  Since Lorelei was eating and Mallory was brooding, I decided to do some more work. So I put some mayonnaise in a large bowl, then added white vinegar, sugar, salt, and a
generous dash of black pepper to make the tart, tangy dressing for the rest of the day’s coleslaw. I grabbed a whisk and started blending the ingredients together.

  Mallory finally sighed and put down her fork without taking a single bite of her salad. “It would be one thing if Stuart was going to work at the bank where it’s safe all day. But he’s not. Oh, no. He’s on his way over to the Eaton Estate right now to make sure everything’s ready for that charity auction tonight.”

  Shock jolted through me. The whisk slipped from my hand, hit the side of the metal bowl with a loud clang, and dropped down into the coleslaw dressing. “What did you say?”

  “That Stuart is going ahead with the auction tonight,” Mallory repeated. “Didn’t Finn tell you?”

  “No, not that. Where did you say it was being held?”

  “The Eaton Estate.” She frowned. “Why?”

  I thought back to my conversation with Mosley at Underwood’s last night. He’d said something about having to find a venue, but he’d never mentioned exactly where the auction was being held, and I hadn’t asked. But the Eaton Estate? That couldn’t be a coincidence…could it?

  I looked over at Silvio, whose thoughtful expression told me that he was thinking the same thing. I nodded, and he reached down, pulled the photo I’d given him out of his briefcase on the floor, and slid it over to where Mallory and Lorelei could see it. Owen leaned forward so he could study the photo too.

  “Amelia Eaton,” Mallory said. “I haven’t thought about her in years. Where did you get this?”

  “I found it last night in a file in Fletcher’s office.”

  The two women looked at me, understanding filling their faces. They both knew about Fletcher’s propensity for keeping track of criminals, as well as the people he had helped as the Tin Man. People like Lorelei, whom Fletcher had rescued from her abusive father.

  Lorelei pointed at Amelia’s smiling face. “Wait a second. Isn’t she dead?”

  “Most definitely,” I muttered.