Black Widow (10 page)

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
crack
ing 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 at 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-crack
ing 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.”