Black Widow (7 page)

“What about me?” another, far whinier voice called out.

Finn stepped up next to Owen. Their offices were close to each other, so the two of them must have met up and walked over here together to grab lunch.

“Well?” Finn demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, a petulant look on his handsome face. “Don't I merit some sort of greeting?”

I waved my hand at him, just to annoy him. “You? I saw you yesterday. Why, you're just everyday old stuff.”

Fletcher would always say that whenever he wanted to rein in his son's ego a bit. Not that it ever worked for long, though.

Finn huffed and slapped his hands on his hips. “Everyday old stuff?
Everyday old stuff?
I am
insulted
, Gin.
Deeply
insulted.”

Owen winked at me, amused by Finn's exaggerated histrionics. I ignored my foster brother, leaned across the counter, and kissed Owen again.

Finn might have been
deeply
insulted, but his wounded feelings didn't keep him from plopping down on the stool next to Silvio, with Owen taking the one that was the closest to my seat behind the cash register. Owen and Finn said their helloes to the vamp, who was texting on his phone, working his sources to try to find out about Dobson as
well as Madeline's mysterious party. Silvio murmured a polite response, but his eyes never left the small screen.

Sophia and Catalina took care of the rest of the customers while I fixed up my friends' food—a grilled-cheese sandwich and sweet-potato fries for Silvio, a fried-chicken salad slathered with honey-mustard dressing for Finn, and a double-bacon cheeseburger and onion rings for Owen, with triple-chocolate milkshakes all around.

I had just set the guys' food on the counter in front of them when something entirely expected happened. The front door opened, and Madeline strolled inside, with Emery trailing along behind her.

Madeline looked the same as always—auburn hair, green eyes, crimson lips, white suit. Her silverstone crown-and-flame necklace glittered like a ring of ice around her throat, while the matching ring flashed on her finger. Emery wore her usual black suit with a white shirt, almost as if she were playing opposites with her boss's clothes.

Catalina seated them in a booth by the storefront windows that was almost directly across from my position at the cash register. Madeline gave me a cheery little wave as she settled herself in her seat, then leaned forward and started talking to Emery in a low voice the second that Catalina had taken their drink order and moved away from them.

It didn't surprise me that Madeline was here. She'd come to the restaurant at least once a week to eat—and usually more—since she'd been in Ashland. In her own way, I supposed that Madeline was keeping as close an eye on me as I was on her with my tree house outside her mansion.

Still, her smile seemed particularly smug, and her mood particularly perky today. I glanced at the clock on
the wall. It was creeping up on one thirty, and the library dedication was at three, the event she said that I wouldn't be attending for some mysterious reason.

Dread tickled my stomach, and I reached up and touched the spider rune pendant resting in the hollow of my throat, hidden under my T-shirt and apron. I was wearing my necklace and ring today, just as Madeline was, and the feel of my Ice and Stone magic pulsing through the silverstone soothed me.

Owen, Finn, and Silvio had all noticed my newest customers, and the three of them stared at Madeline and Emery for several seconds before turning to face me. Silvio started texting on his phone again, his fingers moving even faster than before.

“What's her game?” Owen murmured.

“Other than torturing Gin with her mere presence?” Finn replied in a snide tone. “That's probably enough for her.”

I shook my head. “Oh, I doubt that.”

But there was nothing I could do about Madeline, short of demanding that she leave and making a commotion that would disturb my other customers. Which might be exactly what she wanted. So I resisted the urge to tell her to get out of my restaurant and fixed their food in silence. Both she and Emery had ordered barbecue-beef sandwiches with sides of baked beans, fried green tomatoes, and potato salad.

I thought about poisoning their food, just like I did every time they ate here, but I resisted the urge. While highly entertaining, Madeline's dropping dead in a plate of barbecue would be just a little too suspicious and bring far too much attention to me. Besides, I'd noticed that
Emery always tasted their food first anyway, on the lookout for poison, like a good bodyguard should be.

So I handed the hot plates and poison-free food off to Catalina, who served them, then sat back down on my stool. I looked at the copy of
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
by Ian Fleming that I was supposed to be reading for the spy-literature course I was taking over at Ashland Community College, but I didn't pick up the book. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on it. Not while Madeline and Emery were here.

Owen's phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket, frowning at the message on the screen.

Once again, that cold finger of unease slithered up my spine. “Something wrong?”

He sighed. “It's this deal I'm trying to get done. Two weeks ago, all we had to do was sign on the dotted line, and everything was finished. But ever since then, the guy has been balking at every little thing. Now he's telling me that he's gotten a better offer from someone else, when yesterday he was in my office saying that he was finally ready to sign the contracts. Excuse me, but I need to try to talk him down—again.”

Owen slid off his stool, moved over to the wall next to the cash register, and started texting on his phone.

“Don't even think it,” Finn warned, noticing the tense look on my face.

“What?”

“That this is some sort of plot on Madeline's part. Deals fall through all the time. Trust me. I know.”

Silvio looked up from his phone and shook his head. “I don't know. I'm with Gin on this one. Madeline comes
into the restaurant, and Owen suddenly gets bad news? It seems a bit suspicious to me.”

Finn clapped the thin man on the shoulder, almost sending him spinning off his stool. “That's because you spent most of your life working for a psychotic vampire who enjoyed sucking the emotions out of people at the drop of a hat. Relax, Silvio. You and Gin are paranoid enough for
everyone
.”

Silvio and I both gave Finn a sour look, but neither of us said a word. Maybe he was right, and we were too paranoid, but that was one of the reasons we'd both survived this long. In fact, Silvio's paranoia was one of the things I admired most about him, along with his attention to detail. The vampire sniffed and smoothed down his tie, making the small silverstone spider rune pin in the center of the gray silk flash underneath the lights.

Now that he'd teased Silvio a sufficient amount, Finn slurped down the rest of his milkshake while he checked his own phone and messages.

“Don't worry,” I said in a low voice, handing Silvio a plate of chocolate chip cookies that I'd baked earlier. “You'll get used to Finn . . . eventually.”

“I rather doubt that,” Silvio responded in a dry tone.

I hid a smile.

*  *  *

Despite my growing unease, Madeline and Emery remained in their booth, eating their food, while I chatted with my friends. Things were fine, if a bit tense, for the next ten minutes, until the front door opened again, and a gorgeous woman strolled inside.

She was as perfect as perfect could be—sleek black hair,
light hazel eyes, porcelain skin. Her plum-colored skirt was barely legal, and the matching four-inch stilettos on her feet made her toned legs seem even longer than they were. Smoky gray shadow and fuchsia lipstick highlighted her features, while a thin gold chain glinted around her neck.

Every head—male and female—turned to stare at her as she sashayed over to the counter. But as pretty as she was, I didn't like the look of her, and I glanced down, making sure I had an extra knife within easy reach in one of the slots in the counter underneath the cash register.

But the woman wasn't interested in me. She didn't even glance at me as she sidled up next to Finn, sliding onto the stool that Owen had vacated, since he was still leaning against the wall, texting his skittish businessman.

Silvio shot the woman a wary look as well, but Finn was all smiles as she leaned over and propped one elbow up on the counter, giving him an excellent view of the impressive cleavage spilling out of the top of her tight suit jacket.

“Are you Finnegan Lane?” she purred in a low, sultry voice.

Finn immediately brought out the big guns and favored her with his most dazzling, charming, aw-shucks grin, the one that had turned more than one woman into a pile of blubbering mush and made her panties pop off like a bottle top. “Why, I most
certainly
am Mr. Finnegan Lane. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?”

The woman gave Finn a sexy smile. She leaned in a little closer, and so did he, until he was practically sitting in her lap. The woman let out a breathy sigh, making her cleavage emphatically rise and fall under Finn's appreciative
gaze. Then she reached into her suit jacket, drew a folded piece of paper out from inside her lace bra, and slapped it into his hand.

“You've been served,” she chirped, sliding off the stool and strutting away. “Have a nice day!”

Finn almost toppled off his own stool, but he managed to grab the counter at the last second and hoist himself back upright. He kept staring at the paper in his other hand, then the door that the woman had disappeared through, as if he couldn't believe what had happened.

Maybe it was wrong, but I laughed—loudly—at his obvious confusion. It was the first time in ages that I could remember anyone getting the better of him. I'd always thought that Finn's incessant flirting would get him into trouble, and it looked like today was finally that day.

Finn roused himself out of his stupor and unfolded the paper, scanning the document, his green eyes bulging wider and wider with every word he read.

“Problems?” I asked in a snide tone.

“I'm . . . I'm . . . I'm being
sued 
!” he sputtered, whipping the paper back and forth in the air as if it were a flag in the middle of a tornado.

“For what?”

Finn stopped sputtering long enough to read through the document a little more carefully. “Mismanagement of funds at my bank.”

I frowned. Of all the things that Finn could get sued for, that one should have been pretty far down on the list. He might have no qualms about tap-dancing around the IRS and their tax rules and regulations, but he did a great job investing, protecting, and growing money for his clients.

Finn's face grew darker and angrier the longer he scanned the paper. “Oh, it's from
this
schmuck. I should have guessed. He got all pissy with me last quarter because I only got him a ten percent return on his investment, when he wanted twelve. Doesn't he know how craptastic the market is right now? Mismanagement of funds, my ass. I've made this idiot a fortune this year alone. A fortune!”

Finn continued to rant and rave, but I tuned him out and stared at Madeline. She was still talking to Emery, although she had seen the commotion surrounding Finn, since everyone in the restaurant was now looking at him like he was a few bananas short of a fruit salad.

Roslyn and her greedy liquor distributor. Owen and his flip-flopping businessman. Finn and his impending lawsuit. Three seemingly separate things that had happened to my friends in twenty-four hours. A cold ball of worry formed in the pit of my stomach.

I dragged my gaze away from Madeline. I started to ask Finn another question, but I didn't get the chance. The door to the restaurant slammed open, jangling the bell so hard that it almost flew off the top of the wooden frame, and Eva Grayson stormed inside, a backpack and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in her fists and angry tears in her blue eyes.

“Owen!” she yelled. “Finally!”

Owen looked up from his phone. “Eva? What's wrong?”

She marched over to her big brother and thrust the piece of paper at him, the sharp, hurried motions making her long black ponytail slap against her shoulders. “I've been suspended from school.”

“What? Why?” Owen took the paper from her and snapped it open.

“For cheating,” Eva spat out. “Somebody told the dean that I was selling answers to a chemistry test. I got called over to the administrative office this morning. The chem professor and the campus police were there too, and they all totally blindsided me. I'd never seen that stupid test before, and I certainly didn't sell the answers to it. I don't even
know
the answers to it. But no matter what I said, or how much I denied it, they all just kept staring at me and saying that it really would be better if I admitted everything. I got so fed up that I told them all to go screw themselves. They said that they had to investigate the situation, and that I was suspended until they could figure things out.”

Eva clamped her lips together, but she couldn't keep the tears from trickling down her flushed cheeks. Owen put his arm around her shoulder, murmuring into her ear as he tried to comfort her.

Eva's distress was enough to get Finn to put aside his own problems. He looked at her and Owen, then glanced over at Madeline, before finally turning back to me.

“Still think I'm being paranoid?” I sniped.

He never got the chance to answer me.

The front door opened yet again, and a giant with broad shoulders and a substantial potbelly waddled inside. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped into a buzz cut that he had somehow spiked up even more with hair gel, while his cheeks had the ruddy look of someone who either drank a lot or was a cheeseburger away from having a heart attack. But what really caught my attention
was the gold badge clipped to the pocket of his navy suit jacket, right over his heart.