Read Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3) Online
Authors: Lisa Emme
Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3) (6 page)
“What the heck are all these?” I rifled through a stack of
papers on the counter. I was in the flower shop with Tiffy and Mrs. Potts.
“Résumés, dear.” Mrs. P smiled brightly. “Isn’t that
wonderful? So many people want to work in the coffee shop.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. But how do they all know there is even going
to be a coffee shop? It’s not like I’ve advertised positions or anything.” I
looked at Mrs. P skeptically. There must have been over a dozen applications.
“Have I?” She had taken over so much of the job of overseeing everything
involved with the new shop, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she had
placed an ad somewhere.
“Werewolf grapevine,” Tess answered my question as she
traipsed through the door. She had that freshly showered look and was munching on a
piece of toast with peanut butter. Yeah, we buy it in bulk.
“The what?” I asked, watching as Tiffy stiffened then
relaxed, her flight response almost completely conquered. Her nostrils flared
and she looked closely at Tess’s toast, smacking her lips hungrily. I made a
mental note to bring a jar of peanut butter down for her next time. You never thank a brownie,
or any Fae for that matter, if you can help it. Most Fae will
use your gratitude against you, but brownies find it insulting. Regular sweet
treats were the sure fire way to keep a brownie happy and show your gratitude
without saying it, but maybe Tiffy might want to try some peanut butter.
“The grapevine. The gossip mill. Whatever you want to call
it. Word is out that you are expanding into a new business. Now that you are
officially part of the pack, you’ll find that other pack members may decide
they want to pitch in. Or they may be looking for you to do them a solid and
give a fellow pack member a job.” She popped the last bite of toast into her
mouth.
“Really? Cool.” I nodded my head. The werewolf pack
wasn’t much different than the witch community, everyone lending a hand to help
each other. It was kind of nice to be accepted into the pack - even though I
didn’t go furry and howl at the moon - especially since I had sort of quit the coven,
unaffiliating myself from the Conclave after one of their members pissed me off
with his pretentious attitude. “You just waking up?” I made a show of looking
at the clock on the wall. It was after three. Tess looked a little sheepish.
Suddenly, it dawned on me. “Ohmigod! Are you just getting home?” I looked at
her clothes, trying to remember what she had on at the bonfire the night
before. Tess’s cheeks turned bright red. “You are!” I gaped at her. “You
are so totally busted.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her into the coffee
shop. I had intended to lead her over to one of the new booths so she could
dish, but she stopped, her mouth gaping.
“Wow, Harry. This place looks fantastic!” She spun in a
circle, taking in all the details. I had forgotten she hadn’t seen it in a
while. It really was a dramatic change from just a couple of weeks ago. The
booth cushions were now covered with the fabrics I had chosen. The black granite
counter tops with flecks of gold, that had seemingly appeared like magic overnight
and more than likely had, gleamed. On the lower curved part of the counter
there were four round, retro-looking malt shop style stools, with gleaming
chrome bases and burgundy pleather seats. They were the kind that you could
sit on and spin a full circle like when you were a kid. I had found them
online. I guess they had finally arrived and Morris and the boys had installed
them. Speaking of Morris, I could hear his voice booming in the kitchen at the
back of the shop. He and the boys were busy installing all the top of the line,
professional grade appliances Isaac had ordered for his dream kitchen.
“It does, doesn’t it? Now tell me about the guy from last
night.” I waved her over to a stool.
Tess blushed again. “Oh, you know, just a guy.” She
shrugged. “No big deal.” She avoided making eye contact with me.
“What’s up, Tess? You’ve never been shy about your conquests
before.” Unmated werewolves took sex pretty lightly, looking at it more as meeting
an animal need like eating. By norm standards, they would be considered rather
promiscuous and Tess was no exception. She usually had no problem describing
her latest encounter in great detail.
“It’s just,” Tess fidgeted uncomfortably and then blew out a
sigh. “I’m so jealous of you, Harry. You found your mate, your true mate.
It’s something I’ve always hoped for and you have it and…” Her voice trailed
off with a shrug.
“And I have it and don’t seem to want it,” I finished for
her with a sigh.
“Well,” Tess shrugged again. “Yeah.”
“But what about the part where I’m stuck having sex with the
same person
ad infinitum
?” I threw her words from the other day back at
her.
“But wouldn’t it be worth it? To be with your soul mate?
Besides, you said the sex was incredible.”
“Well, yeah. But maybe the novelty will wear off and then
what? I’m stuck having mediocre sex with Nash for the rest of my life?”
“Ha! For some reason I don’t think the word mediocre is
ever used in the same sentence as sex with Nash.” Tess grinned at me.
I rolled my eyes at her and laughed, shaking my head. “No,
probably not. Frustrating maybe, but never mediocre.”
Tess looked at me, her eyebrow raised in question.
“Frustrating?”
“You’ll never guess what he -”
“Hello?” A male voice called out from the back of the
shop. Startled, Tess and I both jumped to our feet.
“Artie!” Tess smiled and hurried over to the man. “What are
you doing here?”
“Hey Tess, I have a delivery and so I brought it around
to the back. Morris let me in. He told me I’d find Harry Russo here.”
“Hi. I’m Harry,” I said, coming to stand beside Tess.
“Artie, Artie Banks. Pleased to meet you, Harry.” He
reached out his hand to shake mine.
“You said you have a delivery?” I looked at him skeptically.
I didn’t think I had anything else on order.
“Yeah, I didn’t just want to send it with the rest of the
appliances without having a chance to walk you through it first.”
“Wait. You supplied all the appliances?”
Tess nodded. “Artie works for Big Bad Wholesales. They
supply all the pack’s restaurants.”
“No kidding,” I replied. “Did Isaac order the kitchen
appliances through you?”
“He sure did.” Artie bobbed his head in agreement. “But
don’t worry, I gave him the pack discount once I knew it was for you.”
“You did? Oh, well thanks.” I smiled at him. “What’s the
pack discount?”
“Cost plus one percent.” Artie beamed back at me.
“What? How do you make any money?” I looked at him in
surprise. “I appreciate the discount and all, but I don’t want to drive you out
of business.”
“Not to worry, Harry, the one percent covers all my costs and
you get the appliances you want cheap. It’s a win-win.”
“And, don’t forget all the non-pack customers that pay
through the nose,” Tess giggled.
Artie winked conspiratorially. “Well, there’s that too.”
I laughed along with Tess and Artie. “Okay then. So, what
do you have today?”
“Well, I brought a catalogue so you could pick out your
crockery and utensils. We can also print business cards, menus, provide
linens.” He started pulling things from a briefcase I hadn’t noticed before.
“Have you decided on the name yet?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe. I’m still mulling it over
though.” He looked expectantly at me, but I didn’t elaborate because
truthfully, I had nothing. I had no clue what to call the shop.
In the end, with Tess’s help, I picked out plates, coffee
mugs, cappuccino bowls and espresso shot cups. I’d order take out cups and
paper napkins, once I decided on the name. I was really hoping I’d have a
moment of inspiration on that soon.
As a parting gift, Artie had one more surprise up his
sleeve. He disappeared into the kitchen for a minute or two then came back,
assisted by one of the boys, carrying a very large box. A few minutes later, a
shiny, new Gaggia Deco cappuccino/espresso maker sat on my counter top. It was
chrome and burgundy with two serving groups and a cup warmer on top.
Tess whistled. “Wow Harry, it looks pretty snazzy.”
I eyed it skeptically. I had no clue how to use it. Luckily,
Isaac claimed to be an expert on all things coffee. We’d get him to show us
the ropes later after it was all hooked up.
“So try the Deco, I think you’re going to like it, one
of the best commercial brewers around. If it doesn’t work for you, we can swap
it out.” Artie pulled a couple more sheets from his briefcase. “Here are
the coffees we stock. I told Isaac I’d leave a list. I’ve also left you a
couple of different samples of our own house sourced coffee. It’s very good,
totally Columbian.” He gestured to the counter beside the new coffee maker.
There were two large foil packages of coffee beans. The label read “Howling
Moon Coffee Company” and it had a picture of a howling wolf. Cute, but subtle
they weren’t. I looked back at Artie who chuckled. He made a little ‘what can
you do’ gesture with his hands.
“Thanks, Artie. For everything,” I said, shaking his hand
again.
“Not a problem, Harry. Always a pleasure helping out the
pack.” He snapped his briefcase closed and turned to leave. “Oh, and we
should have your crockery order out to you by mid-week.”
“That’s great! Thanks again.” I walked Artie through the
back of the shop and out the delivery entrance to the alley behind the
building. Artie’s minivan was parked beside my pickup truck. I watched him
drive away and was about to head back inside when a movement down the lane drew
my attention. I stared down the alley trying to see into the waning daylight.
The sun was almost set and the lane was cast in shadows.
“Harry?” Isaac stood in the doorway, his gaze following
mine.
“Hey, Isaac.”
“Everything okay, Harry?” Isaac asked, stepping out to stand
beside me.
“Yeah sure, I just thought I saw someone in the lane.” I
shook my head and then shrugged. “I guess not.” I turned towards the building
and Isaac. “So, did you check out the new coffee maker?”
Isaac’s smile almost burst right off his face. I’d take
that as a yes.
A short while later, Tess disappeared upstairs to our
apartment while I remained behind and sat watching Isaac play with his new
coffee maker. Together with Morris, the two of them had managed to get it all
hooked up. A quick trip upstairs for milk and some mugs and we were a few
minutes shy of trying the shop’s first cappuccinos.
My phone chirped. I stepped away from the impatient group
of men - the boys had finished in the kitchen and come out to join Morris and
Isaac - as they stood waiting for the water to reach optimum coffee brewing
temperature.
I smiled at my phone. It was Nash.
hospital>
Nash’s reply made me burst out laughing. Isaac threw me a
questioning glance but I waved him off, pointing at my phone.
thinking of how Tess and I sat on the edge of his hospital bed eating subs.
…Pick you up in 20?>
Minetti’s was a Riverton institution. A mom-and-pop joint
that opened shortly after the turn of the last century, it had been run by a
member of the extended Minetti family ever since. It didn’t matter who was
running the place, there always seemed to be a Mama Minetti. My generation’s
incarnation was Clara. A stereotypical Italian
nonna
, standing five
foot nothing with snow white hair and a time-worn face, she was inevitably in a
flower print dress and white bib-front apron. Nonna Clara, as she liked to be
called, had a mind like a steel trap. If you were in her good books, you got a
pinch on the cheek. Find yourself in her bad books and she had no problem
giving you a slap upside the head, all while praying in Italian to the saints
above for your salvation. She added real character to the place, let me tell
you.
Of course, Nash, being the lady-killer that he was, earned
not only the customary pinch on the cheek but a ‘come to Nonna’ hug. I, on the
other hand, got the Nonna stink eye. She grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks
with her gnarled, arthritic hand and gave me the once over.
“Too skinny,” she declared giving my waist a poke with a
bony finger. “How you gonna to keep up with
un ragazzo sano
like my
Cian with no-a meat on-a your bones?”
Nash hid a smile behind his hand and I glared at him, but
Nonna wasn’t done with me yet.
“Angelo!” she bellowed for her son, loud enough for the
entire restaurant to hear. “Angelo, you give-a
la bella ragazza
dessert. On the house. She too skinny.” She patted my now flaming red cheek
and took my hand and placed it in Nash’s. “
Il mio ragazzo
, you take her
and make-a sure she-a eats-a.”
“Of course, Nonna, I will.” Nash kept a straight face as he
bent down to give the little woman a peck on the cheek.
Thankfully, Alberto, Nonna’s grandson, arrived to show us to
our table. As we walked into the dining room, Nash leaned in and gave my bottom
a little pat. “Don’t listen to Nonna. You’ve got nice curves. You’re perfect
just the way you are, little minx.”
I snorted a thanks, but on the inside, my heart went
pitty-pat. I was so distracted that at first I didn’t notice that Alberto was
leading us into the newer section of the restaurant.
“Oh! Hey, Alberto, can we get a table back in the older
dining room?” I gave him my most charming smile.
“No, sorry, we’re all full up. Got a big reservation coming
in.” He looked at me expectantly.
“Okay. No problem.” I gave a little shrug.
“Is something wrong?” Nash looked at me in concern.
“No, it’s fine. I just prefer the old part of the
restaurant.”
We got seated at our table and I looked around, breathing a
sigh of relief. Okay, maybe there really wouldn’t be a problem. Minetti’s had
expanded over the years, growing out of its small, original space to occupy the
adjacent building as well. They had done a wonderful job incorporating the old
with the new. The only problem was that the new space had once upon a time been
a migrant sweat shop, probably back in the late 1800s when things like employee
health and workplace safety weren’t high on the list. As a result, the new
section of Minetti’s tended to house an unusual assortment of spectral
visitors. I had met them all at one time or another. Several were rather
innocuous, simply trying to live vicariously by watching the restaurant’s
patrons eat. One, a man named Olivier – he never gave me his last name,
likened himself to a food critic, judging the plates on presentation and speed
at which the diner cleaned it off. Another, I called Pacing Patty, lived up to
her name, never saying a word, simply pacing back and forth across the dining
room, biting her nails.
The worst was Shriek. Clearly emaciated in life, he spent
his ghostly years pacing around the dining room, stopping to yell at the top of
his lungs into the faces of the dining patrons. They of course, could not hear
his blood curdling screams. It was a different story for me. Luckily, he
didn’t seem to be around today.
“Are you okay?” Nash reached across the table and took my
hand.
“You might not want to do that,” I replied quickly, trying
to pull my hand back.
“Why not?” Nash held my fingers tight in his grasp. He
looked around the room carefully, starting in surprise when Olivier popped his
head up through an adjacent table.
“The marinara looks a little runny,” the ghost said, shaking
his head with a ‘tsk’. “I’d stay away from it today if I were you.”
“Shit!” Nash pushed my hand away in surprise and then gave
his head a little shake. He reached for my hand again. Olivier winked at
him. “Holy crap. Who’s that guy?”
“That’s Olivier,” I replied nonchalantly. “He thinks he’s a
food critic.” Olivier raised his nose in the air with disdain and popped out of
sight again.
“Wow, are there more?” Nash scanned the dining area again,
his fingers locked on mine.
I shrugged. “They come and go. This section of the
restaurant is the worst. It used to be a sweat shop.”
Nash nodded his head as understanding became clear.
“Oh…ohhhhhh.” He frowned. “Is this okay? Do you want to leave?”
“What? And risk getting on Nonna’s bad side?” I shook my
head. “No thanks.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Besides, it’s nothing new
for me.”
Nash gave my hand another little comforting squeeze. “Well,
let me know if something, or rather someone, starts to bother you.” He pulled
his hand away just as Alberto arrived with our antipasto platter - slices of
provolone, strips of roasted red pepper, olives, bocconcini, thinly sliced
prosciutto and salami, served with two thick slabs of bread. Yum. Good thing
I had a high metabolism.
***
No one else made an appearance, at least not through the
main course. Nash had finally got his meatball sub and he laughed when I told
him about Tess and our lunchtime picnic in his room. Since I’d already had my
sub fix the other day, I indulged in my other Minetti’s favourite, the
Spaghetti Carbonara. Made with pancetta
and
crispy bits of bacon,
parmigiano and pecorino, it was enough to make your eyes roll back in your head
with pleasure. Nash watched me eat the first few mouthfuls with a heated look
of appreciation on his face and then he growled and tore his eyes away.
“What?” I asked him innocently.
“If you make that happy little mewing sound one more time,
or lick your lips like that again, I don’t think I can be held responsible for
my actions.” He gave me a lascivious look.
“What’s the matter, Nash? Feeling a little wound up after
this morning?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.
He laughed and then turned a heated gaze on me. His
nostrils flared and he gave me an appraising look. With a little nod of
satisfaction, he replied, “I see you read my note.” He smiled smugly.
My mouth gaped in mock outrage. “Oh yeah, I saw your
note.” I scowled at him. “Just who do you…”
“EEEEEEEEEYAAAHHHHHH!”
I flinched back as the Shriek made his appearance. His face
was right in mine, his translucent body hovering half in, half out of the table
in front of me.
“Dammit, Shriek. Take a hike.”
“What’s the matter, Harry?” Nash reached for my hand.
“You might not want to….” Too late. Nash’s fingers twined
with mine just as Shriek turned to face him.
“EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” He screeched at Nash, his eyes
bugging out.
Nash threw his head back, his hand instinctively going to
his belt where his gun would normally be if he had been wearing it. He had
dropped contact with my hand and so could no longer see Shriek.
“Shit, Harry. How can you stand it?” He looked at me
incredulously.
I shrugged. “You kind of get used to it. Not ones like
Shriek, but the others. I’ve never seen the world differently.” I flinched
again as Shriek, who had moved on to the patrons at the next table, let loose
another long, high-pitched scream. As we quickly finished up our meal, I
added, “Maybe we could get dessert to go?” Nash nodded and waved down Alberto.
I excused myself and headed to the ladies room.
***
I was at the sink washing my hands when my hackles rose, or
they would have, if I was a wolf. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with
werewolves. At any rate, my whole body suddenly felt on alert.
I looked up in the mirror to see a woman, tall and blonde, approaching
me. I turned to face her, a puzzled look on my face. She looked so familiar,
but I couldn’t place her.
When she realized that I had noticed her, she turned a
plastic smile on me. “Harry,” she cooed. “I thought that was you I smelled.”
She wrinkled her nose and then made a show of checking to make sure the room
was empty except for us. “Vampires just reek, don’t you know,” she stage
whispered.
“I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. Should I know
you?” I gave her a cold stare.
“I’m Melissa.” She raised a haughty chin in the air. “And no,
you wouldn’t know me. I don’t slum and hang out with bloodsuckers, but I know
you.” She all but snarled at me and that’s when I remembered where I had seen
her. It was at the Lodge. She had been having a little catfight with a tiny
brunette over the privilege of talking with Nash.
“Oh, I remember you. You’re the tall blonde from the Lodge
whose clothes were too small. Did you gain weight or something recently? I
heard that can be a problem with women approaching menopause.”
“Why you…” She reached out as if to claw my eyes. I flicked
my hand and stopped her arms in midair. I’d had plenty of opportunity to
practice my telekinesis in the last week so she was no match for the invisible
bonds I wrapped around her wrists, holding her in place. Her eyes widened and
she struggled helplessly. Her nostrils flared and a look of devastation
flashed over her face. “So it
is
true. He really did mark you? A
dirty mongrel vampire?” She backed away, shaking her head in denial and I
released her, letting her retreat towards the door.
I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s true. So sad for you, but really,
you didn’t stand a chance.”
“Shut up you filthy cow!” She stamped a foot like a
toddler throwing a trantrum. She turned back to me, her face twisted with
rage. She looked at me through narrowed eyes. “I’d watch your back if I were
you. The mate bond may be for life, but it doesn’t necessarily survive through
death.” She sneered at me. “Do you really think that someone like Cian, a
werewolf, would be happy with a half-breed, bloodsucker like you? He deserves
more. He deserves to be with one of his own kind.” With another snarl, she
turned on her four-inch stilettos and stalked out of the room.