Unraveled Page 13
We all started working, and by the time eleven o’clock rolled around, several folks were waiting outside the door, stamping their feet to stay warm, more than ready to come inside and get their barbecue on. It must have been too cold for criminal shenanigans today, because most of my customers were just regular folks, eager to chow down on a hot plate of barbecue, along with baked beans, fries, onion rings, coleslaw, and some mac and cheese that I made special because of the chilly weather.
I had a large dish of the mac and cheese for my own lunch. Al dente pasta, sharp white cheddar melted into an ooey, gooey sauce, crushed, toasted butter crackers sprinkled on top for a bit of crunch. It was perfect, warm, hearty comfort food, and I could use all the comforting I could get right now.
The lunch rush came and went with no problems, and the restaurant slowly emptied after that, with only a couple of folks to wait on. Most everyone was staying inside today, not wanting to venture out into the cold any more than they absolutely had to. I knew the feeling. Ever since I’d found out about the Circle, I’d just wanted to stay holed up at Fletcher’s house, curled in bed, with pillows and blankets tucked in all around me, as if that would somehow change everything that Hugh Tucker had told me—and the threat that he and his mysterious group represented to everyone that I cared about.
I’d just finished off the last of my mac and cheese when my phone beeped with a new text message.
Can you come to the bank? Finally ready to let the genie out of the box. F.
My heart lifted, and new, fresh hope surged through me at the message from Finn. It was about time. I’d been waiting on this for days now, and so had he.
I texted him back. Be there in 30 min. G.
I pushed my empty bowl away, got to my feet, and slid my phone into my jeans pocket. Then I turned around and grabbed a large cardboard box from the back counter, along with several take-out containers.
“What was that about?” Silvio asked, watching me scoop mac and cheese into a bowl.
“Oh, just Finn. Apparently, he’s trapped in another crisis-management meeting at the bank and wants me to bring him some food.”
“Mmm-hmm. You know, that would almost be a believable lie except for how happy you sound.”
I glanced at the vampire. “I can’t sound happy when I’m talking about my friends?”
Silvio crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a knowing look. “Not that happy.”
I finished with the mac and cheese and moved on to a pot of baked beans, putting them in a separate container. “You know, Silvio, you’re becoming as paranoid as Finn always says that I am.”
He sighed. “I know. And it’s all your fault. You’ve driven me to it.”
“And how have I done that?”
“Not telling me where you are and what you’re doing. Turning your phone off so I can’t track you. Parking your car in odd locations at all hours of the day and night.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “What exactly were you doing in Southtown at midnight last night?”
“Maybe I was out for a moonlit drive,” I quipped.
“In the ice and cold? I don’t think so. You were up to something, just like you’re always up to something.” He shook his head. “Being your assistant is like trying to wrangle a recalcitrant three-year-old.”
I arched my eyebrows and moved on to a vat of coleslaw. “Wow, I’ve grown up quickly. You said more or less the same thing last week, only I was a stubborn two-year-old then.”
He huffed, not at all amused by my joke, so I decided to tell him the truth. At least, part of it.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I am going to the bank, and I am taking Finn some food.” I held up the container of coleslaw as proof.
“Among other things,” Silvio said, not buying it for a second.
“Among other things,” I agreed.
I finished packing Finn’s food into the cardboard box, then went over to a glass cake stand, grabbed a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie, and placed it on a napkin.
“Here.” I held it out to Silvio as a peace offering. “Cookies make everything better, even grumpy vampire assistants.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Silvio’s gray eyes narrowed, but I smiled in the face of his glare. Finally, he relented, took the cookie from me, and broke off a piece. He popped it in his mouth and sighed again, this time with pleasure.
“Cookies do make everything better,” he muttered, grudgingly agreeing with me. “Even paranoid, secretive assassin bosses.”
I laughed and handed him another cookie.
5
I asked Sophia and Catalina to watch over the restaurant, grabbed the food for Finn, and drove over to First Trust of Ashland.
First Trust was the city’s most exclusive and highfalutin bank, catering to the extremely wealthy, powerful, and dangerous. The seven-story building took up its own block in the heart of downtown, and the gray marble gleamed in the weak winter sun. I left my car in a nearby parking garage, grabbed the box of food, and headed for the main entrance.
A couple of weeks ago, a single giant guard would have been posted outside, casually watching folks hurry by on the sidewalk. But thanks to Deirdre Shaw’s recent and almost successful robbery attempt, security had been dramatically increased, and four guards now flanked the double doors, all keeping a sharp lookout, and all with their hands on the guns holstered to their belts.
I’d brought Finn lunch enough times over the past few weeks that the guards knew who I was, but they still eyed me with suspicion as I approached, and they kept watching as I opened one of the doors and stepped inside. Even then, one of them peered in through the glass, tracking my movements.
The doors opened up into an enormous, elegant lobby that had a light, bright, airy feel. Seams of white swirled through the gray marble floor before snaking up the walls and spreading out onto the ceiling, where they curled around several impressive crystal chandeliers. Dark, heavy antique desks and chairs were clustered together in groups throughout the lobby so that folks could have a bit of privacy as they talked about their finances.