Black Widow

by Jennifer Estep

  Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was referring to Beauregard Benson. A few weeks ago, I’d gone to the vampire’s Southtown mansion and bashed in his prize Bentley with one of Owen’s blacksmith hammers before daring Benson himself to fight me. Our battle had ended with Benson bleeding out in the middle of the street after I’d plunged one of my knives into his rotten heart. Nothing special there, except that a group of gangbangers, vampire hookers, their pimps, homeless bums, and other folks who called Southtown home had gathered around to watch our fight. It was definitely the most public of my many crimes, but so far no one had squealed to the cops about it. But it looked like my luck had just run out on that count.

  So no, this wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was still troublesome. As an assassin, as the Spider, I was used to attacking my enemies from the shadows and then slipping away into the darkness, leaving no trail behind for anyone to follow. But I hadn’t done that with Benson, for many reasons, and now it seemed like it was coming back around to bite me in the ass.

  I looked past Dobson at my real enemies. Emery seemed almost happy, or what I assumed passed for it with her, since her expression wasn’t as dark and dour as usual. Why, that almost looked like the beginnings of a smile on her face. And Madeline was positively beaming, her green eyes sparkling with obvious delight at my impending misery and ultimate doom.

  I stared at her a second longer, fixing her smug smile in my mind. I was going to enjoy slapping that smirk off her face when this was all said and done. But for now, there was nothing to do but face the music—and figure out how I could get myself out of this mess.

  I slid off my stool and got to my feet.

  “And why would I be wanted for murder?” I asked, answering the giant’s accusation, careful to keep my voice calm and neutral. “I’m just a simple business owner, trying to get by, the same as everyone else.”

  Dobson smiled, revealing slightly crooked, too-white teeth. “Because you’re the one who committed it, Ms. Blanco. Someone’s missing, and you murdered her just as sure as I’m standing here.”

  A collective gasp rippled through the Pork Pit at his words, but I kept my features blank, as though nothing were out of the ordinary and I hadn’t just been accused of murder in my own gin joint. But my mind churned and churned, focusing on the most important word the captain had said—her. Which indicated this wasn’t about Benson at all, but rather a woman. But who?

  “Really?” I said. “And who says that I murdered someone?”

  Dobson waved his hand. “Oh, that’s not important right now. But rest assured that we have a witness to your crime.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.”

  His cold brown eyes sharpened. “And what do you mean by that?”

  I shrugged, then gave him my best, widest, most innocent and shit-eating grin. “Because nobody talks in Southtown.”

  More than a few chuckles rippled through the storefront, with Finn, of course, laughing the loudest and longest. Dobson glared at the customers who had dared to be amused by my quip, and the chuckles quickly died down. Suddenly, everyone was very interested in their food again, instead of the drama unfolding at the cash register.

  Dobson unbuttoned his navy suit jacket and drew back the fabric, planting his hands on his hips. More than anything else, the gesture was meant to reveal the gun holstered to his black leather belt, a clear warning that he would shoot me at the slightest provocation, including any more mockery of him. But the motion also made his jacket sleeve ride up, revealing a platinum watch set with diamonds on his wrist. A cute little trinket. I wondered if that had been part of his payoff from Madeline for coming in here and accusing me of murder.

  “Nice watch,” Finn drawled, echoing my thoughts. “Especially on a captain’s salary.”

  A flush swept up Dobson’s thick neck, cranking up the color in his cheeks to fire-engine red. A few more titters of laughter sounded. Everyone in Ashland knew that the majority of the cops were even more crooked than the city’s criminals. I looked past the giant at the two uniformed officers and the woman with the clipboard. None of them were wearing any obvious, expensive bling like their boss was, but all three of them started shifting on their feet. Guilt by association.

  “I don’t care for your insinuations, Ms. Blanco,” Dobson snapped. “I work for the good people of Ashland. The ones that you’ve been menacing, terrorizing, and murdering for years.”

  Well, he had one out of three right.

  “And you haven’t been doing a very good job of it, now have you?” I said, my voice deceptively sweet and light. “If I’ve been doing all of that for all these years, like you claim. Seems like someone’s been slacking off on his job, the one that the good people of Ashland pay him to do. Apparently very well, judging from that watch on your wrist, just like my foster brother said. Who knew that being a civil servant could be so very rewarding?”

  More snickers sounded, making Dobson’s face burn even redder than before. I half expected a whistle to sound and for steam to start shooting out of his ears, like it would with a cartoon character, but of course that didn’t happen. After a few seconds, Dobson reined in his temper, and some of the angry flush faded from his face, although his brown eyes iced over that much more.

  “Regardless of your charming opinions, you need to come with me,” he barked. “I have a few questions to ask you down at the station.”

  He gestured at the uniformed officers. The two of them, a man and a woman, exchanged an uneasy look behind Dobson’s back. They didn’t want to get anywhere near me, not with my reputation. Smart folks. But they were more afraid of their captain than they were of me, because he turned and gave them a pointed glare, and they finally shuffled forward, the woman reaching for the handcuffs attached to her thick, black utility belt.

  “Don’t bother,” I told her. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I know my rights, and unless you have a warrant for my arrest, then I’m staying right here in my restaurant where I belong.”

  “That’s not an option,” Dobson growled. “You’re coming with us, and that’s final, Ms. Blanco.”

  “Forget it,” I snapped right back at him. “Especially since you still haven’t told me who I supposedly murdered.”

  His lips turned up into a smile. “Why, I thought you’d never ask. Her name is Shanna Bannister.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket, drew out his phone, and tapped on it. He turned the screen around so I could see the image he’d pulled up on it—a photo of the redheaded woman I’d killed in the storefront this morning.

  In the image, Shanna Bannister was wearing a white shirt with black pants, and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. It was the same sort of outfit she’d had on when she attacked me, but her clothes and the stiff way she was standing reminded me of something, some sort of uniform . . .

  And I suddenly realized exactly who she was—the maid I’d seen serving lemonade to Madeline, Emery, and Jonah yesterday at the Monroe mansion.

  For whatever reason, the redheaded maid had come in here and tried to kill me. No doubt Madeline had arranged the whole thing, either by threatening Shanna in some way or promising her a rich payday if she succeeded in murdering me. But Madeline had also realized that I would more than likely take out the other woman instead, and now the acid elemental was going to trap me with my own survival. Clever.

  “Recognize her?” Dobson asked. “Her employer reported her missing when she didn’t show up for work today.”

  Despite the gears grinding in my mind at this revelation, I kept my face calm, stared at him, and arched an eyebrow. “And you immediately jumped to the conclusion that I murdered her?”

  “Shanna Bannister was seen entering your restaurant this morning. And she never came back out.” A thin smile twisted Dobson’s face. “Given your reputation, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

  A couple of the customers gasped, but most of them started nodding their heads and muttering to each other. Everyone in the u
nderworld knew that I was the Spider, but they weren’t the only ones. All of my staff had gotten wind of the rumors too, and the few customers who hadn’t heard the whispers hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Now, don’t make me call the rest of my men in here to cart you out,” Dobson said. “Save yourself that much embarrassment.”

  He gestured at the windows. I hadn’t noticed before, but four cop cars were parked on the street outside, with six more uniformed officers waiting on the sidewalk. All of the cops stared in through the glass at me, their hands on their guns, ready to storm inside and strong-arm me out of here, should I do something supremely satisfying but ultimately stupid, like cut Dobson’s throat where he stood.

  But if I went outside and got into one of those cop cars, I wouldn’t ever get back out again. I knew it instinctively, the same way I knew Madeline had set this whole thing up. She hadn’t cared an iota about her maid, and when the woman hadn’t been able to kill me, Madeline had decided that having me arrested for murder would be a fun way to torture me before I died. If this hadn’t been her plan all along.

  If I went with the cops, no doubt good ole Captain Lou Dobson would put a clip full of bullets in my chest on the way to the police station, claiming that I’d tried to escape. Then I would be dead and disgraced, and Madeline could get on with her plans for the Ashland underworld, whatever they might be.

  “Don’t make this any harder on yourself, Blanco,” Dobson barked. “You can come along quietly . . .”

  He didn’t add or else. He didn’t have to.

  “If you so much as flap your hand at me again, I’m calling my lawyer and suing your sorry ass for harassment,” I snapped.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Then you better start dialing because you are coming with me—one way or the other.”

  “Actually, Gin doesn’t have to call anyone,” Silvio piped up. “I’m her lawyer, and I’m right here.”

  The lean vampire hopped off his stool and moved to the end of the counter, so that he was standing beside me. With his gray suit and stiff posture, he did seem like a lawyer, right down to the superior look he shot Dobson. The giant loomed over Silvio, as though he wanted to punch the shorter man, but in the end he drew back, restraining himself, although I could see what an obvious effort it was.

  Silvio glanced at me, and I raised my eyebrows in a silent question. He shrugged. I didn’t know if he was a lawyer or not, but he was willing to play the part for Dobson. My new assistant was definitely getting a raise—should I live through this.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Madeline frowning. Apparently, she’d thought that Dobson could cart me off and murder me with no problems. She hadn’t factored Silvio into her crafty calculations.

  “Well, now that that’s settled, I suggest you get the hell out of my restaurant,” I said, my voice as cold as a winter night. “Before I sue you, the department, and anyone else who strikes my fancy right now.”

  Dobson turned his head, as though he was going to look over his shoulder at Madeline and Emery for guidance, but he noticed me watching and caught himself. He snapped back to face me, although he took several seconds to tuck his phone away, button his suit jacket, and calm down, thinking about how to handle the situation. But apparently, he had another ace up his sleeve, because a pleased smile spread across his face.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Ms. Blanco,” Dobson said, a cheery note in his low, gravelly tone. “Because in addition to my questions, Ms. Winona Wright here is one of the chief inspectors with the Ashland Health Department, and she’s had some disturbing complaints about your restaurant.”

  He gestured, and the woman with the clipboard slowly stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the pig tracks on the floor, instead of looking at me. Obviously she didn’t want to be here. I wondered how Dobson had bribed or bullied her into making an appearance. Didn’t much matter. She was about to cause problems.

  “What sort of complaints?” I asked in an icy tone.

  “Bugs in people’s food, roaches in the storerooms, filthy restrooms, unsafe working conditions . . .” the inspector mumbled, her voice pitching lower and softer with each supposed infraction.

  Finally, she finished, and Dobson fixed his gaze on me. “So, as you can see, Ms. Wright needs to do a full inspection in order to substantiate the validity of these claims,” he crowed, knowing that he had outmaneuvered me.

  Dobson brought his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle that made even Sophia wince. “Come on in, boys!” he called out.

  The cops outside on the street headed toward the front door, and the invasion of the Pork Pit officially began.

  6

  I might not have to go with Dobson to the station for questioning, but there was nothing I could do about the health inspector, who had the legal right to inspect every corner of my restaurant anytime she wanted to.

  Including right now.

  Given the tension, accusations, and hostility in the air, everyone was suddenly eager to push their plates away, pay up, and skedaddle, especially at the thought that there might be bugs in their food and cockroaches crawling around in the corners. Of course, the real roaches were out in the open where everyone could see them—Dobson, Madeline, and Emery—but I’d have a hard time convincing my customers of that.

  So I gave the waitstaff the rest of the day off with pay, stationed Catalina at the cash register, and told her to charge everyone half price as they left, if they were even willing to pay that much for my supposedly tainted food. I wasn’t going to quibble about money today. No, I had far bigger problems to worry about.

  “What do you want me to do?” Owen asked in a low voice, coming over to stand beside me. “Whatever you need, you know I’m here for you, Gin.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing you can do. Go, take care of Eva’s problem at school and the one with your business deal. That’s the best thing you can do for me right now. Madeline’s screwing with us, and I need to know that you guys are safe.”

  Besides, something could always go terribly wrong here, with all the cops with all their guns swarming all over everything, and I wanted the two of them out of the line of fire, should it come to that.

  “Are you sure?” Owen asked. “I can stay. I want to stay.”

  His violet eyes glittered with anger, and he eyed Dobson with open hostility, Owen’s fingers curling into fists over and over, as if he wished that he had one of his blacksmith hammers handy so he could kneecap the giant for me. Owen’s protective stance and obvious care and concern touched me the way it always did—and made me even more determined to get him and Eva out of here before something worse happened.

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll call you later,” he promised. “Just as soon as we’re done at the college.”

  I nodded. Owen wrapped his arms around me, giving me a soft, lingering kiss. I held on to him as tightly as I could, returning his kiss with an even deeper one of my own, trying to let him know how much he meant to me. Finally, we broke apart, and he rested his forehead on mine.

  “Whatever happens, stay safe,” he whispered.

  “Always.”

  I stepped back. Eva came over and hugged me as well.

  “I know you’ll make that bitch pay for all of this,” she whispered in my ear.

  I drew back and winked at her. “Don’t you know it,” I said, sounding far more confident than I felt about actually making that happen.

  But my bright, breezy tone and false bravado worked on Eva, who let out a soft laugh, her face a little less tense than before. Owen put his arm around her, and the two of them left the restaurant. The bell over the front door chimed with a mournful note as they stepped out onto the street and disappeared from sight.

  “What about me?” Finn asked, taking Owen’s place beside me.

  “You need to leave too,” I said. “Go to your bank, and get everything squared away there. Look into the lawsuit, and see what needs to be done about it. L
ike I said, Madeline’s screwing with us. She wants us to react, she wants us to fight back, she wants us to be so pissed off that we do something stupid that gets us into even more trouble. So the best thing we can do right now is to stay calm, play it straight, and follow the rules.”

  Finn sniffed. “Rules are for other people.”

  I gave him a look.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll see if I can figure out what else she might have up her sleeve. Or, at the very least, who else might be on her payroll.”

  “Check into Dobson for me too. I want to know why he’s helping Madeline and exactly how much pull he has in the police department.” A thought occurred to me, and more worry twisted my stomach. “And see if you can get a hold of Bria. There’s no way she wouldn’t have come down here if she knew what Dobson was up to. He must have gotten her out of the way somehow, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  Finn nodded, promised to touch base with me later, and left the Pork Pit.

  The cash register ring-ring-ringed as Catalina calculated order tickets for the long line of customers. With the rest of the waitstaff having already gone out the back, that left me, Silvio, and Sophia with Dobson, Winona Wright, and the other cops in the restaurant.

  Dobson looked at me as if he wanted me to put up more of a fight about the health inspection, probably so he could use my refusal to arrest me on some trumped-up charge. But all I did was give him a cold, flat stare in return. His face fell a little when he realized that I wasn’t going to protest, but he got over his disappointment.

  “Well, then,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, “let’s get started.”

  Dobson marched back to the men’s restroom, yanked open the door, and looked inside. “Filthy,” he pronounced. “Absolutely filthy.”

  I walked up behind him and peered around his broad body. The restroom wasn’t filthy, since I had cleaned it this morning. In fact, nothing was out of place at all, unless you counted the lone, crumpled paper towel that someone had tossed at the trash can. The towel had missed the mark, since it was lying on the floor a foot short of the container.