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.