Poison Promise
Page 37

“You know, there are millions of dollars’ worth of drugs in these right now,” I said. “It would be a big win for you, Bria, turning all this stuff over to the police.”
“Oh, yeah,” Finn said. “You’d totally get a promotion out of it. Maybe two.”
Bria smiled at his efforts to cheer her up, but the expression quickly slipped from her face.
“Benson cared more about all of this than he did anything else,” she murmured, reaching out and snagging a plastic bag of red Burn pills from inside one of the refrigerators. “He murdered Max and Troy and was willing to do whatever was necessary to kill Catalina. And for what? This?”
She shook the bag, making the pills rattle around inside, before tossing it back into the refrigerator. “No matter how long I’m a cop, and all the bad things that I see, sometimes I think that I will never truly understand people.”
I shrugged. “Benson was a monster. No one is arguing that.”
Bria looked at me, her eyes dark and haunted. “But I was a monster too. Because I was willing to risk Catalina to get to all of this. No matter how dangerous it was to her or anyone else. And I did risk you, and I almost lost you. I won’t make that mistake again, Gin. I promise you that.”
She held out her hand, and I took it and squeezed it.
“I know,” I said, my voice rough with emotion.
Finn cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt the sister-bonding moment, but we need to do something with all of this. If we don’t, this place will be looted and picked clean. Not that I blame the folks outside. I’d be eager to come in here and get my fair share of loot too, after Benson had put the squeeze on me for so many years. So what do you want to do with it?”
“Let’s burn it all,” Bria said. “I know it goes against procedure, but these drugs are dangerous, and I want them all destroyed, right here, right now. Not locked up in evidence where some dirty cops can and probably will get their hands on them and put them right back out on the streets. What do you say, Gin?”
“Burning it is fine with me.” I pointed to the chair in the middle of the lab. “As long as we start with that.”
29
After taking Silvio over to the riverboat so he could be reunited with Catalina and healed by Jo-Jo, Xavier, Phillip, and Owen returned to the mansion. They appeared just in time to help me, Finn, and Bria carry Benson’s stash of drugs outside and throw them onto the front lawn.
Most of the crowd from earlier had drifted away, although a few folks hung out on the corners across the street, checking their phones and waiting for us to leave so they could enter Benson’s mansion. A brutal fight, a bloody death, and an afternoon of looting and larceny. Just another day in Southtown.
I dumped the last bags of Burn pills out of a cardboard box I’d grabbed from the lab, then stepped back to admire our handiwork.
The torture chair sat in the middle of the pile, although you could hardly see the white cushions now for all the plastic bags we’d piled on top of it. Phillip had nosed around and found a can of gasoline somewhere in the mansion, which he sloshed all over everything. I’d grabbed a bag of matches out of the supplies in Finn’s duffel bag, and I handed the box to Bria.
“Why don’t you do the honors?”
“With pleasure,” she murmured.
Bria plucked a match out of the box and struck it against the side. She stared at the flickering fire a moment.
“For Max,” she whispered, then tossed the match into the center of the pile.
WHOOSH!
And just like that, what was left of Beauregard Benson’s empire went up in flames.
•
The guys went back into the mansion to check and make sure we’d found all the drugs, but Bria and I stayed on the lawn. We’d been watching the drugs burn for about ten minutes when I noticed the vehicle—a black Audi with tinted windows.
I was really starting to hate the sight of that car.
It was parked on the street about fifty feet away from the entrance to the mansion, giving the occupants a clear view of me, Bria, and our bonfire of drugs. I knew exactly who was inside. I had known ever since I’d seen the name of Benson’s Burn supplier in his ledger last night on the riverboat.
I also knew that my enemy would come find me soon enough. She’d be too curious not to.
So I stood by Bria’s side and kept an eye on the car until the occupants got bored and drove off. I waited a few minutes, but they didn’t circle back around, and I realized that my friends and family were safe.
At least, for today.
•
But my relief was short-lived. About five minutes after the Audi left, sirens started wailing in the distance. I looked out over the river and spotted a couple of cop cars headed in this direction, their blue-and-white lights flashing as they crossed the closest bridge.
The others heard the noise too, and we all gathered around the bonfire, which was still going strong.
Finn picked up his duffel bag of loot and slung it over his shoulder. “Well, I would say that’s our official cue to leave. I’ll go get the car. Fellas?”
Owen and Phillip moved off with him. That left me standing with Bria and Xavier.
“How are you going to explain things this time around?” I asked.
Bria and Xavier exchanged a look, and then my sister shrugged.
“Probably that we got a tip about a drug war gone wrong between Benson and some unknown assailant. We were first on the scene and found Benson dead in the street and all his merchandise going up in flames.”
“You think that will work? You don’t think someone in the crowd will rat me out?”
Bria and Xavier exchanged another look.
“Nobody talks in Southtown,” they said in unison.
They both laughed a little, and then my sister turned to me.
“Nobody’s going to testify against you, Gin,” she said. “Not after what they saw you do to Benson.”
I grimaced, but she was right. And I realized that in a way, I’d become just like the drug kingpin. I didn’t know how I felt about that—or what the consequences of my actions here today would be.
Finn pulled his Aston Martin up to the entrance and beeped the horn. The wail of the sirens grew louder as the cop cars crossed the bridge.
“Go,” Xavier rumbled. “We’ve got your back.”
“Always,” Bria added.
I flashed them both a grateful smile, then jogged over to Finn, Phillip, Owen, and our getaway car.
•
News of Beauregard Benson’s death consumed the newspapers and airwaves for the next few days. Story after story was reported about the vampire’s death and the destruction of his mansion, which was looted and burned to the ground the night I killed him.
The police spun it as a drug war gone wrong, but Bria was right. No one who’d witnessed my fight to the death with Benson stepped forward to contradict the cops’ theory, although Finn told me that word of what I’d done to the vampire had already spread like wildfire through the underworld. Apparently, all the other crime bosses were on high alert, thinking that I was going to come after them next. Which meant that they would no doubt be sending more and more people to try to kill me first. So I’d solved one problem and created about a dozen more for myself, the way I always did.
But I wasn’t worried about the criminals as much as I was curious about how Benson’s Burn supplier was handling the news of his death. I imagined that she was rather pleased with it. Not that I would normally do anything that would ever please her, but Benson hadn’t given me a choice. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like my strings had been pulled and that I would have been forced into some sort of confrontation with the vampire sooner or later, even if Catalina hadn’t witnessed Troy’s murder. But all I could do was wait and see if my theory would turn out to be correct.
So life slowly went back to normal, and I returned to my regular duties at the Pork Pit.
Three days after I’d killed Benson, I was wiping down the counter next to the cash register when the bell over the front door chimed, and a familiar figure strolled inside: Silvio.
I hadn’t seen or talked to him since Xavier, Owen, and Phillip had whisked him away to the Delta Queen to be healed by Jo-Jo, although I’d heard from Phillip that Silvio had been staying on board the riverboat the past few days, getting his strength back. But he looked as cool and collected as ever, in an elegant gray suit and matching shirt and tie. His hair was slicked back into its usual style, and his face and body had filled out again, thanks to all the food I’d been sending over to the riverboat, much to the consternation of Phillip’s chef, Gustav.
Silvio looked around the restaurant, staring at the other customers, before smoothing down his tie and heading over to me. He gestured at the stool closest to the cash register.
“May I?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “Knock yourself out.”
He took a seat. Catalina pushed through the double doors, coming out of the back of the restaurant after taking a break. This was her first day back working her regular shift. When she’d come in at noon, I’d told her that she could take as much time off as she needed, but Catalina had insisted on staying. She said returning to her routine would help her deal with things. I couldn’t argue with that, since I was doing the same thing myself. Trying to lose myself in the rhythms of cooking and running the restaurant instead of thinking about what Benson had done to me.
I just hoped that Catalina’s recovery wouldn’t be as slow as mine.
Catalina’s face lit up at the sight of her uncle. She came around the counter and kissed his cheek. Silvio gave her a light, affectionate pat on the shoulder. Catalina grinned at him before moving around the restaurant, seeing to the needs of the other customers. Silvio watched her seat a couple and hand them a pair of menus before turning back to face me. His gray gaze swept over me, lingering on my blue work apron and the sparkly pig pin that I’d hooked on to it.
“You are looking quite well, Gin,” he said. “All things considered.”
“So are you, Silvio.”
He smoothed down his tie again, which no longer had Benson’s rune tacked into the middle of it.
“Yes, well, your friend Ms. Deveraux took excellent care of me.”
I nodded. “She always does that.”
“I want you to know that I offered to compensate her for her services, but she wouldn’t take my money,” he said, frowning a little, as though the thought distressed him.
Jo-Jo had told me all about Silvio’s repeated attempts to pay her for healing him. Even I had been impressed by the dollar amount he’d quoted her. It seemed that Silvio had been saving up for a rainy day, to have that kind of cash stashed away. Then again, he’d worked for Benson. I would have been saving up for a long time too.
I waved my hand. “Don’t worry about Jo-Jo. She actually likes patching people up. Besides, she’s on my payroll. It’s all been taken care of.”
He nodded. “I thought as much.”
Catalina came back over, and Silvio stopped her and ordered some food. I’d thought that perhaps he’d simply come to check up on his niece, but it looked like he was actually going to eat. Or perhaps he was just biding his time and working up to whatever he really wanted to talk to me about. Either way, I decided to let him stay. He could still use a few more pounds on his lean figure, and one of the Pork Pit’s triple chocolate milkshakes was a great way to get started on that.
Sophia fixed Silvio’s food, and Catalina set the plates in front of him, which included a grilled cheese sandwich and side orders of onion rings, potato salad, and fried green tomatoes. He washed it all down with the milkshake I made him, and then I gave him a piece of cherry pie topped with vanilla-bean ice cream for dessert, but he merely nibbled on that, claiming that he was full.
In between waiting on the other customers, Catalina chatted with her uncle, laughing and joking with him and me too. With Benson no longer a threat, she seemed to be back to her usual cheerful self, although the darkness in her eyes told me that she was still haunted by what had happened to Troy.
Just like I was haunted by what had happened to Coral all those years ago. But I’d learned to live with my pain, memories, and regrets, and I hoped that Catalina would too.
Eventually, though, Catalina’s shift ended, and she packed up her things to go to class. She kissed Silvio’s cheek, waved good-bye to me, and left the restaurant, making the bell on the front door chime on her way out.
“She always told me how much she enjoyed working here,” Silvio murmured. “But I never really believed her.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I wanted better things for her than working in some greasy dive.”
I arched my eyebrows. “No offense taken.”
“I meant none.”
“And now?”
He shrugged again. “I can see the charm of your establishment.”
“Thanks,” I drawled. “But don’t go overboard with the compliments. They might go to my head or something.”
Silvio arched an eyebrow back at me, then carefully, politely, thoughtfully, stacked his dirty dishes on top of each other and moved them off to the side on the counter.
He’d brought a silverstone briefcase into the restaurant, which he’d set on the stool next to him. He popped open the top and pulled out an electronic tablet.
“So,” he said, staring up at me expectantly, his finger poised over the screen. “Where shall we begin in organizing your schedule?”
I blinked. “My schedule? What schedule?”
He tapped at something on the tablet, then turned it around where I could see it. The image on the screen looked suspiciously like . . . a calendar. The sort that a businessman might use to keep track of meetings, lunches, and whatnot.