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 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 happened to Troy.
Just like I was haunted by what 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.