I gripped my knives a little tighter. “And what’s to stop me from cutting you down right here, right now?”
He glanced around. “Well, all of these nice folks, for one thing. You wouldn’t want to ruin their meals, would you?”
He was right. More than two dozen people were in the restaurant, chowing down on their barbecue and side dishes. They hadn’t come here to witness a murder, and I wasn’t about to subject them to that, especially not Elissa, after what she’d just been through. No matter how badly I wanted to kill Tucker.
“Plus,” he continued, “I have someone stationed outside the restaurant with a gun aimed right at you. Just for some added insurance.”
I glanced out through the storefront windows. I didn’t see anyone lurking on the sidewalk, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, maybe sitting in a car at the curb. Not that a gun would do them much good outside, since the windows were bulletproof. But if a fight broke out inside the restaurant and my customers started fleeing out the front door, the shooter could always decide to target them instead of me. So as much as I hated it, I had to play along with Tucker. Besides, I thought that I knew exactly why he was here, and part of me wanted to see if I was right.
“Fine,” I snapped. “What do you want?”
He tilted his head at an empty booth in the back corner of the restaurant. “Why don’t we go over there and discuss it? Away from prying eyes and ears?”
He looked at Silvio, who shrugged back at him. Thanks to his own enhanced vampiric senses, my assistant would still be able to hear our conversation no matter how softly Tucker talked.
“Lead the way,” I said.
“So you can stab me in the back with one of your knives?” Tucker laughed. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you put those away so we can have a civilized conversation like normal people? And I do hope you know that it’s not a request.”
He gestured with his hand, and I had no choice but to slide my knives back up my sleeves, step out from behind the cash register, and head over to the booth. I started to sit down, but Tucker called out behind me.
“Other side, please. I prefer to sit with my back against the wall. Plus, I wouldn’t want Ms. Deveraux getting any bright ideas about sneaking up behind me and whacking me on the head with her lovely skillet.”
I ground my teeth. That had been exactly what I was hoping would happen, but I glanced over my shoulder at Sophia and shook my head, telling her and Silvio to stand down. Sophia went back to her cooking, while Silvio sat back down on his stool. Mosley relaxed a bit too, although he kept glancing in this direction.
Once I was sure that my friends were going to hold their positions, I did as Tucker had commanded and sat down in the booth. He unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket and slid into the opposite side.
He stared at me, and I looked right back at him. His gaze focused on my hair, once again its usual dark brown color and pulled back into a ponytail.
“You dyed your hair back already.”
“You sound disappointed. Why? Because I don’t look quite as much like my mother anymore? You should be careful about dwelling on the past, Tuck. One day you might wake up and be just like Bruce Porter.”
He arched his eyebrows, but he didn’t respond to my taunt.
I leaned forward and fixed my cold gray gaze on his inscrutable black one. “Actually, I’m glad that you came by today.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“Because I have something that belongs to you.”
I started to drop my hand down under the table, but Tucker waggled his finger at me. “Ah-ah,” he warned. “Slowly, Gin. Slowly.”
I rolled my eyes, but I did as he asked. With slow, exaggerated movements, I reached into my jeans pocket, pulled something out, and set it on the table between us.
The gold tube of Heartbreaker lipstick glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the storefront windows.
Tucker stared at the lipstick a moment, then arched his eyebrows again. “And why would you think that belongs to me? I am many things, Gin, but I am not into women’s makeup.”
I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Because you set this whole thing up, you sneaky son of a bitch.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I snorted. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
Tucker crossed his arms over his own chest, mimicking my hostile posture. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“I’ll readily admit that I have the world’s worst luck,” I said. “But I thought that it was a very strange coincidence that I found a woman’s body at Northern Aggression the very same night that I went there looking for a missing girl. I really should have known by now that there are no coincidences. Especially where you’re concerned.”
Tucker kept staring at me.
“You see, I heard that little chat you had with Damian Rivera in his office several nights ago. You were telling him to clean up his mess—or else—but you weren’t talking about Rivera’s habitual drunkenness and DUIs, were you? You were talking about the fact that Bruce Porter was a serial killer and the police had discovered a pattern to all these pretty blond girls being murdered and dumped all over Ashland. Care to tell me which one of the cops on your payroll tipped you off about the Dollmaker investigation?”
Tucker didn’t say anything, and his face remained as impassive as ever, so I continued.
“But you knew that I was there and that I was listening to every single word that you and Rivera said, since I’d left the window open on my way out of the office. Given your freaky vampire senses, you probably heard me out on the roof too. And Rivera royally pissed you off when he mocked you about being reduced to the Circle’s errand boy. But Rivera was right about how powerless you were compared with him. You couldn’t act against Rivera yourself. Not openly. Not without the rest of the Circle’s approval. So you decided to use me to do your damn dirty work for you.”
My accusation hung in the air between us like a storm cloud crackling with lightning, and I could almost see the wheels turning in Tucker’s mind as he debated how to respond.
“While I’m highly flattered that you think that I’m some sort of genius criminal mastermind, I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Gin.” Tucker tapped his fingers on the table. “I certainly didn’t tell Bruce Porter to kidnap and murder all those poor women.”
“No,” I said. “But you were the one who drew my spider runes on the dead girl Porter dumped at Northern Aggression.”