“Drop it off there.”
I’d love nothing more than to set Pete’s car on fire, but I’m committed to Pete’s survival. With some luck, everyone else will survive the night too. I promised Declan I wouldn’t shoot anyone who didn’t threaten my life. Even though it’s a buzzkill not to kill idiots for sport, a promise is a promise.
Pete better behave. I’m hanging on by a thread. Almost came down here in my swim shorts and boots. At the last moment, I returned home and changed, and calmed down a little.
A young woman with long dark hair and dark eyes speaks from behind the glass of the entrance doors. “Sir, we’re closed.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I ask.
She frowns before answering. “Maybe. If you know, then why are you here?”
I open my wallet and pull out a few large bills.
She shakes her head. “I can’t let you in. I need this job, sir. My wife got laid off.”
“Fine.” I drop to one knee and take out a pin. Now, I’ve broken into places before, but I once watched Dina break into her hair salon faster than anyone I’d ever seen. Since I’m competitive, I’ve been practicing with a timer ever since, and the goal is to do it under a minute.
I poke the lock and wait for the click.
Thirty seconds go by.
“What are you doing?” the girl hisses from behind the door. “Get away from there. There are cameras, and my boss is coming.” The girl steps away as an older blonde appears.
Forty-five seconds.
The older woman’s eyes widen, and she fumbles with the keys, drops them.
Fifty-five seconds. I’d better get this before she unlocks it.
My timer pings a minute. “Fuck. I lost.” I throw the pin away, get up, and dust off my pants.
The woman lets me in and locks the door behind me. “Mr. Crossbow, hello. How are you?”
“Never better.” I show her my teeth.
Reluctantly, she smiles back.
“I’m here to speak with Dr. Pete Olton.”
“Pete?”
“Mmhm. Is he here?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder. “I saw his car out front.”
“I didn’t know you knew Pete. He’s a friend of mine. Came in earlier. Sorry about Natalia. She mustn’t have recognized you.”
“I didn’t,” Natalia says, looking flushed. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. She let me practice my lockpicking skills, which are shitty, by the way.”
The women stare.
“Lead the way,” I say.
The waitstaff on the floor are finishing up their side work, refilling the condiments, cleaning the floors, and behind the bar, the bartender runs the cash register. The lights are brighter than usual, I suppose, but not so bright as to leave it feeling like a cheap cafeteria.
Crystal chandeliers reflect the lights. An interior designer once told me the lighting dictates the mood of the entire space.
As we pass through the dining room, the staff whisper and then bolt into the kitchen. They recognized me. This is good. There’s a back door in every kitchen.