I slowed as I noticed the maître d’ standing beside our table, wearing a stern expression. Two waiters, both unusually large in stature, hovered behind him. Nick smirked up at them as I approached, his arm slung carelessly over the back of the booth. “What?” he asked. “No dessert?”
The maître d’ set a leather folio in front of Nick. “Your meal is on the house tonight, courtesy of the owner, with the understanding that you will not return.”
Nick stood, yanking his wallet from his pocket. He dropped a handful of crisp bills on the table. More than enough to cover the meal and a generous tip. “Oh, I’ll definitely be back,” he growled. “Tell the owner dinner was unforgettable.”
He took my coat from the booth and held it open for me. Sliding his hand in mine, he towed me from the restaurant, glaring at Kat’s table as we passed.
“What was that all about?” I asked, handing him back his phone as the door closed behind us.
“That was a message.”
“I thought it was a date.”
He paused in the middle of the parking lot, tugging me gently to a halt. A triumphant smile rode the thin line of his lips. “Was it? I seem to recall you insisting it was only dinner.”
When I didn’t answer, he started purposefully toward his car.
“Who was that woman?”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
I scowled. “Why would I be jealous? Of course I’m not jealous.” Okay, fine. Maybe I was jealous. But only just a little.
Mercifully, he let it go. “That was Zhirov’s star attorney,” he explained, opening the passenger side door of his car and ducking into it before I had the chance. He felt around under the front seat for a box of disposable gloves, peeled two sets from the box, and handed one to me. “If I have a nemesis, I guess you could say Kat is it. This restaurant just opened two weeks ago. I had a feeling it was one of Zhirov’s fronts. Feliks must have heard I was here checking out his new digs and sent his watchdog to warn me off. Come on,” he said, taking my hand with brisk steps and leading me behind the strip mall.
I tripped on a pothole, struggling to keep up. “This restaurant belongs to Feliks?”
“Apparently so.”
“That’swhy you brought me here? Just to goad him?”
“It was the only way I could be sure he’s involved.” He dragged on his gloves and pushed back the lid of the dumpster behind the restaurant.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he hauled himself over the top.
He reached back for me with an impish grin. “Just a little digging around. You want in?”
“No!”
“Suit yourself.” He disappeared inside, bags and cans crunching under him.
“What are you looking for?” I called over the top.
“Anything that’s not related to food.”
“Is this legal?”
He laughed. “Aren’t you the woman who had to call a tow truck to rescue her from a botched B and E?”
“I’mnot a police officer,” I reminded him. “And that house didn’t belong to Feliks Zhirov.” I whirled as a dead bolt slid open behind me. “Someone’s coming!” I whispered.
“Give me your hands!” Nick grabbed me as I reached for him, hauling me over the side of the dumpster. I landed on my butt in a pile of trash. He ducked beside me and held a finger in front of his lips.
A door flung open. Footsteps scraped against the pavement. We shielded our heads as two giant trash bags flew over the lid and landed beside us. Nick waited for the back door to the restaurant to click shut before rolling onto his knees and reaching for the bags. Unknotting one, he sifted through the contents. “Perfect timing,” he murmured. “Shake the tree and all the rotten fruit falls out.”
“What is it?” I asked, peeking over his shoulder.
“Delivery receipts. Feliks uses his own shipping and supply companies. His companies all feed and launder for one another. I’m betting most of these receipts come from businesses he owns under other names. It should be easier to trace them back to Zhirov, now that I know where to look. Kat’s probably in there now, cracking the whip, making sure they get rid of any bread crumbs, in case I come back with a warrant to search the place.” He retied the bags, slinging them over the top of the dumpster to the street below.
