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Knife For Hire

Cinnamon

Six Months Later

“Behind you!” I bark as I come around the corner with the plate.

This meal is important. An after-hours special guest.

“Clean up the mess,” I bark to the dishwashers with a smile.

“Do you want me to present it?” my sous chef asks.

“No.” I shake my head, adding my special ingredient to the top. “This needs to be me. He came for my food, after all.”

It didn’t take long to get established here. To start into a dream I never hoped to have.

My own restaurant.

Carefully picking up the plate, I offer my sous chef and dishwashers a reassuring nod. “Let me finish this up.”

Walking into the dining area, I beeline to the man facing away from me.

He’s dressed in a deep mahogany suede suit and alligator loafs.

The outfit screams money.

I carefully set the plate, presenting it and offering a low bow. “This is my house specialty, as requested.” I don’t raise until I hear the clinking of a fork.

Until I am sure at least a bite has been taken.

“And thank you for renting the entire restaurant out.” Rising up, I offer the man a quirk of my lips. “I hope it is to die for.”

The gun pointed at my face is not a surprise.

Nor is it to see the bouncer who happened to have always been at the scene of every overdose.

Steve.

Except that wasn’t his real name.

“It took awhile to track you down. To get you alone. He made me promise to tie up the loose thread if he couldn’t. I figured I might as well get a free meal out of it.” The bouncer drops his fork.

Except it isn’t on purpose.

His eyes widen in shock, his pupils dilate. It’s clear he’s trying to speak, but his lips refuse to move.

The gun slides from his fingers next.

The poison has taken hold.

“Dice Napolitan. Hidden in plain sight and circulating the drugs.”

My dishwashers and sous chef come out of the kitchen.

“Reuben, let Benedict know it’s done,” I tell one of the dishwashers before addressing the other. “And Kale, time to share the news with your family.”