Silken Scales by Alex Hayes

Author:Alex Hayes [Hayes, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781595730046
Publisher: Shaking the Trees Press
Published: 2019-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

25

Idris

Where the hell is she?

It’s been two hours since Cadi left for the grocery store, and I’ve been pacing the nightclub floor for the past twenty minutes.

Twilight has settled a deep plum shade over the world outdoors. Not dark enough for me to go out and look for her yet.

Tension presses into my chest. Has she bailed? Taken my money and blown me off?

No. Her backpack’s still here.

Is she in trouble? I should have given her my phone.

Argh. What the hell am I thinking? We can’t both have it.

I’m staring at the black screen of the device, inches away from texting Marek to ask him to go look for her, when three quick knocks come at the back door.

I don’t even check it’s her, just slam back the bolt and wrench the door open.

Cadi stands before me, chest heaving. Her eyes look huge and flood with relief the moment she sees me. She scoots inside and topples against the passage wall. I slam the door shut and secure it.

As I reach for the light switch, so I can see her face, she cries, “Don’t! She’ll see.”

I abort and rescue the grocery bags hanging from her limp arms before they crash to the floor. “What happened?”

“Someone followed me.” Her voice is hoarse from the cold. “I came out of the store and this creepy old lady stared at me. She followed me to the center of town. Thought I’d given her the slip, but this taxi pulled up. I managed to sneak through a hole in the fence and cut across a couple of parking lots before circling back here.”

“Did the old lady have weird eyes?”

Cadi frowns. “Yeah, they glowed.”

I nod. “She came knocking here the same night you did. Got pretty close to her once before and…let’s just say she needed a shower.”

Cadi’s eyes meet mine. “Do you think we’re safe here?”

“Remember the gangster I told you about? That door’s steel-clad and every window in this place is barred. I don’t see an old lady getting in here without some pretty serious equipment. But I’d like to know who she is and what she wants.”

We head downstairs and unpack the shopping bags. Cadi arranges the items she needs on the counter. I take a seat at the conference table, out of the way but close enough to watch her work. She’s efficient and knows how to wield a knife.

Something to bear in mind if I ever piss her off.

Before long, tomatoes, garlic and olive oil are bubbling in one pan, and water’s heating in another, while she rolls pasta dough across the countertop with an empty glass bottle.

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” I’ve made a habit of staying out of the kitchen until it’s time to eat, but watching her work, I can see how the process might be fun.

“I always try to be helpful,” Cadi answers, pausing her rolling to toss a pinch more salt in the sauce. “But I learned most of what I know from Mama.

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