Chapter 8
Les leaned over and piped a tiny carrot on top of the thick white frosting. It looked like a little orange dick. Once the green was added, it would look like a carrot.
The table in front of him was covered in personal sized cakes. As soon as he finished piping the frosting design on all of them, he would complete the decoration with sprigs of crystallized mint leaves. That reminded him, the kitchen needed more fresh mint. He would ask Tori next time she showed up.
He smiled and began humming. He didn’t realize the tune was the RB funk classic Brick House, until he started singing out loud.
Next to him, the tall aluminum baker’s rack spun. Cyan del Fuego stepped out from behind it. She obviously had filched something from the rack.
“These éclairs are almost as good as the ones I had last time I was in Paris.” Cyan licked her fingertips like a cat licked its claws. “You won’t tell on me for stealing a pastry, will you?”
Les shook his head. Who would he rat her out to? He didn’t think excessive pastry consumption was something Morgan would be interested in.
“It’s quiet,” she pointed out.
“The lunch rush is over, and the dining room is closed for a few hours before dinner,” Les said.
Cyan pursed her lips. “Closed? Is that such a good idea?”
Les shrugged. “I don’t manage the place, I just make the desserts.”
“And what fine desserts you make.”
Les narrowed his eyes. “Somehow, I don’t think you’re here to steal an early afternoon snack.”
“Very perceptive. That’s such a Palatine trait.”
Les bristled.
“Down, boy.”
He let the edge of his upper lip curl up in a mock snarl. Cyan’s sharp laugh set the rest of the mood. He could be snarky, but within limits. He wasn’t comfortable pushing that limit. She was a very powerful individual. And even if she wasn’t physically strong enough to take him on, that brute, Viktor could probably take on Les’s wolf.
“I need you to be perceptive. Someone isn’t playing very nicely with me or mine,” she confessed. She used such a tone that Les wasn’t immediately certain that he got her meaning.
“Is someone messing with you? You?”
Her eyes widened for a brief moment, and she nodded. “Some delightful person, or persons, left a…” She paused, casting her gaze side to side as if searching for the right words. “Gift. Yes, let’s call it a gift. You know how kitty cats will bring their humans little creatures, mice, birds, lizards? Well, it’s like that, only far less charming. I don’t have a cat, and these presents have been separated from their heads.”
Les put down the piping bag slowly. He focused on the thickening in the back of his throat and swallowed the urge to puke down hard. After slowly wiping his clean hands on his apron, he leveled his gaze on Cyan’s face.
“If someone were giving you dead animals, why haven’t I heard about it? The gossip mill in this place is through the roof. There’s no way housekeeping has kept this to themselves.”
“Oh, housekeeping doesn’t know anything about any of this. I do know how to clean up my own messes. I wouldn’t necessarily put it past it being someone from that group. But I doubt it. It is an inside job. But how deep inside? Whose house is the call coming from?”
Les pulled his brows together.
Cyan rotated her hands, fingers splayed, until her palms pointed upward. “Your house?” She then folded her wrists until her fingertips rested lightly on her collar bones. “My house? Or Viktor’s?”
Leaving one hand resting on her chest she twisted the other until she held up a single finger.
Les nodded in understanding. “You want me to make sure that my house is clean?”
“I want you to find out what you find out.”
Les bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “You know, Morgan lives just in the next valley over. Maybe you should give him a call. He’s got guys who are trained to do this kind of thing. I’m literally a pastry chef.”
“And a Palatine. I need the Palatine in you.”
“Sounds dangerous. Can I leverage this for a raise?” Les chuckled as he eyed the orange semi-phallic veggies he had been piping. Internally, he wasn’t laughing. Around Cyan, he needed to maintain a cool and in control facade.
Cyan was silent for a moment, and then she also chuckled. “For a second, I thought you weren’t joking. No raise, but there will be a substantial bonus. I have an in with your boss.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
She leaned in uncomfortably close. “I’m glad we understand each other. Use. Your. Nose.” Each word was emphasized by the slightest tap of her finger against his nose. She smiled her vicious smile, blood red lips parting.
Body parts quivered. Not in lust or excitement, but in fear. He didn’t want whatever this attention was. He wasn’t a fan of being a favorite of a woman like Cyan del Fuego. Then again, he would much rather have her like him than not. A shutter danced down his spine. It took every ounce of control not to let her see him flinch.
“I’m so glad we understand each other.” She took a rather large, unladylike bite from an éclair off the rack. She wiped the corner of her mouth and rolled her eyes with a moan that sounded sexual. “So good.”
Les held perfectly still, only his eyes moved as he watched her leave.
Someone thought they could mess with Cyan del Fuego and Viktor Killbride and get away with it? Les pushed his tongue into his cheek as he thought. Why would someone like Cyan need his help?
Didn’t she handle it all on her own?
He started chuckling. Of course, someone as powerful as Cyan would have a cadre of spies working behind the scenes. Someone who pulled as many strings as the Northern California Coven Master wasn’t all knowing. She just seemed like it because of her network.
“Well, fuck,” he said as he picked up the piping bag of icing. She was trouble, only he wasn’t certain exactly what kind just yet. This was something else he should probably fill Morgan in on. But so far, no one from Mission Run seemed to think that Cyan del Fuego’s presence was worth a look-see. He shook his head to clear it. He had orange phalli to pipe.
Lost in the placement of his mint leaves, Les started singing Brick House again.
A low curse came from the back door, followed with an “uff” and other sounds that accompanied the carrying of large delivery trays.
Tori lugged the bushel of tomatoes through the back door to the kitchen. She left it on the trestle table and headed back to the van.
Les leaned against the half wall and watched her wrangle her load.
“Hey, Tori.”
She sidestepped as Karen entered, her hair in tight coils of bright colors, held up in a ponytail on top of her head. When she smiled back at him, he couldn’t help but smile more broadly.
Had he noticed that her eyes twinkled like that before? She seemed brighter, almost as if she shimmered. Probably her makeup or glitter. She seemed the type to do arts and crafts and be covered in glitter.
“What’s with the crazy hair?” He nodded, indicating her cascade of curled ribbons.
She reached up and touched her head. Her eyes went wide, and she flushed a light pink under her freckles.
“Oh crap. I forgot to take those out.” She left her hand resting on top of her hairstyle.
“Tell everyone it was on purpose. They kind of look like those extension things mi primas put in their hair for parties.”
“Then pretend that’s what I told you. How’s that cheesecake coming along?”
“Someone I know didn’t get me enough lavender to make more than a few sample batches,” Les teased.
He felt like a goon the second he saw Tori’s face. She really did feel bad about that. “But hey, she’s promised to get me all the lavender I can handle as soon as her contact’s crop blooms.”
“I’m sorry about that. So many growers in this area presell,” Tori tried to explain.
“I didn’t mean to poke at a sore spot. I’ve been busy doing production runs. I’ll have time to experiment and make samples next week. Chef wants a full seasonal shift. Time to phase out the heavier cakes for lighter options. With the new owner around, it’s a good time to impress her.”
“The owner is here?”
“Yeah, why surprised?” Les asked.
Tori shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the Vista Antigua was a corporate chain. You know, like the upscale brand for Hilton or something.”
“It is corporate, technically. So, the CEO of that company is here, and she’s an interesting person.” Les was tempted to lean in and tell Tori about Cyan and her trysts with her boy toy. Gossiping about Cyan del Fuego was a very bad idea.
Karen appeared silently behind Tori and tugged on her shirt.
“I’m gonna have to head out,” Tori said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait.” Les stopped her. “I need more mint. That’s you, right?”
“That’s us. I’ll make sure you get some. And I’ll make sure that slacker lavender supplier of yours delivers. I really want to try that cheesecake.”
Her hair bounced in springy coils as she left. She was wearing jeans again. Her backside was mighty, mighty.