Janet Evanovich - Wicked Business

I returned to the kitchen, ate a strawberry yogurt, and chugged down a cup of coffee. I zipped myself into a hooded sweatshirt, grabbed my bag, and quietly let myself out. The rest of the houses on my street were dark. It was too early for even the early risers. The air felt frosty, and there was a sliver of moon in the black sky.

I walked the short distance to my car, was about to unlock it, and realized that Wulf was standing very close to me, partially hidden by shadow. My heart stuttered in my chest, and it took a moment for me to regain control.

“I thought you weren’t a morning person,” I said to him.

“My morning begins at sunrise.”

“You aren’t a vampire, are you?”

“No,” Wulf said, “but I have some similar tastes.”

I thought about Diesel, still asleep in my bed, and my line of vision moved from Wulf to my second-story bedroom window.

“If my intent was to take you, we’d be gone by now,” Wulf said.

“He’d track you down.”

“No doubt.”

“So you’re here why?” I asked him.

“I was following Anarchy. She tried to recruit Hatchet and failed. He’s a fool, but he’s loyal. She’ll attack you next, and you’ll be more vulnerable than Hatchet. I doubt your pain threshold is as high as his.”

“Where is she now?”

Wulf went still for a beat, as if he was testing the air. “I’ve lost her, but I suspect she’s not far away. She’ll stick close to you, waiting for her moment.”

“Why were you following her?”

“She needs to be stopped. My semi-law-abiding cousin isn’t sanctioned to destroy her, but I answer to no one.”

A light blinked on in an upstairs room across the street. Wulf stepped back into the shadows and silently disappeared.

I thought about going into the house and waking Diesel, but I was running late, and what was the point. I didn’t want Diesel attached to me 24/7. And I didn’t know what to think about Wulf and Anarchy duking it out.

I got into my car, locked the doors, and drove off, trying to push thoughts of Anarchy out of my head. Much better to think about cupcakes. Plus, it was Sunday, so we would be making apple-cinnamon doughnuts. Okay, so afterward I’d have to clean out the fryer, but it was worth it, because we produced happiness at the bakery. And that was a lot better than destroying people. What the heck did that even mean? Was that like a step beyond killing, where you killed someone and then ran over that person with a steamroller or forced them into a paper shredder?

I crossed the bridge into Salem, making the trip in record time. No traffic at this hour on a Sunday. I parked in the lot and hurried into the bakery.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Clara. “It was one of those mornings.”

“No problem,” Clara said, adjusting the dough hook on the big mixer. “Everything’s on schedule here. I just turned the fryer on, and the dough’s rising nicely.”

“Does Anarchy mean anything to you?” I asked her.

“Political disorder?”

“This Anarchy is a person. I ran into Wulf when I was leaving the house. He’s after a woman named Anarchy.”

“I didn’t know you and Wulf were so chummy. Isn’t Diesel living with you?”

“He isn’t living with me. He’s temporarily camped out in my house. Anyway, he was upstairs asleep, and Wulf was outside by my car.”

“Holy cow.”

I buttoned myself into my chef coat. “There’s something about Wulf that takes my breath away. He’s never done anything to actually hurt me, but he still scares the heck out of me.”

“He burned you! You have a scar on your hand.”

“Aside from that.”

Glo walked in, set Broom in the corner, and hung her tote bag on a hook by the door. “I came in early for doughnuts. Who are we talking about?”

“Wulf,” I told her.

“He’s very hot,” Glo said. “He’s like a vampire. Dominant and sensual and scary. It’s like, have you ever been on the Hulk roller coaster at Universal? It’s terrifying and a total rush, and when you get off, your pants are wet and you can’t figure out if it’s because of this or that.”

“Happens to me on the 1A when I have to go around those rotaries during rush hour,” Clara said.

I didn’t have any comparable experiences to share, so I hauled out a bag of flour and set it on my workstation.

“How was your date with the bellringer?” I asked Glo.

“It was wonderful,” she said. “He’s so cute. And he’s smart. And he knows everything there is to know about bells. I think Broom liked him, too. Broom didn’t whack him or anything. I honestly think he might be the one.”

It was eleven-thirty, and there were no customers in the shop. Clara and I were done baking and starting final cleanup, and Glo poked her head through the doorway.

“That scary woman is back,” Glo said. “The one who feels like Darth Vader. She wants to talk to Lizzy.”

“Deirdre Early?” I asked.

“Yes!”

Early’s glossy black hair was perfect, swept back behind one ear. Her makeup was dramatic and flawless. Her red knit suit was probably designer, but I didn’t know which one. Her demeanor was ice queen.

“We have a problem,” she said to me. “I’d like to speak to you in private.”

“I’ll help Clara,” Glo said, escaping into the kitchen.

I kept the counter between us. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You’re still assisting Diesel, even after I warned you.”

“I’m not assisting him,” I said. “We’re partners.”

“Oh please, look at you. You bake cupcakes. You’re nothing more than a minion, like that idiot Hatchet.”

“Is there a point to this?”

Her eyes dilated black. “The point is that you have a choice to make. You can be my minion or you can die.”

“Diesel wouldn’t be happy about either of those choices.”

“When I get the stone, Diesel will be enslaved to me.”

“And Wulf?”

“Wulf as well. Every man and woman on this planet will desire me to the point of insanity.”

Oh boy, I thought, she was nutty as a fruitcake and probably a homicidal maniac.

“You seem like a reasonable person,” I said to her. “Why don’t you let me give you a box of cupcakes, on the house, and you can go home and think about all this. I mean, you might not want me as a minion. I’m not that good at subservience.”

She put her hands palms down on the glass display case and leaned forward, eyes narrowed, face totally drained of color. “Make your choice. My minion or death.”

There were assorted bagels on a tray on the top shelf of the case and the bagels under her hands were vibrating.

“Well?” she said.

The bagels were dancing, rattling against the tray.

“Would you mind stepping back?” I said. “You’re disturbing the bagels.”

The bagels weren’t the only things getting disturbed. I was completely freaked. Early was emitting so much energy I was sure my hair was standing on end.

“I demand an answer,” she said, raising her voice, her teeth clenched. “I command you to give me an answer now .”

She pounded the countertop when she said now , and Zzing … a bagel jumped off the tray and flew the length of the display case.

“Jeez Louise,” I said to her. “You need to relax. You’re leaking energy. You’re going to self-combust if you keep going like this.”

Clara came into the shop. “Is everything okay out here?”

“Leave this room,” Early said. “This is a private conversation.”

“Excuse me? I own this room,” Clara said.

“I will not tolerate insolence,” Early said, her voice a notch below a shriek. She grabbed a heavy glass jar off the counter, threw it at Clara, and hit her square in the forehead. Clara crumpled to the ground, and I went after Early, smacking her on the side of the head with a baguette. She growled and reached for me, and I threw a cherry cheese Danish at her. The cheese Danish caught her mid-chest, leaving a gooey splotch on her suit jacket.