Kate Carlisle - Homicide in Hardcover

I needed to walk off my anger and clear my head. Since I couldn’t do much with the book until the glue dried, I decided to take a lunch break. I told the front desk where I was going and headed to my favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle house, the Holy Ramen Empire.

As I cautiously walked down the steep slope of Pacific toward Fillmore, that feeling that someone was watching me returned. I continually glanced around, but didn’t see anyone I knew.

Safely inside the restaurant, I ordered the Singapore noodle bowl with shrimp and a small pot of tea, then set my tray down at a small table by the front window and dug into the noodle bowl with gusto. I opened my paperback copy of Faust and read while I ate.

It was… interesting. I knew it was a classic, considered by many to be the finest German work of fiction in history, but I couldn’t help thinking that if he tried to sell it today, old Goethe might find himself out of luck. Still, I was surprised to find so much humor in the dialogue. Naturally, the devil got all the best lines.

I skimmed the translator’s introduction and his words began to jump out at me. Alchemy, magic, necromancy. Temptation. The devil.

I rubbed my arms to ward off another bout of shivers, then glanced up as a man walked into the restaurant wearing worn jeans and ratty high-top sneakers. Despite the fact that his faded navy hoodie stretched so far over his head I couldn’t see his face, he seemed familiar to me. I’d seen him somewhere before. In my neighborhood, maybe? Or earlier in Noe Valley? Had he been following me? I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to relax.

Hoodie Guy checked out the menu on the wall above the cash register, then turned around and stared at the people in the room. He might’ve made eye contact with me. I couldn’t tell. There was a black hole where the hoodie covered his face and eyes.

I tried to brush him off as yet another San Francisco burnout, but it wasn’t easy. After all I’d been through lately, this weirdo was freaking me out. I stared at the noodle bowl and realized I’d lost my appetite.

Now I was really angry.

I kept my eye on Hoodie Guy, aware that too much ugly stuff had happened over the past week. I reminded myself that once I was through with the Winslow project, I would be able to put the finishing touches on two books I was eager to enter in the Edinburgh Book Fair competition.

In one short month, I’d be packing my bags and taking off for Scotland. I breathed in deeply and tried to picture myself in Edinburgh, walking along the Royal Mile, stepping into a pub on a cold day for a pint and a sandwich. I loved the city, loved the people, and the Edinburgh Book Fair was one of the best in the world. I would see old friends and have a blast.

I smiled at the thought. Edinburgh as a distraction always worked for me. Determined to ignore Hoodie Guy, I scooped up another bite of noodles. My appetite-and therefore, my world-was righting itself.

A woman screamed at the front of the restaurant and I stared in horror as Hoodie Guy pulled out a gun and waved it around.

The woman at the counter cried out again and everyone in the room panicked, scrambling and screaming and dropping to the floor to avoid being hurt. Me, I was too stunned to move, but my blood and my temper were bubbling over.

“Shut up!” Hoodie Guy shouted, holding one hand over his ear as he brandished the gun with the other.

Two more people lurched off their chairs and scrambled to hide, using their meager fast food restaurant table as a shield.

I shoved away from the table, but the back of my chair was trapped too close to the chair behind me. The push caused the table to jostle and the noodle bowl bobbled precariously. I grabbed the bowl just as Hoodie Guy whirled around and pointed his gun directly at me. I let the bowl go. It hit the table and broke, sending noodles and broth and fragments of porcelain flying in every direction, but mostly all over me.

“Damn it,” I yelled, and Hoodie Guy stared right at me. His eyes were still hidden, but I could see his teeth as he grinned, cocked his gun and slowly straightened his aim.

“No,” I whispered.

He was a nanosecond from pulling the trigger when a man dressed entirely in black stepped inside the door and said, “What up, dawg?”

Hoodie was taken aback. It was just the distraction I needed. I grabbed the soy sauce bottle and threw it like a missile. It glanced off Hoodie Guy’s ear.

“Motherfucker!” he shouted, and turned back toward me, just as Man in Black kicked the gun out of his hand.

The gun went soaring. Some people cried out in horror. Hoodie Guy yelled incoherently and Man in Black moved in, grabbed Hoodie’s arm and wrenched it behind his back, then shoved him down on the floor.

Hoodie cried out as he writhed back and forth, trying to escape.

“Sorry, dude, does that hurt?” Man in Black asked.

“Yes! Oww!”

“Good.” He pushed his knee into Hoodie’s back and grinned harshly when the creep howled.

I stared at the surreal scene in utter shock. Everyone in the restaurant stayed completely still. The fear and confusion were palpable.

Who was this Man in Black? An accomplice? A savior? He was tall and wore a striking black leather duster that skimmed his long, lean legs and fit his broad shoulders like a glove. His shirt and pants were black and so were his boots.

He was frankly beautiful. His hair was black, too, thick and long, worn back off his forehead in a dramatic sweep that almost reached his shoulders. His eyes were dark as well, and when he grinned, two dimples emerged in a face more suited to an angel than any human.

A dark angel.

Broth seeped into my clothes, but I couldn’t move from my chair, just sat there staring at Man in Black as he pushed his knee more forcefully into the squirming Hoodie Guy’s back.

Man in Black scanned the room, then focused on me. I caught my breath as his eyes twinkled and his dimples teased.

“You okay, Brooklyn?” he asked.

Startled, I nodded. “I’m okay.”

He winked at me and said, “Call the police.”

He knew my name?

Tall, Dark, Dangerous and Gorgeous knew my name?

Sirens wailed to a stop outside. I didn’t have time to figure out how he knew me before six police officers converged on the room.

As one of them tried to calm down the counter woman, the restaurant patrons scurried out from under the tables. I stayed where I was. My chair was wedged too tightly into the space, but more important, my knees were wobbly. I was still staggered by the events that had just occurred.

I’d escaped sure death by less than a second. I knew it. Everyone here knew it, and they were all gathered in small groups discussing it. My only question was, who was Man in Black and how did he know my name? Okay, that was two questions but I wasn’t up for quibbling.

As Man in Black released Hoodie Guy into the hands of two of the police officers, everyone applauded. He waved off their praise and moved out of the way, over to the wall, where he leaned casually with one booted foot crossed in front of the other.

One woman stared at him in stark adoration, shooting quick glances my way that plainly said she wished she’d been the one about to die.

So who was this knight in black leather armor?

The police handcuffed Hoodie, pulled him to his feet and pushed the hood off to see his face. He was thin with pale skin and a shaved head. He had a tattoo of a snake wrapped around his neck. The snake’s fangs were exposed and its forked tongue slithered across the guy’s bald head.

Ugh. My hands shook. He was just a kid, no more than twenty. Needless to say, I didn’t recognize him, but I was pretty sure I’d never forget him.