Conspiracy of Ravens (Crawford Investigations Book 1) Page 21

  She sighed.

  “I don’t wish to speak at all.” Cole’s gaze smouldered. His hands slipped down her body, gripped her butt and pulled her close again. “I wish to do other things.”

  “You’re going to distract me with sex?” Oh, please. Yes.

  “Is it working?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  Raven rolled to fully face Cole. Something about him still called to her, even now, after what they shared. She should be sated and content, yet, she wanted more. She’d take everything he had to offer.

  Cole’s dark gaze met hers. Deep pools of melding shadows. She could fall into the depths of his soul. She’d drown there, undoubtedly, but she wouldn’t put up much of a struggle. She wouldn’t attempt to swim or stay afloat. She’d let the shadows rise all around her and let them consume her.

  And that’s what scared her.

  “Cole?” Her brain finally screeched to a halt, fixated on a thought and poised to ambush this blissful moment.

  “Mmm?” He ran his hand along her bare arm, smoothing down the goosebumps.

  “Whose feather did I find in my brother’s hideaway?”

  His hand stilled. He took a breath. “Lloth. The Corvid Queen.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “If Monday had a face, I would slap it…with a tire iron.”

  ~Raven Crawford, every Monday morning

  Odin’s ominous voice replayed over and over in Raven’s memory as she worked. Are you here for Lloth?

  Lloth, the Corvid Queen, ruled the Realm of Shadows. Did Cole work for her? The titles of queen and lord didn’t translate well into Mortal Realm understanding of hierarchy, so though Cole was a lord, it didn’t mean he served a queen. It meant he had a shit-ton of power. If the lords occupied a position of power or ruling, they were called queen or king.

  Raven wanted to grill the Lord of Shadows on the mysterious Lloth and why Odin would assume Cole was her messenger boy, preferably with clothes on, but then she glanced at the clock.

  “Shit!” She had scrambled out of bed and found the closest, cleanest work clothes she could find. She pulled the polyester black pants over her legs and quickly buttoned her blouse. The clothes weighed no more than any of her other outfits, yet, every time she donned the work uniform, she felt heavier. Sadder. After throwing on her work clothes, she had stumbled to the door like a drunk sailor.

  Cole had leapt out of bed and stopped her. “Have a quick shower. I can take you to work.”

  Now, she found herself at said work and though she’d grabbed the quick shower Cole offered, the deluge of mist-scented water didn’t alleviate any of the bitterness from working at Dan’s Diner or the uneasiness of Bear’s disappearance. Here she stood, clad in polyester, tired, confused, a little scared and a lot angry. Not just at Cole for the unknown, and concern for Bear, but because of the twat-waffle who sat at table five.

  “Where’s your date?” Raven placed the loaded breakfast plates on the table in front of Robert. Nothing killed an after-sex glow faster than having to serve the ex she despised and his latest fling.

  Robert glanced over his shoulder toward the restrooms. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

  His overpowering cologne rose from the booth like a stink bomb and punched her nose. He reached into his man-purse, or murse, and pulled out a vape pen.

  “You can’t do that in here.”

  Robert’s hand froze with the mouthpiece inches from his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “Put the douche flute away.”

  “It’s just water vap—”

  “Put it away.”

  He held his hands up, one still clutching the vape, in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties all twisted up.”

  “Can I get you anything else?” Raven spoke through gritted teeth. If she clenched her jaw any more, she’d crack another filling. Robert had no say or impact anymore on her panties or how twisted they got.

  Her ex knew she worked here. This awkward “run-in” was staged, not an accident. The sooner Robert found his balls and got to the point, the sooner she could tell him to fuck off and get on with her day.

  “Listen,” Robert started.

  Finally. She winced as another oldies song serenaded the customers through the scratchy speakers.

  “I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “Yeah, sure.” The bright artificial lights paired with the summer sunshine streaming through the windows burned her eyes. She rarely worked days. She preferred the night shift.

  “No, I am. I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her fingers twitched. She swallowed and ignored the urge to flap her hands in exaggerated circles for him to speed up.

  Robert glanced at the restroom doors again. The clinking of cutlery and plates along with the general din of conversation almost drowned out Robert’s next words. “I feel bad.”

  Aww, he wanted to clear his conscience. How nice. Unless it came with a cheque for fifty large, she wasn’t interested.

  Robert waited.

  She sighed and rocked back on her heels. “About what, exactly? Leaving me with fifty thousand dollars in debt I had no way of repaying while you declared bankruptcy and somehow went on with your life with no apparent repercussions?”

  Robert’s gaze shifted back and forth.

  “While I had to ditch my dreams to work day and night in order to pay off your loan and prevent the bank from going after my parents?”

  “Well, actually…”

  She folded her arms. “Oh. Not that?”

  His cheeks grew pink and he looked down.

  “Or do you feel bad for being a prick the other night when I brought in Mike for a cast? Your selfish little stunt could’ve cost Mike his ability to shift.”

  He opened his mouth to start speaking.

  She held her hand up. “Don’t bother. Although I’m surprised you made it through med school, which I’m essentially still paying for, your behaviour wasn’t unexpected.”

  He shut his mouth and glared.

  She placed both hands on the smooth surface of the table and leaned in. “What you should feel bad about is knowingly showing up at my place of work and parading your latest lay in front of me with some sick pretense of feeling bad and wanting to talk about it.”

  “Sarah isn’t my fuckbuddy.”

  Raven raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s my fiancée.”

  As if someone punched her in the gut, her stomach sucked in and the air flew out of her lungs. She straightened from the table. The air buzzed and her head grew light. “Has anyone warned her not to co-sign a loan with you?”

  “I honestly do feel bad…for you.” Robert’s annoying voice broke through her fuzzy vision.

  Wait. What? “For me?”

  Robert nodded. “You’re obviously still upset about how things ended. I should’ve provided better closure, and I should’ve told you about Sarah sooner.”

  The fuzzy film cleared from her vision, replaced with red. Blood red. A knife sat on the table mere inches from her reach. She could pluck it off the table, grip the cool metal in her hand and plunge the blunt knife deep in his chest in a matter of seconds.

  She paused and ran over the option again. No. Knowing her luck, the knife would bounce off that awful gold medallion he insisted on wearing under his shirt, and she’d end up getting cut.

  Robert waited for her reply, a serene smile plastered on his face. How had she not realized she dated a sociopath until now? Where did she begin to answer him?

  Fuck off? Like she originally planned? No, too abrasive for work and not after he made it out like she was the one with the problem. Although, it would feel fantastic and he certainly deserved something offensive.

  Don’t be sorry for me, be sorry for yourself? Ugh, too childish. Too similar to “I know you are but what am I.” She may as well kick his shin, stomp on his foot or stick out her tongue.

  She paused. No. No. Not viable options either.

  She glanced at
the kitchen. Mike watched from the service window in his stained chef’s whites with his good arm crossed over the one with the cast, offering silent support with a death glare aimed at the back of Robert’s head. Dan wasn’t in today. No regulars. Maybe she should go with the option number one anyway and tell him to fuck off.

  “Who was that guy?” Robert asked.

  “What?”

  “The guy with you and Mike. Who is he?”

  “He’s none of your business.” She clenched her hands and straightened her arms. Maybe she should kiss and tell. She certainly could list off Cole’s bedrooms skills and the number of—

  Robert shrugged.

  “What?”

  He fiddled with the fork in front of him. “Doesn’t seem like your type, that’s all.”

  Her scalp prickled. “I tried a sociopathic asshat, but that didn’t work out so well for me.”

  Robert’s hold on the fork tightened. “That’s uncalled for. You better—”

  “I better what? You already screwed me over. What more can you do?”

  Robert’s gaze met hers. For once, she found something other than cold indifference there. Hate. Pure, simple, direct.

  Her spine straightened. She might have called him a few names and spewed some swear words at him in the aftermath of their relationship, but last time she checked, she’d done nothing worthy of such uninhibited rage.

  Had he always felt this way? Covering it up with his fake veneer?

  “Hey, honey.” Sarah flounced in. Wavy chestnut hair bouncing around. She leaned in and planted a kiss on Robert’s pale cheek before sitting down. A subtle wave of fragrant flowers followed her.

  Raven inhaled slowly. Huh. Not just flowers. Dirt and the faint tang of fur. So faint, Raven almost missed it, and probably would’ve if she hadn’t lived with a skulk of foxes. Robert’s fiancée was some kind of shifter.

  “Oh!” Sarah’s eyes widened as they fixated on the food. “This looks great, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Raven managed a smile and turned to the obviously clueless woman. Not her fault she was engaged to a narcissistic jerk. Could she warn the poor thing without coming across jaded?

  The brunette smiled and Raven walked away from the table. She’d finally off-loaded a lot of what she wished she’d said a long time ago. Instead of feeling elated, or simply relieved, though, confusion and doubt plagued her mind.

  Had something happened between her and Robert? Something she was unaware of? Something that drove him away? Something that allowed him to feel justified and unapologetic for screwing her over? She’d labelled him an asshole and tried to move on with her life, while cleaning up the crap he’d dumped on her. What if all this time she’d been wrong?

  Calm washed over her like a cool wave on a hot day. No. No she hadn’t done anything wrong. Robert was a grade “A” jerk.

  And just like that, the anger returned.

  She walked through the kitchen, past her brother and the sizzling hamburger patties, and headed for the back storage area. Without a word, Mike followed.

  “He…She…He said…So angry…” she sputtered.

  Mike held his arms open and she fell into them. Despite his lean frame, his presence warmed her and helped ease the swirling emotions. Sometimes, family love was the best therapy. But as good as Mike’s hugs were, she missed her twin.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I’m getting tired of waking up and not being on the beach with a mojito.”

  ~Raven Crawford, every morning

  Still reeling from her run in with Robert, Raven watched from the counter and held her breath. One by one, each customer at table six stood and threw cash down on their separate cheques for each person. Normally, Raven hated large tables that demanded separate payment, but not this time. From the looks of the bills flittering through the air, they were leaving generous tips.

  Raven bit her lip. She might actually have enough money to pay for her filling tomorrow instead of having to use credit. She’d called the dentist’s office on her break before the lunch rush. The dreaded appointment needed to happen. Since she cracked her filling, mid-shift on the bathroom of Bane’s Cabin-of-Horror, her mouth ached, and a constant throb plagued her gums. Food hurt to eat, and coffee hurt to drink. Raven was miserable.

  The last member of the group stood up and smiled at his friends. “I have to use my credit card,” he said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  No!

  “Yeah, okay,” one of the others said as the rest of the group headed out.

  The last customer collected all the separate cheques and the money his friends had left and brought it to the counter where Raven stood.

  No. She gripped a paper napkin in her fist.

  He beamed a hundred-watt smile at her as if the sheer brilliance of his veneers would hide his true intentions. “I may as well put the whole thing on my card.” He winked at her. “For the points.”

  Noooooooooooooo. She squeezed the napkin with both hands so hard it ripped.

  The dreaded Seagull. Server Pet Peeve Number Three, not that anyone else cared.

  Raven’s shoulders slumped as she watched the man pocket his friends’ cash and her hard earned tips with it. She balled up the destroyed napkin and chucked it in the nearby waste bin, before plucking the card from the seagull’s hand. She ran his card and handed the slip over for him to complete. She didn’t need to see what he scribbled on the little piece of paper to know he left her a shitty tip.

  He smiled magnanimously again while he signed his name.

  She managed a facial twitch and grunt.

  He frowned, obviously unused to someone not falling for his charismatic demeanour and left the diner in a hasty retreat. The chime jingled with the door opening and closing and a blast of summer heat rushed into the diner.

  Good riddance.

  Seagulls were one of Raven’s top pet peeves. They swooped in, gathered all their party’s money including their generous tips, and then paid for the entire bill under the guise of wanting points, needing cash for something, or some other bullshit reason, when really, what they were doing was stealing from their friends and robbing the server of his or her tips in order to partially pay for their own meal.

  Scammers. Fraudsters.

  They could smile with all their pretty teeth as much as they liked, but Seagulls were thieves, and she could never be friends with one.

  Raven snatched the credit card slip from the counter and scowled.

  Sure enough, a ten percent tip. Each of his friends had left her at least twenty.

  “Argghhhhh!” Raven clenched her hands into fists and snarled at the ceiling.

  The elderly couple at table two jumped and turned their wary gazes in her direction.

  Mike’s head popped up at the service window. “What’s wrong?”

  “Another Seagull.”

  “Vermin.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She plucked some miscellaneous food from her blouse and turned to start cleaning and stocking behind the counter. The lunch rush had ended, and the diner was slowly clearing out.

  “Are you going to tell me what else is wrong?”

  She dumped the used coffee filter in the garbage and rinsed the holder out. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Rayray. You haven’t been yourself all day.”

  She rummaged in the supply cupboard for new filters. When she straightened, she hiked up her pants. In her haste this morning, she’d forgotten a belt and now her pants insisted on trying to slip off her ass every time she bent or squatted. She placed a new filter in the holder and avoided her brother’s knowing gaze. She loved Mike but discussing her morning after glow wasn’t happening. Ever.

  “I mean, besides Bear missing.”

  With an expert tug, she ripped open a pack of pre-measured coffee. The smell of fresh grounds rose to caress her face. She closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. Ahhhh. Though she knew from experience this particular brand of coffee tasted closer t
o trough water than delight, it still smelled like heaven. She emptied the coffee in the filter and shoved the holder back into the coffee machine.

  “And besides Doctor Douche.”

  Raven sighed.

  “And finding out your biological father is really two mythological birds created by the God of War.”

  Raven snorted.

  Mike’s lips twitched. “Maybe I should ask what’s going well, instead.”

  The tell-tale jingle of coins interrupted her response. Raven turned and watched the elderly couple pull out a large plastic bag of coins. She leaned forward and squinted. Small coins. Were those pennies? The one cent copper coins had been discontinued by the government and taken out of circulation years ago.

  The man peeled the bag open and started counting the change. The coins flashed under the bright lights.

  Yup. Pennies.

  Mike slow whistled behind her. “Bad luck.”

  Raven’s shoulders sagged and she continued to watch as the couple stacked the coins in neat columns. Each coin plucked out slowly made its way to a stack with a clink. Clink, clank, clink. Each tinker a nail in Raven’s poverty coffin.

  Raven swallowed a groan.

  “Think they’ll leave exact change?” Mike whispered from behind her.

  “Of course, they will.” Raven turned back to her brother. She generally had more tolerance for elderly shenanigans, especially considered the majority of them were on fixed incomes, but their payment option meant she’d have to sit in a booth rolling coins after her shift ended.

  The elderly couple were the last in the restaurant. When they hobbled past the front counter, Raven smiled and waved, wishing them a pleasant evening.

  When the door shut, Mike turned back to her. “So, what’s up?”

  “What do you know about Lloth?”

  “The Corvid Queen? Not much. Why?” Mike wiped the sweat from his brow with his unharmed forearm.

  “Just something Odin and Huginn Muninn said.”