Page 108 of Nemesis

And then the sheriff is in the doorway, watching us watch his people fuck up my club.

I look over my shoulder at him and sip my tea.

It’s piping hot, but it’s a comfort nonetheless. He’s dressed like the dickhead he is, hat firmly in place, uniform perfect. It’s annoying how put together he seems compared to hownotI feel.

Would it kill him to have a stain somewhere?

“Antonio,” he greets my business partner. “Artemis.”

I scowl.

He presents us with the warrant, but I don’t move. Antonio is the one who reaches out and takes it, scanning the pages.

I keep my gaze on the sheriff—which is how I miss our security feeds going out one by one.

Antonio makes a noise, and I whirl around to catch the last one darkening.

I shoot out of my chair and face the sheriff. “Kora would be disappointed in you.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “She couldn’t stop this any more than you could. Just let us do our jobs.”

“Fine.” Antonio beats me to the punch.

“Let’s step out.” Nathan Bradshaw has the good grace to look a little sorry, shifting out of the way and motioning for us to leave the office.

“This isn’t fair,” I hiss to Antonio.

My steadfast friend takes my hand. We go into the hall, and I jolt at the realization that there are more officers with Bradshaw. They file into the office and begin to take apart Antonio’s computer system.

There are already people in mine.

“The computers, Nathan?” Antonio questions. “Really?”

I let out a sigh and shake my head. “It’s not worth it. We need to find our staff.”

“They’re downstairs,” the sheriff says.

Antonio and I find them all gathered in the middle of the now-empty dance floor. The DJ cut the music, although even they still linger.

There’s a dozen of us, and most of the staff seem dejected, confused, or just stressed.

Not on my watch.

I put on my brightest smile and clap my hands. “Anyone hungry?”

That’s how we end up at Antonio’s. Not to be confused with Antonio’s house, or Bow & Arrow, which Antonio runs with me. No, this is a restaurant owned by Jace that Antonio helped him build up, and he still pops in to manage the quality. It’s quite the fancy place, with even a baby grand piano in the center of the room to serenade guests.

Antonio used to live above the restaurant before he and his wife outgrew the small apartment, and then they converted it into a sort of safe house.

But at this hour, the restaurant is closed, and everyone gathers around the tables in the commercial kitchen. Antonio pulls out supplies, and before I can even process what’s happening, he has everyone making personal pizzas. His low voice, carrying instructions on how to stretch out the dough, the best way to spread sauce, buzzes in my ears.

It’s soothing. Maybe not to me in this moment, but for everyone else.

I know everyone here.

Helped everyone here in some way.

I pause on my manager, Sam. She’s been with us the longest, having come from… well, from the same sort of situation I did.

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