Page 47 of The Biting Bargain

I perk up, fear slicing through me.

"Police?" I squeak.

"Are you even listening?" You can tell, Grandma is losing whatever was left of her patience. "I’ve been telling you, they came in and busted the entire place up and then everything went up in flames!"

"What?" I jump to my feet. "Who did that?"

"Pollyanna Bukowski, I swear if you keep asking stupid questions I am going to lose it." Grandma screeches. "I’ve told you, the thugs who came in and kicked the shit out of your father were the same who burned down our restaurant, now will you please, for the love of God, come over and help me clean up this mess??"

The line clicks and I stare ahead, my ears ringing.

There’s a noise behind me and I whip my head around. Sure enough, Vincent looms in the doorway to his mysterious next-door room, shooting me a questioning frown.

"What’s wrong?"

Even without his paranormal hearing, Grandma was probably loud enough for him to hear the whole thing. I swallow, my throat tight with panic.

"I need to go home," I croak out. "Please?"

Looks like Balzar’s thugs have come to collect their debt after all.

* * *

My heart is crushedwhen I see the smashed windows. On the asphalt in front of the entrance, the sign is lying in shambles in the rain. "BUKOW" it says. "SKI'S", and "FAMILY" lie dented and shattered a little further away. And no idea where "RESTAURANT" is gone. The air stinks of cold smoke and dampness, and I can hear Grandma's nagging even before I push my way through the front door.

Inside, chaos reigns. Firefighters are tromping back and forth with heavy boots, rolling up hoses and shouting stuff. The floor is soaking wet and covered with white foam. Tables and chairs are scattered all over the place, some of them overturned and busted, and where the bar used to be is just a giant, smoking black stain. In the middle of it all, Grandma is arguing with two policemen, her index finger pointed at them like a sharpened weapon.

"Of course I remember what those guys looked like! I may be old but I'm far from blind!"

She is a force to behold, my Gran. At first glance people tend to underestimate her to be a nice and rather frail old lady, with a kind smile and a knot of snow-white hair towering on her head. Until she opens her mouth and Armageddon comes crashing down on you.

"Grandma!" I touch her arm, interrupting her lecture. The two cops look a little relieved when Gran turns her death glare on someone else.

"About time you showed up!" She holds me at arm's length. "Where the hell have you been?"

"She’s been with me."

Vincent's dark voice ripples through me, and even Gran forgets to be angry for a moment when my new boss appears behind me like a thundercloud.

Gran eyes him suspiciously from top to bottom with surprised interest.

"Gran, where's Dad?" I interrupt her.

"In the back," she growls, not taking her eyes off Vincent. "'Talking to the insurance people on the phone."

I stumble into Dad's office in the back of the restaurant and manage to not throw up with relief. In my frazzled mind, I already saw him in the ICU. Half dead, with tubes and beeping machines and a doctor slowly shaking his head, saying that there was nothing more they could do for him...

"Put me through to your supervisor, you punk!" His bark shatters my disaster fantasy, although Dad does look like he's had a direct confrontation with a steam hammer.

Dad isn't huge, more stocky. He stands hunched over his desk, arms bandaged, face covered with band-aids. His left eye is a battered pulp of blue, and my throat tightens as I notice his completely bandaged nose.

"No, no, no, not the waiting line!!!" he bellows into his cell phone.

With tears pricking my eyes, I throw myself into his arms. Dad blinks his functioning eye in surprise.

"Pumpkin?"

I just sob with relief as he awkwardly hugs me. Dad was never a big hugger.

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