Crucible Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 5) (18 page)

“Watch that dwarf! I’ll head after the ogre.”

Flathead barely nodded as I darted down the hallway and back toward the geodes.

27

A ray of light crept across my face, and I cracked an eyelid. The plaster of my ceiling stared back at me with cold disinterest. I turned my head and glanced at the floor. My bed frame cast less of a shadow than usual.

With knowledge of the sun’s position fresh in mind, I closed my eye, but my stomach growled in disapproval. Apparently it thought I should get up, and seeing as my gut was one of my most significant decision making organs, I obeyed.

I pulled myself out of the covers and shifted my feet over the side of the bed. I blinked and stretched, favoring my right arm ever so slightly, but other than the bruise I’d received when I’d struck the satellite display, I didn’t have a scratch on me.

I still couldn’t believe my luck, and not just in regards to the timing of Bonesaw’s appearance. His all brawn, no brain, smash-and-grab approach had wrecked havoc on the guards, sending them running around like chickens with their heads cut off. By following in his wake, I’d managed to get down from the second floor, out the Metro’s front doors, and into the night’s welcoming arms by doing nothing more than shouting a few orders and projecting an air of urgency. But the real miracle had been the utter ease with which I’d delivered the brooch to Cobb. Given Ted’s question about re-theft of the prizes, I was sure he’d be after me with blood on his mind in a New Welwic minute, but I saw neither hide nor hair of the dwarf on my trip back to the empty lot. Either my knee had put him to sleep for longer than I’d thought or his unique
abilities
didn’t help him much in the tracking department.

Of course, giving Ted the slip didn’t mean I was out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination. Cobb, though pleased, had been tight-lipped after my delivery of the brooch, and though he said his
organization
would be in contact with me, I got the feeling I was far from being inducted into the Wyverns’ ranks.

There was also the problem of my identity. Cauliflower Ear and Flathead had seen my badge, but at least in that respect I had a fighter in my corner. The Metro would undoubtedly try to keep the theft under wraps to save face. In the meantime, they’d go to the police. Specifically, they’d head to the 5
^th
Street Precinct to get my help. I just hoped the Captain could hold them off and cover for me until I finished my investigation.

I got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where I made myself a pot of coffee. With a mug in my hand and my stomach making itself known, I stared into my pantry, trying to decide upon a plan of action.

I sighed. The only problem with having groceries on hand was that you still had to
cook
them to turn them into a meal.

After a few moments of contemplation, laziness and a fear of the culinary unknown won me over. I transferred my coffee to a thermos, grabbed my leather jacket, and headed for the door.

I jerked it open and jumped, but at least I didn’t yelp, the same of which I can’t say for the person who stood there.

Shay, dressed in a cowl neck sweater, slim wool trench coat, and flared slacks, pulled her hand back from the door. She pressed it to her heart as she exhaled. “Good heavens, Daggers. You frightened me.”

I blinked. “Steele. What are you doing here?”

She lifted her other hand, which I only now realized held a hefty brown paper bag. Delicious smells wafted from its lips—nothing I could discern, but something packed with spices. “I
was
bringing lunch, at least until you scared me half to death. I figured you’d be home, so…” She smiled and shrugged.

“As a matter of fact, I was just heading out to get something to eat.” I smiled back. “You know, I’m not sure if I should be thankful you thought of me or disappointed that I’m so predictable. I’m leaning toward the former.”

“As you should be.” Steele glanced at my thermos. “I noticed you said
something to eat
and not lunch. You, uh…just waking up?”

“You’re too good of a detective for your own good, you know that?” I waved her in. “Come on. Make yourself at home.”

Steele entered my abode and shrugged out of her outerwear. “Does that mean I should track mud all over the place and leave dishes and clothes wherever I please?”

I snorted as I shut the door. “You know as well as I do that expression means you should act as you would in
your own
home, not as I would. Besides, your basic premise is flawed.” I waved a hand at my living room as I took her coat.

Shay tracked my gesture and followed it with a hint of a smile. “So all it takes for you to clean up is mandatory administrative leave? I can see why your wife left you.”

I slammed an imaginary knife into my heart and twisted it as I hung her coat on a brass rack. “The things boredom will do to a man. I even stocked the pantry. I think that hasn’t happened since before the new mayor’s administration took over.”

Shay gave me a sideways look while she rummaged in my kitchen for silverware. “Have you even lived in this apartment that long?”

“Exactly.” I settled myself at my round dining table, barely big enough for two. Some might call it small. I thought of it as cozy—and cheap, which had been a bigger selling point. “So what did you bring?”

“Something a little different,” she said as she joined me. “I think you’ll like it though.”

I opened my mouth and lifted a finger, then retraced my steps.

Shay eyed me as she opened the paper bag. “I saw that.”

“And I stopped myself before I said anything. Besides, it smells good.” I nodded toward the bag as I set my thermos down. “So?”

Shay pulled out a pair of cardboard fold-top boxes. “Chicken masala with fresh baked flat breads. And not a vegetable in sight.”

“Probably because they’re in the sauce.”

Shay smirked. “Who’s too good of a detective for their own good, now?”

I opened my box, and a wave of savory smells overtook me: garlic and cumin and coriander and chilies. Big fat chunks of chicken, charred black and brown, dripped with thick orange sauce. My mouth watered. I took a bite.

“So?” said Steele.

I chewed and swallowed. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

My candor and graciousness surprised her, but less than it once might’ve.

After a couple minutes of silent rumination during which I completely housed my chicken and roughly half of the flatbread, I broke the ice. “So how’s the investigation going?”

Steele took a more measured approach with her lunch. She gave me an evil grin over a forkful of orange-slicked poultry. “Didn’t weasel all you wanted from Rodgers and Quinto yesterday, I assume?”

“Oh. You heard about that.”

Shay waved her chicken around. “Of course I did. You think those two could keep their mouths shut?”

“What did the Captain have to say about that?” I asked.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell him, and neither did Quinto and Rodgers. Lucky for you.”

I wiped a triangular piece of bread through the remains of my sauce. “You haven’t addressed my first question though.”

“Because the Captain said not to.”

Chicken into mouth. Steele chewed. Gods, she could even make that look sexy.

I tested my luck. “Not precisely. Unless I’m mistaken, the Captain only said I was off the case—meaning I couldn’t take part in the investigation or help you and the gang out. I never heard him say anything about not keeping me up to date on your progress.”

“Actually, he addressed that specifically in our meeting a couple days ago. No schmoozing with Daggers, he said.”

“Did he, now?” I lifted a brow. “Maybe he meant it more in the self-promotional sense than the gossip one. Like, no taking advantage of Daggers’ absence to advance your station at work.”

Shay lifted an eyebrow. “You’re trying a grammatical approach? How desperate are you?”

“I’m like a teenage boy on the verge of getting a girl’s shirt off for the first time.”

That metaphor didn’t go over well. I tried a different strategy. “You know Rodgers and Quinto gave me an update. You wouldn’t want to seem like a stick in the mud compared to those two, would you?”

“Daggers…”

“Seriously, what happened to you? You used to be cool.”

“If I give you something, will you shut up?” A miffed glare accompanied Steele’s statement.

I leaned back in my chair, hiding my smug smile. “I’m all ears.”

Shay speared another cube of chicken. “We’re making progress with Barrett. After going through the West and Smith shipping invoices with a fine-toothed comb, we used the inconsistencies to track down a pair of shipping containers that shouldn’t have been on site.”

I sat up a little straighter. “And? What was in them?”

Shay shook her head. “Nothing. At least…
almost.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shay nibbled at her poultry. “You snuck a look at Cairny’s initial report on your ex-partner. Do you remember the substance she found on his shoes?”

It took me a second to remember it. “What? The ash?”

“We found a match for it in the shipping containers.”

I blinked, but I didn’t understand the connection.

Steele read me like an open book. “Yeah, your guess is as good as mine.”

I shook it off. “What else can you tell me about Barrett?”

Shay averted her eyes. “We’re working on it.”

“And Griggs?” I asked.

“Sorry, Daggers. I’m not going there. I know you. On the outside, you’re tough and leathery—”

What a compliment…

“—and honestly you seem to be handling this all very well, but on the inside, you’re soft and gooey, like a…”

“Jelly donut?” I offered.

“Close enough.”

“Can you at least tell me if you have any leads?” I asked.

Shay shook her head. “All I can tell you is we haven’t yet been able to account for Griggs’ whereabouts for the last three days of his life. Other than that…we’re working on it.”

I sighed and reached for my thermos. As I brought it to my lips, I hesitated. “I never offered you a beverage.”

Shay looked up. “No, you didn’t.”

“I don’t have much besides coffee,” I said. “But I could make tea.”

“Sounds lovely.” A warm smile followed.

I rose and headed toward the kitchen, but a flash of white distracted me. Another note had been slid under my door.

I retrieved it and took a peek.

“Everything okay?” asked Steele.

I pocketed the thing and retuned to the kitchen. “Yeah, sorry. Fumigation notice from the landlord. Chamomile or black?”

“Black, please.”

I brewed the tea. We chatted for a good fifteen minutes after it finished steeping, and I’m sure it would’ve been longer if not for work’s persistent call. As I walked Shay to the door, I briefly considered asking her about her evening plans, but I couldn’t. Never mind the status of our relationship—I had a more dangerous date booked for the night.

28

I cracked the door. Thankfully it didn’t squeak. I slipped in and closed it behind me, pausing. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but not long. A lantern burned in the distance, creating a halo of light and birthing ominous shadows from the giant pieces of machinery and heavy chains that hung from the ceiling.

The machine closest to me was about twice as wide as my outstretched arms and double my height. It featured an enormous gear with notched teeth attached to a smaller wheel by a thick, leather strap. Below those lay a pair of massive, flat plates, each of them inches thick and solid steel, by their looks. Though I’d never paid much attention in shop class, I was fairly sure it was an industrial stamping machine.

In the distance, I spotted rotary saws with sharp, wicked teeth. Stacks of sheet metal rested on their sides in heavy racks. Near the front of the warehouse—I’d entered through a side door—I spotted products close to completion. Large metal boxes with corrugated sides. Shipping containers.

Were the Wyverns involved in this business, too? I supposed they must’ve been, as why else would they have brought me here, but it made sense. To be successful at keeping their smuggling efforts underground for so long, they must’ve controlled their entire supply chain. If I had to bet, I’d say the shipping crates Steele found at West and Smith had been fabricated here, which in turn meant the warehouse might be the source of Cairny’s mysterious ash.

Griggs.
He might’ve been here. There might still be evidence. I needed to keep my eyes open.

A shadow passed between the lantern and me, and I disappeared into the dark shroud provided by the stamping machine. I had much to chew on, much to digest, but I couldn’t let it overwhelm me. I had other business to take care of first, as well as a debt to repay.

I crept between the machinery in the direction of the lantern, always sticking to the shadows. I kept my footsteps light and my breath measured, slipping ever closer to the lantern and the enormous form who stood near it, arms crossed and with his back to me.

“Evening, sunshine,” I said.

Bonesaw jumped. I was glad to see he wasn’t immune to fright, despite his size.

He turned and snarled as he saw me. “Baggers? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I’ll bet,” I said as I slid into the light. “Where’s Kyra?”

“Kyra?” said Bonesaw. “What do you think this is? Orientation?”

I stretched my eyebrows. Maybe I’d given Bonesaw too much credit in regards to his mental faculties.

As evidence of that, a slender elven form emerged from the shadows opposite the lantern and answered in a sultry voice.

“I like to show up fashionably late to parties.” Kyra, again dressed in skin-tight leather pants but with a different jacket, gave me a wink. “No offense, Baggers, but I was expecting, ah…
Ted.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Bonesaw threw a huge ogre-shaped wrench into his and my plans, both,” I said. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t come after me more than he did. Nice artwork, by the way.”

“You liked my calling card?” asked Kyra.

“I’m a red-blooded male in my prime,” I said. “Of course I did.”