Chapter 7 - The Gathering at Table Twelve
Five minutes later, the back delivery door was closed, locked, and secured with a iron bar.
The three Red Hook enforcers and a weeping Victor Bellamy had been quietly escorted out through the service alley into the back of a blacked-out delivery van, vanishing into the New York rain without a single guest in the dining room noticing a thing.
Inside the kitchen, the line cooks were breathing heavily, staring at Nora as she placed the captured gasoline bottle safely inside a steel hazard bin.
Nora smoothed her white chef’s coat, washed her hands thoroughly at the sink, and looked at her team.
“Is table twelve’s food ready?” she asked calmly.
Leo blinked, then grinned from ear to ear, raising a copper tray. “Ready, Chef! Saffron bouillabaisse, roasted octopus, and pan-seared sea bass with fennel!”
“Let’s serve it,” Nora said.
Nora picked up the heavy porcelain bowl of bouillabaisse herself, stepped through the swinging kitchen doors, and walked into the grand dining room.
The restaurant was buzzing with laughter, light music, and the warm aroma of good food. Nobody knew that forty seconds ago, the entire building had been three inches away from an arson fire.
Nora reached table twelve.
Edward Hale sat in his usual corner booth. He had removed his black overcoat, revealing his sharp grey suit. Sitting across from him, looking thoroughly shaken and sipping a glass of ice water, was her nineteen-year-old brother, Toby.
“Toby!” Nora gasped, setting the tray down on a side stand.
Toby jumped up from the booth, throwing his arms tightly around his sister’s neck. He smelled of rain and college textbooks. “Nora! Mr. Hale’s driver picked me up from my dorm in Queens an hour ago! He told me everything! He said you’re the head chef now!”
Nora held her brother tight, tears pricking her eyes as she squeezed the back of his jacket. “Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?”
“I am completely fine, Sis,” Toby said, pulling back with a huge, bright smile. “Mr. Hale’s men were standing outside my apartment building all day. Nobody came near me.”
Edward gestured toward the open seats in the booth. “Sit down, both of you. The food is getting cold.”
Nora placed the steaming porcelain bowl of bouillabaisse directly in front of Edward, then slid into the booth beside her brother.
Edward picked up his silver spoon, taking a slow, deep bite of the broth. He closed his eyes, savoring the rich blend of star anise, saffron, and fresh fish stock.
When he opened his eyes, he looked at Nora with absolute satisfaction.
“Better than last night,” Edward murmured softly. “You added a bit more thyme.”
“My mother always said thyme should be added when the storm outside is cold,” Nora whispered, a gentle smile touching her lips.
Edward set his spoon down, turning his full, dangerous attention toward the glass window facing the street.
“Dominic Moretti crossed a line tonight, Nora,” Edward said, his voice dropping into a dark, stony register that made the candle flame flicker slightly between them. “Sending gasoline into a kitchen where Madeleine’s daughter works is an insult I will not tolerate.”
“Mr. Hale, please,” Nora said nervously. “Frankie Russo is in custody. Bellamy is gone. Can’t we just let the police handle Dominic?”
Edward let out a soft, dry laugh that lacked any humor. “The police? Dominic owns three captains in the NYPD precincts near the docks. If we give Frankie to the police, he’ll be walking the streets of Red Hook by tomorrow afternoon.”
He looked at Arthur Vance, who had stepped up to the table holding an encrypted leather smartphone.
“Arthur,” Edward commanded smoothly. “Call a sit-down.”
Arthur bowed his head. “Where, Mr. Hale?”
May you like
Edward looked around the warm, glowing dining room of The Black Lantern, his eyes lingering on the golden stars painted across the midnight-blue ceiling.
“Here,” Edward declared softly. “Tomorrow night at midnight. Tell Dominic Moretti that if he wants to settle the Vance family debt once and for all, he will meet me at table twelve. And tell him... if he doesn't show up, I will buy every dock lease in Red Hook by noon on Sunday and tear his warehouse down to the concrete.”
