Desolation Road (Torpedo Ink 4)

“All right then. We’ll just wait. I’ve brought food. We might as well eat it. They’re eating slow so it’s going to be a while.”

Absinthe eyed her warily. “Did you cook? Buy it? Or did Alena provide it for you?”

Lana glared at him. “Just for that I’m not sharing with you. I’m quite capable of putting a meal together. I can make a sandwich. I’ve been around Alena since we were babies. And Blythe is always in the kitchen cooking for her demon children.”

Absinthe smiled. “That means Alena sent you food. You planned on spying on me.”

“Well, naturally.” Lana didn’t bother to try to hide her intentions. “Your protection is placed above all else, even my own comfort, brother.”

He rolled his eyes when she flashed a little smirk at him and sauntered away, making certain to keep out of sight of that very large window that gave Scarlet the ability to see the parking garage and the front of the sweeping, overgrown garden.

He stayed low, fitting the powerful binoculars back to his eyes once more, and studied his little librarian. She seemed at ease, carrying the conversation as the waiter brought salads. Josefa pushed her greens around on her plate while Scarlet ate and talked animatedly, occasionally waving her fork around to emphasize a point she was making. He watched her very carefully just as he had for the last six weeks. He knew her every expression. She appeared relaxed, attentive to the woman across from her, but in reality, she was on alert, watchful, even more so than when she was at the library and always so careful to stay away from the windows.

Scarlet didn’t like exposure, but nevertheless, she was putting herself in the position. Once again, he swept the restaurant looking for clues, anything that might tell him what she was up to. He examined the parking garage and the street below. He tried to see what he could of everything that Scarlet might be able to see. By the time Lana had made her way back, he was more convinced than ever that the only reason Scarlet had chosen the restaurant was for the location, so that she could be noticed and remembered.

The moment Lana opened the picnic basket he knew Alena had been the one to not only do the cooking but also the packing. The aroma was so incredible his stomach growled. Lana laughed at him. Two plates and glasses were included along with real silverware and napkins. Alena always planned for everything. Absinthe was certain she could manage a seven-course meal in a picnic basket if you asked her for one. This one had one of Lana’s favorites, a pork roast stuffed with cheese and tomatoes, that Alena had created from a recipe she’d adapted from their childhood memories of home. There was homemade bread, all warm from her hot packs, and plenty of butter and honey to put on the bread. She had included roasted potatoes and beets, which happened to be a favorite of his.

“That girl is brilliant.” He accepted the lion’s share of the pork, fanned out like a book, without even raising minimal protest. It was that good, and Lana would have given it to him anyway.

Lana heaved a pretend sigh. “Isn’t she? It doesn’t leave much left over for me to do. She’s good at everything.”

Absinthe looked up from his plate of food, fork halfway to his mouth. Lana’s voice was filled with amusement, but her eyes weren’t at all.

“Babe, that’s ridiculous. You’re good at everything too.”

Lana’s smile lost all pretense of humor. “Actually, I’m not. Not at the things Czar wants for us now. I’m good at killing. I’m fast, efficient and accurate. I can seduce the socks off anyone, even someone who thinks they see it coming. I’m good at cards. The things I need to be successful at in a different life, like Blythe and Anya—or even Breezy, and she was born into the life—I’m no good at.”

Absinthe wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. He didn’t dare. Lana had too many demons. They all did. He couldn’t take them all on. Already, the ones he had were eating him alive. He couldn’t keep adding more. She wouldn’t let him anyway. The moment he gave her too much sympathy, she’d turn away from him.

“You choose all the furniture because you can make us feel as if we have a home when we sit in it no matter where we are. You know that.”

She shrugged. “I suppose there is a use in that, but how often do we buy furniture?”

“Lana, we’re all learning. It takes time.”

“I’m not certain what we’re supposed to be learning,” she said, sounding serious. “I’m not ever going to be able to cook like Blythe, and no one can cook like Alena. That’s one of her many gifts. We all know that.”