Read Online Trueish Crime: A Kat Makris Greek Mafia Novel by Alex A. King - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alex A. King
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out, capturing footage of the most unexpected part of their vacation. “They used to vomit their food before the next course started.”
Now that he mentioned it, throwing up sounded like an inevitable evolutionary step. But it would have to wait, because Xander jumped out of the chopper and landed on the ground with a visual thud.
“The good news,” I yelled, nodding to the front of Stavros’s pants, “is that you already got rid of your coffee. Again.”
Chapter 6
“ S it .”
I pulled out the kitchen chair, sat, tried not to freak out. The sight of Grandma measuring ingredients into a bowl made me want to hurl.
Grandma’s baking meant one of two things: either she was trying to cope or trying not to explode. Hopefully, if she exploded it wouldn’t be in my direction.
“Somebody had to go see Rabbit,” I said. “You were gone! I had no choice! Okay, I had two choices, but that was the better one. So don’t even think about reprimanding me. If you’d told me what you were up to then I wouldn’t have been there with Stavros and his camera. Also, not to be judgmental, but you broke a man out of prison. That’s not exactly sound decision-making.”
I’d made the mistake of standing mid-rant, after Grandma had commanded me to sit. Grandma wasn’t a woman you defied unless you wanted to wind up standing at the bottom of that hole in Turkey, with a lot of dirt taking a nap on your head.
“And you thought it was best for you to go see him?”
“Who else was there?”
“The whole Family,” Grandma said quietly. “Did it not occur to you that I would not wander off, who knows where, when there might be a clue at last about my son’s whereabouts?”
“You didn’t tell me anything. You left.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you, Katerina. You have one foot out of the cradle. And now thanks to your … zeal, I will have the police asking difficult questions.”
“I told Stavros not to record it.”
“So he told me. I will deal with him later.” She put an uncomfortable amount of weight on the word deal . The range, with Grandma, was impossible to gauge. On the one end was baking, on the other … execution.
I didn’t have the ovaries to ask where on the spectrum this particular deal fell. I was worried she might tell me, and then I’d be forced to do something crazy to plead for my second cousin’s life.
“Go easy on him,” I said. “He was there because of me.”
“You can leave now.”
“Okay …” Where were the threats to send me back home or lock me in the dungeon? Unease hoisted itself onto my shoulders. It wanted a piggyback ride. It expected one.
“I have a lot of baking to do.”
“Okay.”
“And many decisions to make.”
That unease wrapped its hands around my throat and squeezed as it tried to get a better foothold on my spine. Panic pulled out its billows and began to huff and puff at my adrenal glands. I could almost feel the cool breeze above my kidneys as it fanned. Decisions about what?
Then I remembered she had Rabbit here somewhere. Possibly in the dungeon.
“What about Rabbit?”
“What about him?”
“He didn’t send you that box.”
“I never said he did,” Grandma told me. “I told you I knew who made the box.”
The wily old bat was at least one square ahead of me on the chessboard, once again.
“He told me who sent it.”
“Oh, he told you, did he? What name did he give you?”
“The Eagle.”
“The Eagle.” She made a face. Not a very impressed face. Somehow I’d pictured her more excited than this. “You do not think that is strange?”
“Why would it be?”
“You walked in there, a stranger, and he gives up the name.”
“He did ask for a favor.”
“A favor.” The question mark had been hammered flat until it was more like a long, uncomfortable period.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I wrapped it up in conditions. The name for an equal favor.”
“An equal favor.” Her obsidian eyes degraded to flint.
Now that he mentioned it, throwing up sounded like an inevitable evolutionary step. But it would have to wait, because Xander jumped out of the chopper and landed on the ground with a visual thud.
“The good news,” I yelled, nodding to the front of Stavros’s pants, “is that you already got rid of your coffee. Again.”
Chapter 6
“ S it .”
I pulled out the kitchen chair, sat, tried not to freak out. The sight of Grandma measuring ingredients into a bowl made me want to hurl.
Grandma’s baking meant one of two things: either she was trying to cope or trying not to explode. Hopefully, if she exploded it wouldn’t be in my direction.
“Somebody had to go see Rabbit,” I said. “You were gone! I had no choice! Okay, I had two choices, but that was the better one. So don’t even think about reprimanding me. If you’d told me what you were up to then I wouldn’t have been there with Stavros and his camera. Also, not to be judgmental, but you broke a man out of prison. That’s not exactly sound decision-making.”
I’d made the mistake of standing mid-rant, after Grandma had commanded me to sit. Grandma wasn’t a woman you defied unless you wanted to wind up standing at the bottom of that hole in Turkey, with a lot of dirt taking a nap on your head.
“And you thought it was best for you to go see him?”
“Who else was there?”
“The whole Family,” Grandma said quietly. “Did it not occur to you that I would not wander off, who knows where, when there might be a clue at last about my son’s whereabouts?”
“You didn’t tell me anything. You left.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you, Katerina. You have one foot out of the cradle. And now thanks to your … zeal, I will have the police asking difficult questions.”
“I told Stavros not to record it.”
“So he told me. I will deal with him later.” She put an uncomfortable amount of weight on the word deal . The range, with Grandma, was impossible to gauge. On the one end was baking, on the other … execution.
I didn’t have the ovaries to ask where on the spectrum this particular deal fell. I was worried she might tell me, and then I’d be forced to do something crazy to plead for my second cousin’s life.
“Go easy on him,” I said. “He was there because of me.”
“You can leave now.”
“Okay …” Where were the threats to send me back home or lock me in the dungeon? Unease hoisted itself onto my shoulders. It wanted a piggyback ride. It expected one.
“I have a lot of baking to do.”
“Okay.”
“And many decisions to make.”
That unease wrapped its hands around my throat and squeezed as it tried to get a better foothold on my spine. Panic pulled out its billows and began to huff and puff at my adrenal glands. I could almost feel the cool breeze above my kidneys as it fanned. Decisions about what?
Then I remembered she had Rabbit here somewhere. Possibly in the dungeon.
“What about Rabbit?”
“What about him?”
“He didn’t send you that box.”
“I never said he did,” Grandma told me. “I told you I knew who made the box.”
The wily old bat was at least one square ahead of me on the chessboard, once again.
“He told me who sent it.”
“Oh, he told you, did he? What name did he give you?”
“The Eagle.”
“The Eagle.” She made a face. Not a very impressed face. Somehow I’d pictured her more excited than this. “You do not think that is strange?”
“Why would it be?”
“You walked in there, a stranger, and he gives up the name.”
“He did ask for a favor.”
“A favor.” The question mark had been hammered flat until it was more like a long, uncomfortable period.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I wrapped it up in conditions. The name for an equal favor.”
“An equal favor.” Her obsidian eyes degraded to flint.
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