Running Hot (Page 53)

Running Hot (The Arcane Society #5)(53)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“Now there’s an appetizing visual,” Luther said. “Do they talk like that on the cooking channel?”

“Damned if I know,” Petra said. “I didn’t learn to cook by watching the cooking channel.”

“Well, hey, I’m just the bartender,” Luther said. “I sure don’t want to slow down the process in here. I’ll leave you two to get on with the preparation of your culinary art.”

He winked at Grace and went back through the swinging doors.

Petra glared at the doors. “What the hell is culinary art?”

“Cooking,” Grace said.

“Oh, yeah, right. I knew that.”

“Where did you learn to cook?” Grace asked, curious.

“Wayne and I hired us a real cook when we bought the place. Watched him for a while. By the time he quit—and sooner or later they all quit—I figured I could handle the kitchen. No big trick to it. So long as you put the food in the fryer or throw it on a grill, folks will eat it. Fact of life.”

“I can see there’s a real emphasis on healthy, organic cooking here at the Dark Rainbow. How did Luther come to join the staff ?”

“After he moved to Waikiki, he found his way here like the rest of the regulars. Started coming in occasionally for a beer and sometimes a meal. On quiet nights we got to talking. You know how it is. Strong sensitives usually recognize each other.”

“Yes,” Grace said, thinking back to that day on the concourse when she first saw Luther. “I know.”

“We had some things in common. He’d been a cop and he was doing some contract work for J&J. Wayne and me, we’d done something along the same lines. None of us had any family to speak of. Guess you could say the three of us sort of understood each other.”

“You formed your own family.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“But how did Luther get involved in the business?” she asked.

“After a while it came out that me and Wayne were having some problems here. There was a lot of drug dealing in the alley out back and some of the low-rent hookers had started hanging out in the bar. We had a few fights break out. Police started showing up a lot. Disturbed the regulars. They stopped coming around. All in all, we were going under. Luther fixed a few things.”

“How?”

“Let’s just say he got rid of some pesky problems. The regulars returned and we’ve been okay ever since.”

Grace smiled. “Another practical application of Luther’s talent?”

“Told you, that talent of his does come in handy once in a while.”

THIRTY-TWO

Crazy Ray seemed a little more agitated than usual. Luther sent a soothing pulse of energy his way before he urged him out the door along with the handful of remaining customers.

Ray went outside, trailing the others, but he stopped just beyond the entrance and looked back at Luther.

“You be careful tonight,” he said.

Ray rarely emerged from his paranoid world long enough to produce a coherent sentence. Luther nodded, letting him know that he had gotten the message and would take it seriously.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”

Ray vanished into the shadows.

Wayne appeared behind Luther’s shoulder. “What was that about?”

“Just Ray being Ray. He warned me to be careful.”

“Probably picked up on the vibes the rest of us are giving off. We’re all a little jacked tonight because we’re watching over Grace.”

Luther thought about the occasional icy tingles he’d been experiencing all evening.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go get some of Milly’s soup. It’s been a long night.”

“Damn tourists.”

“This is Waikiki, Wayne. You’ve got to expect that occasionally a few tourists will find us.”

“Maybe we should put up a sign.”

“ ‘No Tourists Allowed’? Somehow I don’t think the Visitors and Convention Bureau would approve.”

By the time they had finished the bowls of udon, Grace was yawning.

“When this is over, I’m going to write a self-help book titled How to Build Stamina and Lose Weight Washing Dishes and Frying Stuff Eight Hours a Day,” she announced.

“You’ve been living the soft life in the Bureau of Genealogy for a year,” Petra said. “You’re out of shape.”

“I know.” Grace stretched. “But it’s like riding a bicycle. It’s all coming back to me.” She sniffed the sleeve of her shirt and wrinkled her nose. “Including the smell. Funny how the scent of fried fish permeates your clothes.”

“You get used to it,” Wayne said.

“Time to go home,” Luther said. “I’ll get the Jeep and meet you out front.”

The routine had been established after consultation with Wayne and Petra. Under the circumstances, no one thought it was a good idea for Grace to be walking back to the Sunset Surf Apartments late at night even if she was accompanied by a bodyguard. The plan was simple. Luther parked the Jeep in a nearby garage. After the Rainbow closed for the evening, Wayne and Petra stayed with Grace at Milly’s place while he went to get the vehicle.

He walked toward the garage, cane tapping on the sidewalk, and thought about the rest of the new nightly routine. Within twenty minutes he would be back at the condo with Grace and they would both tumble into bed together. Maybe they would make love if she wasn’t too exhausted. Afterward she would press close to him and fall asleep in his arms. In the morning they would sleep late. When they woke up, they would make coffee and slice some fresh papaya.

He could definitely get used to this routine. Hell, he was already so deeply into it that he did not want it to end.

There were still a fair number of people on Kuhio. At the end of the block he turned up his senses, rounded the corner and went down the narrow street toward the old hotel garage. The hotel had been closed for a couple of years. It’s upper windows were boarded up and the pool was covered. A nightclub had recently opened on what had been the first floor. It was operating at full volume tonight. The hard rock pounded into the night, accompanied by the roar of a crowd fueled by alcohol and a day at the beach.

The garage was full, thanks to the club patrons. He walked toward the far end where he had parked the Jeep, automatically watching for the flash of an aura in the dark canyons between vehicles. The deep thunder of the music spilled through every opening in the concrete walls and cascaded down the stairwell.