Chapter 83: Lunch at the Bistro

Behind the counter, the cashier held onto the edge of the register to steady herself.

"It was a customer, Lieutenant," she stammered, pointing toward the floor. "A guy in a charcoal suit. When the first robber pulled a knife on a girl by the coolers, he came in from the sidewalk, took him down, and broke several beer bottles over his head."

Lola Grant looked down at the first suspect groaning in the mess of beer and broken glass, then glanced at the man lying unconscious beside him.

"Bottles explain the first one," Lola said, frowning. "What about the second one? What did he hit him with to break every bone in his hand?"

The cashier swallowed hard. "He didn’t use a tool, Lieutenant. The big guy threw a punch, and the man in the suit caught it with his bare hand and squeezed."

"Caught it and squeezed?" Lola repeated, skeptical. "You’re telling me someone crushed his hand with their bare fingers?"

One of the patrolmen behind Lola laughed. "Nobody breaks a hand like that just by squeezing."

"I was standing right here," the cashier insisted. "He crushed his hand, took the knife from him, drove it into the floorboards, and twisted the blade. Look at the floor."

The patrolmen stopped talking.

They looked down at the blade twisted in the wood.

Bending tempered steel like that without tools didn’t add up, but the cashier was serious.

"Call EMS to transport both under guard to Bellevue. Sergeant, pull the hard drive from the back office... let’s see the footage."

2 minutes later, the sergeant came back from the office.

"Drive is dead, Lieutenant. A stray bottle hit the electrical box above the counter during the scuffle and shorted the system. We’ll have to send it to the forensics lab downtown to recover the file."

Lola exhaled and looked back at the cashier. "What did the man look like?"

"Mid-20s, around 6-foot-2, well dressed," the cashier said. "Charcoal suit, no logos. Drove off in a black sports car that sounded like an aircraft engine, and left with a student carrying a violin case."

Lola stopped.

Mid-20s. Charcoal suit. A black hypercar...

Every detail matched Jude Lawson.

Impossible, Lola thought. Jude was a financier and an investor; an hour earlier at the waterfront, he had called her unit to handle 30 men. How could someone in asset management overpower two armed robbers like that?

"Bag the hard drive and send it downtown," Lola directed. "Have the lab reconstruct that video as soon as possible."

...

20 blocks south, the black Koenigsegg Jesko pulled into the midtown lunch district.

In the passenger seat, Sophie turned toward Jude, holding her violin case on her lap. "Mr. Lawson, you weren’t completely honest earlier."

Jude glanced over. "How so?"

"On the way to the site, you said you didn’t know how to fight," Sophie said, watching him. "You were holding back. When that second guy stepped in, you handled him immediately."

Jude gave a faint smile.

Before taking the serum, he hadn’t lied; he had relied on timing..

Still, explaining an internal system interface to a conservatory student was out of the question...

"In business, letting people know what you’re capable of just invites complications," Jude said evenly. "Let’s keep what happened in the store between us. Fair?"

"I won’t say a word," Sophie agreed, nodding.

After a moment, she looked at him again. "Where did you learn to do that? I thought bending steel like that only happened in movies."

Jude kept his expression neutral. "Spent time in high-altitude conditioning with a private instructor years ago. Basic resistance work."

"Sounds like an old discipline routine," Sophie said, taking his explanation at face value.

Jude kept his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, making a conscious effort to regulate his grip so he didn’t put unnecessary pressure on the trim.

A minute later, Jude parked outside a popular midtown bistro.

As the doors lifted, Sophie stepped onto the sidewalk, immediately drawing the attention of a muscular man loitering near the entrance.

Standing 6-foot-3 in an athletic tank top, he stopped chewing his toothpick and stepped into her path with his phone in hand.

"Afternoon," he said, blocking the way. "Put your number in. Let’s get a drink later."

Sophie stopped, her expression souring.

After the gate confrontation and the convenience store, she was out of patience.

"No thank you," Sophie said, stepping to the side to walk past.

The man stepped in front of her again, his smile pushy. "Come on, don’t walk off. Give a guy a minute."

Behind him, 4 other men in athletic wear stepped out from the patio, laughing and watching the scene.

"Please move," Sophie said, annoyed.

"Is there an issue, Sophie?"

Jude walked around the front of the car, stopping beside her.

"Do you know him?" Jude asked.

"No, Mr. Lawson. Never seen him."

Jude looked at the man. "She doesn’t know you. Clear the walkway."

The man looked Jude up and down, then glanced past him at the black hypercar idling by the curb. His expression tightened with irritation.

"Another trust-fund kid," the man sneered, playing to his friends. "Driving around in daddy’s car, thinking you can jump in on every conversation."

"The company belongs to me, not a family trust," Jude said calmly. "Though my accounts aren’t your concern. Step out of the door."

"Made it yourself at your age? Sure," the man scoffed, planting his feet in the entrance. "I’m still talking to her. Wait your turn."

Jude looked at him, unimpressed. "Stopping people on the sidewalk to demand phone numbers... do you think that usually works?"

The man stepped forward, squaring his shoulders to emphasize his size. "Look at the frame. 240 pounds of work. You really think she’s interested in a guy in a suit over someone who actually trains?"

His friends chuckled from the steps. Next to the lifter’s wide frame, Jude looked like any other professional coming from an office.

Jude’s expression stayed flat.

"She already said no to you on the sidewalk," Jude noted. "And she’s walking inside to have lunch with me."

The laughter from the patio stopped immediately. The man’s smirk vanished, his jaw clenching as his friends looked on in silence.