Reaper (Valhalla Rising MC #3)

6. Kyra

6

Kyra

“ I ’m sorry, but I can’t stay late.”

I sigh as I watch Jenny walk away. The day after Megan let me know she was moving, I held a staff meeting at Night and Day to discuss schedules. Jenny is a great waitress and told me that her schedule was flexible and that she didn’t mind having longer hours.

Problem is, she hasn’t been the least bit flexible in the week since that meeting.

“Dammit!” I pound my fist on the counter, garnering the attention of the few customers lingering after the lunch hour.

“Problem?” Barry asks from behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to face him and force a smile. “No.”

“You could always adjust the hours,” he offers.

“We make the majority of our profits during dinner time,” I remind him. “Sure, I could open late and only serve those meals, but that won’t solve the problem. I still don’t have a babysitter for Heidi and Hunter.”

“It’s not like you haven’t brought them to work before.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “And since when are you on board with that? You hate when they’re here.”

Barry rubs his gut. “No, I don’t. I hate that you even have to do it. But never that they’re here.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, you’re in a bind right now. You do what you gotta do.”

“What I need is more customers, so I have more money to hire another babysitter,” I snap. “Or, hell, here’s a thought… I need my twins to have a different father.”

With that, I storm to my office, slamming the door behind me. Flopping down in my chair, I let the tears fall. I swear, I don’t normally let my emotions get the best of me, but lately, the hits keep coming. This restaurant and my kids are my world, but everything seems to be crashing down around me at the same time, and I can't seem to claw my way out of the rubble.

After a few minutes, a knock on the door startles me. “Come in.”

Barry enters, and he’s got his jacket on. “It’s slow out there, and Jenny’s here for another hour before her shift ends. I’m gonna go pick up the kids from school and bring them back here.”

“Wait,” I say as he starts to back out of the room. “Who’s gonna cook while you’re gone?”

“The school is only five minutes away. If we get any customers while I’m gone, they can wait.”

Yeah, cause that’s not bad for business.

Those aren’t the words that come out of my mouth though. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Barry shrugs. “Look, I need this job as much as you need the diner to work. The wife wants to take a cruise, and that shit’s expensive. Far as I can tell, that puts us in the same boat which means we need to stick together.”

Barry retired from corporate America right before he came on at Night and Day. When I questioned why he’d want to be a short-order cook, he said that other than his nine-to-five, that’s all he knew from years of raising kids. There was also mention of he and his wife killing each other if they had to spend all day every day together, but that’s just Barry. He loves his family and will do anything for his wife… even working at a failing diner if it means affording her the luxuries that his pension doesn’t quite cover.

“Right,” I mutter. “Barry, I’m pretty sure you’re on a yacht, while I’m on a dinghy with a hole in the bottom.”

“I’ll be back, boss.”

He disappears into the short hallway, and I take a minute to collect myself before returning to the dining area. The place has cleared out, and there’s not a customer in sight. Jenny and I silently clean until the bell over the front door dings.

I glance up from the invisible stain I’m attacking on the Formica, and fear skates along my spine. Five men dressed in all black with masks over their faces enter, each of them carrying baseball bats.

Reaching for my own bat that we keep under the counter, my mind races.

“Hands where I can see them!” one of the men orders while the rest of his crew smashes anything and everything they can.

I lift my hands up, and Jenny does the same from her position at one of the back booths.

“Good. Now,” he snarls. “You’re gonna give me all the money you have, and we’ll be on our way.”

My brain screams at me to comply, but the desperate single mom and business owner in me overrides all common sense.

“I don’t fucking think so,” I snap.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

He stomps closer and reaches across the counter to backhand me across the face. Pain radiates from my cheekbone, and I do my best to ignore it.

“Give me the money.”

I stare the man down, doing my best to memorize anything I can about him. It’s difficult considering he’s mostly covered up, but his eyes… cold, hard, dark, and deadly.

“I said,” he seethes. “Gimme the damn money!”

“C’mon, boss,” Jenny pleads. “It’s not like there’s a lot there.”

I cut my eyes to her and glare, silently demanding she shut up. She must get the hint because she presses her lips together.

“Dude, she’s not gonna give it up,” the man guarding her says. “Time to force her hand.”

Fear skitters down my spine. What the fuck does that even mean?

The ass who hit me starts to make his way around the counter, his prowl reminding me of a predator stalking its prey.

This can’t be happening.