CHAPTER EIGHT MOLLY
CHAPTER EIGHT
MOLLY
I was back in Easter Lanes Sunday afternoon going over what I’d missed from the day before, but one good thing: the key passed.
Yep. I was now the weirdly reluctant owner of ... you know.
We had a copy of the key already, so we were using that one, and Pialto was coming in shortly, so I’d have him take it for a copy of the copy.
Maybe I should have completely changed the locks on the register. But at this point, I didn’t trust even a locksmith coming in to do that job.
The door opened, and assuming it was Pialto, I shouted out without lifting my head, “I’m thinking we should redo our whole system.”
“Since I’m considering a more active ownership role of Easter Lanes, I think that would be a great idea.”
Dread shot down my spine, and I looked up, seeing Ashton walking toward me, taking his very expensive-looking coat off and leaving it on a table as he moved closer to me.
Man. Did he have to look as delicious as he did?
I hated him, like despised him on a cellular level, but I couldn’t deny how seriously good looking he was.
I’d heard rumors he used to model and wasn’t surprised.
His security men were spreading through the place. I watched one giant guy walk toward the back of the bowling lanes, and another dipped into the bathrooms. Another went to the employee staff room. The kitchen. A fourth was checking the booths, walking past where I was standing.
Ashton’s eyebrows went up, and he tilted his head to the side. “Usually you don’t let it be known that you’re plotting someone’s murder while you’re looking at them.”
I flushed, my hands grabbing onto the side of my register as a new wave of humiliation went through me. “Get used to it if you’re—” What had he said? “An active role? What do you mean by that?”
He moved behind the counter, heading to the coffee machine. He lifted the top lid and saw it was empty. “Do you not make coffee? Does this work?”
“What are you doing?” I stepped toward him.
He reached to take the coffeepot out, and I took it from him, putting it back. “Don’t touch that.” I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him.
He ignored me, reaching around me for the pot once again.
“Hey!”
I followed him to the sink, standing to the side as he filled it up and then took it back to the coffee machine. He watched me. “Where do you keep your filters and coffee grounds?”
I opened my mouth, totally ready to tell him where to put his coffee filters when I realized I did need to make some coffee. We had thirty minutes before we needed to open the doors for the day.
I growled but turned and grabbed the coffee and filter. After putting them in place, I hit the brew button and whipped back to Ashton. He hadn’t moved—if anything, he was closer.
I jerked back, hitting the counter, but I didn’t feel it.
I was fully engrossed in how close Ashton was to me. “What are you doing?” My stomach was doing a weird acrobatic performance.
He continued to study me, looking almost captivated, before he muttered something under his breath and moved away.
I frowned. “Why are you here?”
The door opened, the bell jangled, and two more large guys stepped inside.
One began walking around the room as the other approached Ashton.
Of course these guys were Ashton’s. Large.
In charge. The one guy who was talking to Ashton now lifted his head, and I caught a flicker of a grin at the corner of his mouth before he gave a nod and left again.
As if all in sync, the other four guys emerged from the building, and each headed outside.
The other one was still walking around, looking up, down. Pausing. He was studying all the doorways and windows.
“What are they doing?”
Ashton glanced down at me as I stepped next to him. “He’s security detail. Those four will watch outside. These two will be in here.”
I shot him a look. “They go everywhere you go?”
“He’s not mine.” He indicated one of the men.
“Whose then?”
He flashed me a grin, though his eyes were hard. “Yours. For the day, at least.”
He took off, heading to my office, and it took me a minute before I hurried after him.
“Mine?” I went inside as he was at my desk. “Hey!”
He motioned behind me. “Can you get the door?”
I did, then cursed my own self. I was following him around, doing what he said, and for what? This was my place, damn the technicalities. Still, though, I locked the door before stepping behind the desk and behind where he was standing.
I scooted in and used my hip to push him out.
“What are you doing?”
I huffed, putting some extra oomph into my hip. “Moving you.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my office.”
He was looking down at me, his top lip slightly curled up. “Are you having a late reaction to the robbery? Should I take you to the hospital again, get checked out?”
I paused. “What?”
“You’re acting odd.”
My chest swelled up. “I don’t care what you say about my place. This is my place. Mine. I’ve put the work into it. I’ve renovated it. Upgraded it. I have great staff—”
“I doubt you’ve upgraded everything.”
I flushed, ignoring that insult, if it was an insult.
He shifted so he was facing me squarely.
“You paid your father thirty thousand for this bowling alley. Since then, you have turned it around so it is thriving, but you were still conned out of thirty thousand. I’m going to look through your accounts and see where else you made not-smart decisions.
” He started to go around me again, reaching for the computer.
“Agh. Stop.” Dickhead.
I reached for his hands and tried to maneuver myself so I was in his way.
He cursed under his breath before he wrapped his arms around me.
I squealed.
Then he was picking me up, and oomph! I was pressed back against his chest. A tingle shot through me.
He took three steps back and pivoted, and I was placed back on my feet again.
His hands went to my hips, and he urged me in front of him.
“The coffee is almost done. Why don’t you grab both of us a cup so you can cool down? ”
Heat flamed inside of me. “You did not just treat me like I’m the secretary. Who do you think you are—” And I stopped talking because he was fully trying to hold back a laugh, waiting for my reaction.
And, oh god, his whole face transformed.
I had to stop and blink for a beat before my mind caught up with what was happening.
“You’re trying to piss me off.”
“Well, no, but the last comment, yes.” He sat in my chair, and I’d missed when he turned my computer on, but the screen was asking for my password. He motioned to it. “I want to see your books. Let me in.”
I drew back. “No way. I don’t know what you’re going to do in there.”
“Molly.” His voice was low, almost soothing.
I hated it. Or I hated how I should’ve hated it.
He was the enemy.
“What?”
“My first company was in cybersecurity. Did you know that?”
Oooh. Whoa. No. But also not surprising. “I didn’t know that.”
“Me asking for your password was a sign of courtesy. I’m able to get in with or without you.
Let me see your books. Right now it’s under my family’s name, so if the police come in, I need to see what they’re going to see.
That could happen. OC knows this place is connected to my family.
When that criminal came in here, that gave them an opening to actually coming in here themselves. Are you following me?”
“How do I know you won’t plant evidence or something? Or steal from me again?”
“I’m not the one who stole from you.” His eyes flicked upward. “Just open your computer.”
I did, even though my head was yelling at me not to, but what was I going to do here? He was the mob, for freak’s sakes. You didn’t say no to the mob.
I typed in “IHATEASHTONWALDEN23” and stepped back.
“Really?” He gave me a dry look.
“I might’ve changed it this morning.”
He rolled his eyes, moving in and starting to click through my computer, and he was going fast. I looked at these things like they were trying to speak to me in an alien language, but not him. He was an alien.
I was remembering what he’d just said. “You think the police will come and look through my books?”
He never stopped studying the computer screen. “They could, yes.” He paused, glancing at me. “You had no incoming calls last night, and your only visitors were your two employees. Detective Worthing hasn’t tried to talk to you?”
How did he—never mind. “You have my phone tapped?”
“I have a man on you, and he’s able to track who is calling or texting you, yes. We put your cousin in charge yesterday, but even he didn’t try to contact you. Why not? He was told you’d been held up at gunpoint. He wasn’t concerned?”
“Glen and I aren’t really cousins. We were in the same foster house for a while.”
“I’m aware of this, but if you call him your cousin, that implies there’s some form of kinship there. Why didn’t he call to see how you were?”
I shrugged. “He’ll come in today or tomorrow to check on me. He knew if I needed him, I would’ve called. It’s not the first time we’ve dealt with police or being held up at gunpoint. It was just the first time it happened here.”
Hearing voices from the other side of the door, I recognized Pialto’s raised tone. “I’m going to go and make sure P doesn’t murder your man.”
Ashton had gone back to the computer. “Sure. Because that’s the likely scenario. And for the time being, Elijah’s not my man. He’s yours.”
Yeah, yeah. I had no idea what that meant.
Pialto was just inside the doorway, his one hand raised when he saw me. “Who is this? What’s going on?”
I motioned to Elijah. “He’s family to me.”
Elijah was watching me back but didn’t react and only stepped aside.
Pialto smoothed down his shirt and his hair before craning his neck as he walked around Elijah. I motioned to the farthest end of the bar, and we huddled there.
“What is going on?” he hissed.
I hated to say this, but, “Ashton Walden is here.”
His head reared back as he gave me the same look he’d just given Elijah. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Keep your voice down, and no.” I put my finger to my mouth before saying quietly, “I don’t exactly get a say in the matter. He’s here whether I want him to be or not.”
“Where?” He was looking around.
“My office.”
“Your office?!” Another hiss from him.
“Ssshh.” Though, the Elijah guy didn’t seem concerned. He was focused on the door leading to the back exit. “Listen, I know you’re supposed to work, but I don’t want you here—”
“You shut up. You hear me?” So many hisses.
“Sorry. Hush it. I’m not happy about this new development, but we’re family.
We have each other’s backs. If you’re here, I’m here, but again, why is the Mafia guy here?
He’s got a sudden new crush on you or something?
” He held up a hand, stepping back, and his voice rose a little.
“And for the record, I am not down with that development if it happens. You hear me, MissMolly Everly Easter?”
“Okay.” I held up a finger right back. “One, it is so not like that. And two, I don’t want him here either.”
“Good. Then let’s plot to get him out of here. How do we do that?”
All good points. “I have no idea.”
“What does he want?”
Another solid question. “I’m not sure about that either.”
His eyes bulged out, and he let out a frustrated sound. “What do you know that can help in any way?”
“He’s been asking questions about Detective Worthing. I think he’s here because he thinks Worthing will come back.”
“Well, that’s something.”
I nodded.
“Let’s call the detective. Have him come here sooner rather than waiting.” He started to pull his own phone out.
I stopped him.
“What?” He paused on his phone.
“I don’t know. I don’t like cops.” I was not sharing how Ashton had already said he needed me to do something for him.
I was assuming it had something to do with Detective Worthing because the truth was that I was just playing along until I figured out a way to get Easter Lanes fully in my own name.
I had no clue how to do that because I knew going the legal route would not work in this situation.
“You’re friends with one.”
“She wasn’t a cop, and she’s no longer a PO.”
“Still. She was here a lot.”
“I know, I know, but something feels weird. Maybe we should let it all play out how it’s supposed to?”
“Hmmm no. No, no, no. I’ve learned many things in my thirty-three years on this earth, and letting things play out when you know catastrophe is coming your way is not a smart move.
You don’t let it happen organically. You take control and you contain that shit.
” He held his phone up and stepped back.
“Now, you want deniability?” He motioned behind me. “Take a step back and stay busy.”
I groaned. “P.”
“Now, Honey Bunny.” His tone went soft. “Let me do this. It’s better to get both wolves out of our henhouse, if you know what I mean.”
I did not have a good feeling about this. I did not, did not, did not, and I couldn’t get that phrase out of my head as I walked back behind the counter on wooden legs. My whole body locked down, but then the bell jangled above the door again, and I saw the first customers come in for the day.
No matter what, I still had a business to run.