Chapter Nineteen
Raven
I can’t believe Remy agreed to go along with my plan. He brought me home and because I was tipsy, he carried me out of the elevator and into bed. Next thing I know, I’m waking up the next morning with a nice little headache and a glass of water and two acetaminophens by the side of the bed.
I also find a note from Remy letting me know that he’s at the gym, a security guard is outside the private elevator on the ground floor, and he’ll be home in time for us to go to work.
While he’s gone, I shower and make myself a breakfast of scrambled eggs and hash browns, then hole up in Remy’s room, reading a book on the Kindle app of my phone.
When he arrives home, he stops by where I’m curled in his recliner, and he pauses to kiss me long and hard.
“You might want to get ready for work. You got your wish. Operation Bait Lance begins today.” And on the way to the bar, he lays out the details worked out between himself, Zach, and mostly Garrett.
I owe the detective a huge thank you for taking his own personal time to help me out.
Once at work, Remy sticks to me like glue, as in, he doesn’t disappear into his office at all. No doubt he fears me going outside while he’s unaware.
When I take the garbage out back for the first time since Lance’s release, my heart pounds hard in my chest. But I know that Remy has worked fast, having cameras installed first thing this morning to watch the alley, and out front, as well.
Money buys whatever you need, whenever you need it, something I learned from the Kanes.
But in this case, Remy is doing it to protect me and I’m grateful.
Remy remains close by as I step outside into the fresh air alone, tossing the trash and stalling for a little while.
I don’t know where security is located, just that there are eyes on me, which helps me stay calm.
When there’s no sign of Lance, I return inside to find Remy waiting, jaw clenched, fists curled and every muscle in his body tight.
Another time, I walk a delivery person out the door, for no reason other than to see if my stalker brother is lurking where there are more crowds.
Unaware of the plan, Stevie joins me a minute later and we talk for a while before going back inside.
Again, no Lance. And Remy is sitting at a table next to the window overlooking the sidewalk, his tension high.
I have no doubt Lance is around, either waiting and watching, or trying to make me nervous. Either way, he’s doing a fine job by staying under the radar. But it’s only been half a day. For all I know, this could go on for a long while. I don’t know how I’ll survive the anticipation, but I will.
By the time the dinner crowd disperses and we’re into the evening happy hour, Remy remains on a barstool, driving the servers crazy, micromanaging the night.
Paul, our head bartender, pulls me aside. “What’s going on with the boss? Why is he watching over us? Does he have trouble with our work?” he asks for all the servers, his brow furrowed in concern.
I shake my head and sigh. “Not at all. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.” I push aside the iPad and scheduling app I’ve been working on and walk over to where Remy sits.
“Can we talk?” I ask.
He looks me over, as if reassuring himself I’m fine. “Sure.” He rises to his feet and I lead him to his private office and close the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?”
“This can’t go on, you sitting out front, watching over everyone, questioning their work. They’re worried and when employees are worried, they make mistakes. Drop dishes. Serve the wrong drink.” All things that have happened today. Before he can reply, I tell him to sit.
To my surprise, he listens, lowering himself into a chair in front of his desk. The seat doesn’t have arms.
I walk over and straddle him, sitting down on his thighs, my pussy settled over his hard cock.
“What are you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Trying to relax you before everyone who works for you walks out all at once.” I rock my hips and arousal winds its way through my veins.
He braces his hands on my hips and lifts me off him, setting me on my feet. “Not walking around like that all night. Save it until we get home.” His eyes are dark with desire. “But point taken. I’m driving the staff insane. You tell me how to watch over you, then?”
The concern in his voice wraps itself around my heart. It’s something I’ve always wanted to feel.
“How about this? I promise I won’t leave the bar to do anything without letting you know first. I swear.”
He nods. “I’ll accept that.”
I sigh in relief. “There’s another reason I brought you in here.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
Rising onto my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck. “You didn’t give me a chance to thank you for allowing this. I knew it wouldn’t happen if you shut down the idea. So thank you,” I say and press my lips to his.
I love you, Remy Sterling, I think, not saying the words out loud. I promise myself that once Lance is out of my life, those will be the first words I say to this special man.
* * *
Remy
One week passes, then another. After the first seven days, Garrett goes back to work, stopping in daily on his lunch hour so Raven can take trips to her favorite coffee shop and an old-fashioned bookstore that’s still in existence.
No sign of Lance. A rookie friend of Garrett’s replaces him when he needs to work, and on the nights Raven has poetry slam he follows at a discreet distance. Not even I clock his tail.
The longer this goes on, the more frustrated both Raven and I become, to the point where we’re snapping at one another instead of getting along.
Today, I give an agitated Raven a wide berth. I still keep an eye on her but don’t approach her. She hasn’t gone outside yet and I wonder if being fed up will make her do something rash. What, I don’t know. Lance mentioned enjoying their game and he is for sure playing one.
I just hope it doesn’t turn dangerous.
I’m sitting in my office when the bar phone rings. “Remy Sterling here.”
“Mr. Sterling, this is Lieutenant Charles from the NYPD. A bomb threat has been called into your establishment. Although we can’t insist you evacuate your patrons, we highly suggest you do so until our bomb squad arrives and gives you the all clear to return.”
“On it,” I say, rising as I speak.
Dammit. There’s no way to know if it was Lance on the phone or a real problem. I have no choice but to err on the side of caution. I gather as many employees as I can and instruct them to calmly ask people to leave until the building is clear.
I ask one of the barbacks to check the bathrooms, office area, and to keep an eye on the emergency exit, one also used by the staff, so no stragglers end up causing trouble inside.
Soon the patrons are filing out the back door and being instructed to head to the front of the building.
Despite the fear on some people’s faces, and the eye rolls from those who never believe in fire alarms or any other kind of threat, the crowd is impressively well behaved.
Trampling is always a potential problem and I’m happy there are no assholes in the group.
I glance around for Raven, who was by my side when I talked to the staff, only to find her holding open the door.
Meeting her gaze, I narrow my eyes and gesture for her to move away from the exit. Ignoring me, she grasps onto the arm of a pregnant woman whose friends have obviously ditched her to get themselves to safety. People definitely show their true colors in an emergency.
My gut screams this episode has everything to do with Lance and that he’s finally made his move. But as the owner of the establishment and having a suggestion from the NYPD, or what appeared to be the NYPD, I’m required to act accordingly and that means being the last person out.
“Remy!” Stevie’s voice has me turning around. She points to a woman who’s sitting in a chair, head bent between her legs, clearly having a panic attack.
Shit. No way can I leave her. “Get outside and call 911, make sure they’re sending an ambulance.” I don’t want to take any chances. “I’ll help our customer outside.”
I spare another glance toward where I saw Raven earlier, but she’s gone. My gut churns but I’m unable to leave this panicked woman, whose breaths are coming way too fast, alone inside my place of business.
I kneel down to talk to her. “Miss? What’s your name?”
“M… Melissa.”
“Hi, Melissa. I’m Remy.” As I go through the motions of talking to her and coaxing her to her feet, my thoughts are on Raven.
I have to hope the security guard I hired has an eye on her, that Garrett has heard about the bomb threat and is on his way over, and that this whole fiasco is a false alarm. Most of all, I pray my hunch is wrong. That this has nothing to do with Raven’s psychotic brother.
Unfortunately, my track record is pretty damn good and there’s every chance Lance is about to strike.
* * *
Raven
As soon as Remy explains the phone call from the police, I get to work. As the manager, I need to set a calm example for my employees and show them how to talk to the customers and escort them outside and to the front sidewalk in an orderly fashion.
I stand by the door, keeping an eye on the room and making sure everyone leaves. That’s when I notice a heavily pregnant woman holding her lower back as she makes her way, alone, to the exit.
I rush over to help her. “Are you okay?”
The pretty brunette shrugs. “My lower back has been bothering me all day but I also have sciatica with this pregnancy. So who knows what it is? It’s my third.” She blushes at the admission.
I wince, hoping it’s back pain and not labor. “Well, let’s get you out of here. Where are the women I saw you with earlier?” I ask.
The brunette frowns at the question. “They’re work friends not friend friends, if you know what I mean. And I learned they won’t ever fall into the latter category.”
We make it to the door and walk out. Except for Stevie, the barback watching the emergency exit, and Remy who’s taking care of a woman who looks ill, everyone is out.
I’m not worried about there being an actual explosive in the bar.
Lance wouldn’t involve the NYPD and I’m sure it’s some kind of crime to call in a fake bomb threat.
I have no doubt we’ll all be outside soon.
While I watch for them, I stand with the woman I helped, waiting for an ambulance.
The sidewalk where we’ve met up is crowded.
To my surprise, instead of giving up and going home or to another restaurant, most of the patrons gather and stay, everyone talking, asking questions and mostly wanting to appease their morbid curiosity.
I liken the people gathered to those who pass an accident on the highway and slow down to watch, causing traffic on the other side of the highway.
An officer begins to urge people to cross the street and move away from the building, or better yet, to disperse. Not many listen.
Two ambulances pull up to the curb alongside the police cruisers, blocking traffic so they can park in front of the bar. The paramedics hop out and take the pregnant woman inside one of the vehicles, leaving me to cross the street and try to look for Remy or the guard he assigned to watch me.
With the growing crowd, I’m being jostled and shoved. I’m not comfortable so I back away from the tight group of strangers, instead walking along the periphery and occasionally rising onto my tiptoes to scout out someone I know, to no avail.
I sigh and lean against the building, away from the bulk of gawkers. I don’t have my purse but I have my cell phone in my pocket and I pull it out to call Remy. As I hold it up to my face to open the screen, I get the feeling I had weeks ago, that someone is watching me.
I spin around, facing away from the gathered people, but I don’t see anyone. My heart pounds harder and again I search for Remy or a familiar face.
“Raven.”
At the sound of my name, relief that one of my coworkers has found me first fills me… Except it isn’t a friendly face I see.
It’s Lance.