Chapter 13 #2
“Isn’t that what I said?” Rhys asked, looking mildly offended.
***
Emily went through the motions of winding down her shift, though her gaze kept sliding toward booth 12A and the two unfairly handsome men waiting for her. Judging by the whispering behind the counter, she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Even sixty-three-year-old Margaret had perked up.
“I heard him order,” Nicole gushed. “That accent? I felt it in my ovaries. If you tell me he’s single, I’ll melt right into this sticky floor.”
“As if any of us has a shot,” Ellen scoffed. “Look at her”—she pointed a spatula at Emily—“then look at them.” They didn’t need to turn toward the last booth on the right—they were already staring. “Gorgeous attracts gorgeous. Not frumpy, forty-something waitresses in support hose with bad knees.”
Some days, Ellen was a walking morale hazard worse than any Debby Downer.
Nicole ignored her. “He’s a special friend of yours, isn’t he?” she stage-whispered to Emily, brows waggling. “Please say yes. I need to live vicariously through someone.”
“The gorgeous, blue-eyed, All-American boy-next-door is Alec, a childhood friend,” Emily said, trying not to smile and failing. “The one giving off James Bond energy is Rhys.”
Nicole and Margaret sighed, instantly reverting to giddy adolescents. Ellen snorted again, the human equivalent of a cranky goose.
“Emily, order up,” the cook called.
“I’m off to have breakfast with the hotties,” she said, heading to the pickup window. “It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.”
“I volunteer,” Nicole called, raising her hand.
“Lucky duck!” Emily heard Margaret mutter as she loaded the hot plates onto a tray and carried it over before anyone could grill her further.
Alec waited until she set everything down then stood and motioned her into the booth. When he settled—so close his thigh pressed against hers—she arched a brow. “Are you afraid that what you have to say will send me bolting for the door?”
Rhys answered smoothly. “It’s courtesy where I come from, luv. The gentleman guards the aisle.”
“Says the man who learned to drive on the wrong side of the road,” Alec muttered, adding a splash of cream to his coffee.
“We’ve been doing it properly for nearly two millennia,” Rhys countered. “Since knights jousted, thank you very much.”
Emily laughed at their banter, but her appetite had evaporated. She salted her omelet out of habit and nudged it around the plate.
“Can we talk and eat?” she asked. “Because I’m about to spontaneously combust if someone doesn’t start explaining.”
“You need protection,” Rhys announced—delicate as a sledgehammer.
Alec exhaled. “Ever heard of easing someone in?”
“Certainly.”
“Then, let me,” he ground out.
“Fine.” Rhys shrugged and speared a bite of pancake. “Do carry on.”
“What kind of protection?” Emily asked. “Better locks and a tracker?”
“Think up several notches.”
“I can’t afford even one notch.”
“Cost isn’t your concern,” he replied.
“Why? What’s this about?”
Alec turned toward her, his food forgotten. “You remember the mob boss who was shot in Miami earlier this year?”
“Yes. What does he have to do with me?”
“He was part of an international drug and human-trafficking ring.”
“Young girls. Barely eighteen. It’s sick and twisted,” Rhys added around a mouthful of pancakes.
“Do you mind?” Alec snapped.
“Sorry,” Rhys said, shooting Emily an apologetic look. “These scones, though? Brilliant.”
She managed a smile. “I didn’t make them, but thanks.”
“Em, focus.”
“Isn’t the bad guy getting shot a good thing?” she asked. “I still don’t see how this relates to me.”
“It didn’t end when he went down, which suggests he was only a minor player. More girls have gone missing recently, including two who worked for Gold Coast Catering.”
Her fork slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the plate. Heads turned.
Alec covered her trembling hand with his. “Did you know Beth Ann Pierce?”
She nodded slowly. “She didn’t work there long. Is she one of the missing girls?”
“Can you tell us anything about her?”
“Beth Ann was scatterbrained. Always late, never listened, terrible following directions, that kind of thing. It drove Regina crazy. She showed up late for the pre-event briefing last Saturday. It was the last straw. None of us were surprised when she fired her on the spot. It was just a matter of time.”
“Do you know where she went afterward?”
“No. Beth Ann and I weren’t close.”
“What about the others?” Rhys asked. “Did she have friends at work she might’ve turned to?”
“I’m not being unkind when I say she annoyed everyone. Most of us just tolerated her. But I still don’t understand why I’d be in danger. I’m not a blonde, and I’m a long way from eighteen.”
“No, but hair can be dyed,” Rhys suggested. “And you could easily pass for a teenager.”
Emily scowled. She’d heard that for years.
“You’re no longer working for Regina,” Alec stated firmly.
“I can’t just quit. I have bills, tuition, rent.”
“You have to work two jobs to do it?” Rhys asked, sounding appalled.
“I’m a waitress and a banquet worker. On a good week, I bring home a little over five hundred dollars”—she gestured toward the table—“I’d need to serve waffles by the truckload to make ends meet.”
“The hours are awful. If the pay is bad too, why stay?” he asked, forking up more whipped-cream-laden bites.
“I get benefits here. I cracked a tooth last year. Do you know how much a crown costs? Regina pays better, but that’s all I get, and it’s on an as-needed basis. She usually stays busy, but I can’t bank on ‘usually.’ Here, the hours are dependable. So I need both.”
“You’re getting a man on you,” Alec informed her, his tone allowing no room for debate.
She needed clarification, however. “A man? As in a tail? Is that one of the several notches?”
“As in a bodyguard.”
“How does that work exactly? There’s a wedding this weekend. I’m pretty sure the father of the bride won’t want a big, burly guy with an earpiece and a Glock shadowing the help after dropping ten grand on shrimp and canapes.”
“We’re professionals. He won’t be quite so in-your-face,” Rhys explained. “Besides, we don’t want to tip Regina off if she’s involved.”
“I don’t like this,” she uttered to her plate of cold egg whites.
“Neither do I,” Alec said, gripping her hand tight, “but this is about your safety. Your choice is to accept a bodyguard or give notice effective immediately.”
She’d hit the ATM that morning. Her bank balance was dismal. Quitting wasn’t an option. Reluctantly, she accepted the alternative. “When do I meet my professional shadow?”
Rhys wiped his mouth and replied, “You’re having breakfast with him.”
When she looked at Alec hopefully, he shook his head. Her gaze tracked to the man across the table. He saluted her with two fingers and a dazzling grin.
“There’ll be several of us,” he said. “But you’ve got me first.”
Emily sighed. “Oh, goodie.”