Chapter 9
“Bea! About time you got back to work,” Stan called out from the kitchen through the order window.
The two waitresses Breely had worked with for the past couple of months hurried over to her and hugged her tightly.
“We heard what happened,” one said.
“We’re so glad you’re all right,” the other said. “It’s scary to think something like that could happen right here.”
Their hugs and concern warmed Breely’s heart and made her sad she would be leaving them to handle the tables without her. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes misting.
They hugged her again and hurried off to take care of their customers.
Breely pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen where Stan manned the grill, flipping a row of hamburgers and slapping slices of cheese on them to melt.
She waited until he placed the cheeseburgers on buns, arranged lettuce, tomatoes and pickles around them, then scooped French fries from the warmer and added them to the plates.
With quiet efficiency, he placed the plates on the window ledge between the kitchen and dining room and yelled, “Order up!”
Then he turned and opened his arms. “Bring it in.”
Breely stepped into his embrace and was immediately crushed against his barrel chest.
He squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe and didn’t care as tears slipped from her eyes.
Stan had been her boss, mentor and surrogate father for the time she’d managed to live on her own after her great escape from the family ranch.
When he finally let go, he crossed his thick arms over his chest and stared hard into her eyes. “Are you going to be all right?”
She brushed away the tears and nodded. “I’m not coming back,” she said, choking on a sob.
He nodded. “I know, Breely. You’re not safe here.”
She frowned. He’d called her by her real name. “You know?”
“That you’re a helluva a waitress, and we’re going to miss you around here?” He nodded, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. “Hell, yeah, I know.”
She laughed at the fact he avoided repeating her real name. “How long?”
“Since your father came looking for you the day after I hired you.”
Her heart sank. “He did?”
Stan frowned. “Now, don’t go getting angry. He did what any father would do. He made sure his little girl was all right.”
“And I wanted to make it on my own.” She shook her head. “So, this was all a joke between you and him?”
Stan raised a thick brow. “Did standing on your feet for eight to ten hours a day feel like a joke?”
Breely shook her head, the memories of how badly her feet had ached coming back to haunt her. “Did he pay you to hire me?”
“Honey, that was all me. I told you…he showed up the day after I hired you. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t some sleazy geezer who’d trap you in the refrigerator and harass you.”
Her cheeks burned. “You’re kidding. What did you tell him?”
“That I love my wife, and no other woman on earth can hold a candle to her.” He grinned. “I also said that she’d use my favorite butcher knife on my balls if I even thought about someone else. I kind of like my balls where they are.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” Breely said. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”
“Why would I?” Stan tipped his head toward the dining room.
“I hired a waitress. I don’t care if she’s a princess or a bag lady as long as she doesn’t smell bad and can do the job.
” Stan leaned toward Breely. “You never smelled bad, and you caught on quickly. That’s all I asked.
Did I treat you any differently than the other waitresses? ”
Breely’s lips twisted. “No.”
“Damn right, I didn’t. I yelled at you just like I yelled at the others. I don’t have the time or energy to play favorites. Either you work out, or you’re gone.” He shrugged. “You worked out. And we’ll miss you.”
Breely hugged the man again, her eyes misting all over again. “Thank you, Stan. You’re a good man.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” His eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Don’t forget where we are. I could always use a backup when someone doesn’t show up for her shift.”
“I love you, too, Stan.” Breely left the kitchen before she broke down and bawled like a baby.
Moe followed her through the dining room and out into the parking lot. He didn’t say anything, just held her door for her, waited until she was settled in the passenger seat and then closed it.
He hurried around the car, slid behind the steering wheel and drove to the airport without uttering a word.
It took all the time driving from the tavern until Moe parked the loaner car for Breely to get her emotions in check.
Had Moe said anything nice or comforting, she would have lost her hold on her tears.
She was sad about leaving her new coworkers and boss, but it was more than that.
She was going to start all over again, knowing she wouldn’t be fully independent or free of her family’s impact on her life.
She was Breely Brantt, daughter of Robert Brantt, one of the richest men in the world.
Therefore, she would always be a target.
If not from opportunists looking for ransom money, then from paparazzi chasing a story.
Her brief life as Bea Smith, the waitress at the Tumbleweed Tavern, had been rewarding, but a lie.
Stan had known all along who she was. It had only been a matter of time before others would have discovered her whereabouts and attempted to capitalize on it.
Her only light in the darkness was Moe. Yeah, she’d only known him a day, but they’d shared their life histories and so much more in that short time. She felt she knew him better than some of the people she’d worked with side by side on the ranch.
If what they’d shared ended up being only a fling, she’d remember their time together as beautiful and intense.
Moe acted as if it didn’t matter that she was the daughter of a wealthy man, but, if he were around her long enough, he’d eventually want out.
No one wanted the hassle of living in a fish bowl, every move you made recorded and broadcast in the news or the trash magazines looking for drama, not truth.
Breely’s father had sheltered her from so much.
Still, no matter how scary it was outside the tight security on the ranch, she refused to go back.
This meant she’d always need a bodyguard and would always have to be on her toes, aware of her surroundings and careful not to put herself in a vulnerable position.
Breely climbed out of the car, reached into the back of the vehicle and grabbed the garbage bags full of everything she owned. She squared her shoulders and marched with Moe to the airplane as if she were marching into her future…or a battle. The two were synonymous.
At least she’d have Moe at her side during the transition from Bea the waitress to Breely the client. She wouldn’t be as alone as she’d thought she was when she’d left the ranch.
Moe tossed her bags into the plane, then helped her get in. He remained on the ground to perform a quick pre-flight check. Then he climbed into the cockpit, filed his flight plan and started the engine.
Breely settled her headset over her ears and adjusted the microphone to a position in front of her mouth.
Everything that had occurred over the last twenty-four hours roiled in Breely’s mind. Through all the images etched indelibly in her memory, the hours spent lying naked in Moe’s arms gave her the most comfort.
Ground control directed Moe to taxi to the end of the runway and finally gave him clearance to take off.
Moe pushed the throttle forward, and the plane gained speed, the hangars lined up along the side of the airfield flashing by in a haze.
Breely felt like the plane, everything blurring around her as she rushed toward her future.
Moe pulled back on the yoke.
The plane left the ground and climbed higher, leveling out high in the sky, Bozeman growing smaller with each passing mile.
A rush of panic threatened to overwhelm her. Breely had the sudden urge to get out of the plane. Now.
But they were already too high. She couldn’t get out. Her only options were to die or ride it out.
Her pulse pounded, and her breathing grew ragged. She was trapped in the plane and trapped in her life. There was no escape.
Moe’s hand closed over hers. “Hey,” he said.
She squeezed his fingers hard, her hand shaking in his. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He’d called her a badass.
Being a badass implied she had her shit together.
In reality, she was sitting in the copilot seat of an airplane, quietly losing her shit.
“Breely,” Moe’s voice penetrated her chaotic thoughts.
She grunted in response, unsure she could form a coherent sentence, much less a cohesive thought.
“Look at me,” Moe commanded.
She hesitated at first and then turned to face him, her eyes wide.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Just breathe.”
When she didn’t respond, he squeezed her hand. “Come on. Breathe with me. Out with the old.” He blew out a breath. “In with the new.” Moe pulled air into his lungs, his chest expanding. “Now, let it out slowly.” He released the breath. “Again.”
He repeated the exercise until Breely joined him. Breathing in and then out.
After several minutes of this, the tightness in Breely’s chest eased, and her hands stopped shaking.
One more breath in, and she let it out. “Thank you,” she said into the mic.
“You’re welcome. I think you’ll like the lodge and all the people in it.
You’ll meet the other members of my team, every one of them prior military special forces.
Our leader, Stone Jacobs, along with Ben Yates, Carter Manning and Dax Young, are Navy SEALs.
Hunter Falcon is Delta Force, and I’m the lone PJ.
We’ll have more come on board soon. Stone’s father, John Jacobs, a prior service Marine, owns the lodge.
Cookie’s the chef and prior Navy. He runs a tight ship in the kitchen.
Tinker, the handyman, is a former Army motor pool mechanic.
The man can fix anything. Then there are the ladies.
Kyla is Stone’s woman, a real badass and former assassin. ”