Chapter 19
Mateo pulled the SUV into the service drive and parked beside the Gold Coast Catering van. He didn’t cut the engine immediately. Just sat for a second, scanning mirrors, entry points, the line of parked vehicles, the open service door. Only then did he shift into park.
“Wait for me to come around.”
Julia didn’t reach for the handle. Didn’t argue. She already knew the drill.
He got out and walked around the front of the SUV, his eyes constantly scanning—not overtly, but he didn’t miss a thing. Staff crossed the driveway. A server emerged from a side door. A delivery truck idled farther down the street.
He opened her door. “Stay close.”
About her age. Maybe a few years older. Several inches over six feet, all taut muscle, built for speed more than bulk. Mateo was like every D he radiated the same quiet competence and authority she’d spent the past few months trying not to miss. It was deeply annoying.
She put that out of her mind and slid out.
The high-end private party had been on the calendar for weeks. The venue was small, as was the guest list, which made it easier to control.
What mattered most, her security team had signed off on it.
Inside, the kitchen was a hive of activity. Steam rose from pots on the stove; knives rhythmically chopped on cutting boards. Emily’s brigade, in crisp white coats, flushed with the heat and concentration of service.
Julia took her place at the pass, already tying on an apron. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re here. That’s what counts,” Emily replied without looking up. “Salad course is done. Hot apps in three.”
“Perfect.”
Emily stayed on plating, eyes sharp, hands moving with precision.
Julia expedited. Calling out selections by table. Controlling the flow. For a while, it was all work, which helped.
The only hitch came at the dessert course. Emily frowned, glancing at the prep space, and turned full circle. “Where are the torches?”
“For the br?léed tarts?” Julia asked, scanning too.
“Yes. I don’t see them.”
“Do you remember bringing them in?”
Emily shook her head. “Actually, I don’t.”
Julia patted her pockets for keys. When she located her set, she turned and nearly walked into Mateo. He hadn’t made a sound. He was just there.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To the van. We’re missing the torches.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“It’s right outside.”
“That’s fine, but where you go, I go.”
Julia held his gaze for a second then nodded, already heading for the rear exit. She paused long enough to remove her apron. It had food splatters but was still considered clean until it left the kitchen.
She smoothed the front of her shirt, buttoned to her chin to hide the raw skin and discoloration from the other night’s very bad decision, and followed Mateo out the door.
The evening air was warm, but still a welcome break from the heat of the oven and cooktops. Julia unlocked the van and climbed in, reaching into the supply crate.
It took little digging before she pulled out three torches. “Found them.”
Mateo scanned the drive as she locked up. One sweep toward the house. Another toward the outer edge of the lot. Then, to the service door again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing around too.
“Maybe nothing,” was his vague reply. “But let’s get you inside.”
“Oh, thank heaven,” Emily said when she saw her with the torches. “Unbr?léed tarts are just—”
“Tarts?”
Emily laughed. “Right.” She took them from her and hurried to the line.
Julia slipped on her apron again, tucking the keys into the deep front pocket. Her fingers brushed something else.
She went still, whispering, “No…” as she pulled out a black satin scrunchie.
Mateo was beside her instantly. “What is it?”
Julia held it up, her hand shaking. “I lost this at the party the other night,” she told him. “I know it wasn’t in my apron when I got the keys.”
Mateo’s hand went to his comm. “Control, I’ve got a breach.”
He tensed as he listened.
“Not possible. I can’t leave Julia.” Then he snapped, his voice sharp as glass. “Tell him to make it two minutes.”
He listened again. Shorter this time. “Copy.”
The muscles in his already-rigid frame coiled tighter, his focus narrowing on her face. “Stay in the kitchen with Emily,” he said. “Alec is on his way. Do not move from that spot until he gets here.”
His tone erased any instinct to argue.
“I won’t,” she promised, unnerved by it all. She turned and hurried to her post.
She whirled around when she heard the bang. The door was flung wide, Mateo already through it.
When Emily looked up, her eyes met hers, an unspoken question clear.
Julia shook her head. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t know.”
The kitchen noise resumed around them, but it felt different. Even the staff seemed to sense the wrongness.
Moments later, Alec came through the service entrance at a run, scanning until he found Julia and located Emily.
“I’ve got eyes on her,” he said into his comm. “Status on Mateo?”
Silence. Then— “Shit.”
Julia’s heart dropped.
“What?” Emily demanded.
“He got away.” Alec’s jaw set. “And Mateo’s down.”
Julia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God—was he shot?”
“No. He expected us to follow and set a trap.”
Emily went pale. “What kind of trap?”
“Monofilament wire at the top of a stairwell. Mateo’s banged up, but he’ll live.”
“Shouldn’t we go to him?” Julia asked.
“Callan is handling it. You’re staying put.” He reminded her of something more chilling. “The perp is still out there.”
Julia’s hand dipped into her pocket. The hairband was a warning. He didn’t get to her tonight, but he’d been close enough to prove that he could.