Chapter Nine #6
“Had a visitor.” Rio set the plates down. “About an hour ago. Wolf shifter in a black SUV, just sitting in my lot. When I asked if I could help, he basically told me to get lost.”
Zeppelin’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in the way he held himself. “He say anything else?”
“I told him this was private property. He said it looked public to him.” Rio pulled out his phone, showed them the license plate number. “Colorado plates. Left when I didn’t back down, but it felt like a message.”
“Or reconnaissance,” Vaughn said around a mouthful of eggs. “Checking out the location, seeing who’s around.”
Quinn had already pulled out his own phone, fingers moving across the screen. “Sheriff Owen can run that plate. Want me to call him?”
“Yeah.” Zeppelin nodded. “Let’s see who we’re dealing with.”
Quinn stepped away from the table, phone pressed to his ear. Rio could hear the murmur of his voice but not the words.
“This connected to the impala you mentioned?” Vaughn asked, looking at Rio with a directness that suggested he already knew the answer.
“Probably.” Rio sat down and picked up his coffee. “Kevin ran from Izan. Made it here. Now someone’s scoping out my restaurant the morning after. Doesn’t take a genius to connect those dots.”
“Kevin your mate?” Vaughn asked before eating another bite of his food.
Rio took a drink of coffee, letting the question sit there while he decided how much to share. Finally, he said, “Yeah.”
“Congratulations.” Zeppelin sounded like he meant it. “Terrible timing, but congrats.”
“Story of my life.” Rio set his cup down. “He left this morning. Before I woke up.”
“Can’t blame him,” Vaughn said. “If someone struck me and then chased me through the woods, I’d probably be skittish too.”
Quinn came back to the table, phone in hand. “Owen’s running it. Said he’ll call back if anything pops up.”
They ate in comfortable silence after that. Rio appreciated it. His mind was already too full. Adding small talk would’ve pushed him past capacity.
When Quinn’s phone rang, everyone stopped eating.
“Yeah?” Quinn listened, nodded, and made a face. “You sure?” Another pause. “All right. Thanks.” He ended the call, then set his phone on the table. “Ameer Kingston. Address in Colorado, but Owen said the guy has a record. Assault, harassment, bunch of stuff that got pled down to nothing.”
“Enforcer,” Zeppelin said. “Has to be. Nobody keeps a guy like that around unless they need someone willing to get their hands dirty.”
Rio’s snow leopard snarled. An enforcer sitting in his parking lot meant Izan was serious about finding Kevin. This wasn’t going to blow over. It was going to escalate.
“I don’t know who that is.” Rio thought about Kevin, wondering where he was and if he was safe. “But if he’s working for Izan, we’ve got a problem.”
“We’ll handle it.” Zeppelin pushed his empty plate aside. “I’ll let my pack know. Anyone sees that SUV again, they call it in. We’ll make sure Izan knows he’s not welcome here.”
“Appreciate it.” Rio stood, started clearing plates. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. If something’s going to happen, I’d rather it not happen with a restaurant full of customers.”
“We’ll keep an eye out,” Quinn said.
Rio thought about how Kevin had gone quiet last night, the careful distance he’d put between them even while lying in the same bed. Convincing his mate to do anything was going to be like convincing water to flow uphill.
“I appreciate the help,” Rio said, still thinking about his mate.
They’d had sex, but Rio hadn’t bitten Kevin to seal their bond.
Kevin was the one to initiate sex, which Rio had thoroughly enjoyed, but soldering their souls happened only once.
He refused to let it happen while fucking his mate over his desk.
After Zeppelin and his pack left, Rio returned to his prep work. Lunch service would start in three hours. Dinner after that. Between now and then, he had a full menu to prepare and a mate to locate, not necessarily in that order.
His phone sat on the counter beside his cutting board. No messages or missed calls. Kevin had vanished without leaving any trail behind.
Fine. If his mate wanted space, Rio would give it to him. For now. But space had limits, and if Izan’s enforcer was already sniffing around, those limits were shrinking fast.
* * * *
The lunch crowd started trickling through the door. There was something about the energy of service that usually put Rio mind at ease. But today his focus was shattered.
He felt off-balanced. Restless. His snow leopard wouldn’t settle, not even when he ran through the kitchen checklist for the third time since dawn. Every half-hour, he made a circuit of the dining room, spoke with a few guests, and helped to prepare dishes even though his help wasn’t needed.
Anything to take his mind off his mate.
Rio had just finished talking with Dr. Clint Sullivan and his mate, Bayne when Kevin walked in.
He hovered near the host stand, hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket as he looked around.
When his gaze landed on Rio, the entire room dimmed.
The restaurant was busy, the staff bustling around as guests talked, and laughed, enjoying their meals. Nobody saw Rio’s shoulders sag or heard the relieved exhale.
Amy at the host stand, spotted Kevin, and gestured him toward an open booth near the windows. Sunlight bathed Kevin’s hair in soft light, turning the golden strands almost copper at the tips.
Rio hung back while he finished plating a salad, borderline obsessing over the lettuce arrangement. Finally, he wiped his hands, telling himself to stop stalling. Exhaling a breath through his nose, Rio crossed the dining room, slowing as he approached his mate.
Kevin’s eyes darted around, like he was casing the joint. But Rio saw the look for what it was. Anxiety.
He slid into the booth across from his mate, resting both hands flat on the table.
“Hey,” he said, quiet enough for just them.
“Hi.” Kevin fisted the cloth napkin then set it down, his fingers petting the wrinkles. His gaze flicked to Rio before quickly lowering. “Pretty busy today.”
“We have those from time to time. Helps keep up the appearance that we’re an upscale restaurant.”
That got a breathy laugh out of Kevin, but he tucked it away fast. His eyes were flicking between Rio, the window, and the exit. Rio sat there quietly, waiting for his mate to find a soft landing.
Kenai approached the table, tablet in hand, his smile fading a little at Kevin’s clear uneasiness. “Gentlemen, would you care for lunch or maybe something to drink?”
Rio looked at Kevin, giving him first shot. But Kevin shook his head.
“Coffee to start,” Rio said. “Black for me. You?”
“Coffee’s good,” Kevin said. “Cream and sugar, if you have it.”
Kenai grinned. “Got it, two coffees.” He vanished back toward the kitchen.
Silence settled between them while the restaurant carried on around them. Rio slung an arm across the back of the booth, watching his mate reach for the cloth napkin. His hand stilled then retreated into his lap.
“About this morning…” Kevin said, his voice pitched low. “Sorry I bailed. That was…bad manners.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Kevin.” Rio matched his tone. “You’re my mate, not my prisoner.”
Kevin’s eyes met his, widening slightly, as if choices were a novelty, not a right.
“I do this thing.” Kevin’s words came slowly at first, then all at once. “Where I run. Not from, like, any big dangerous stuff. From the soft things. The waking-up-next-to-someone stuff. Vulnerability that costs nothing while racking up a debt.”
“Running keeps you debt-free,” Rio said.
“Exactly. My parents were stellar examples.” Kevin gave in and reached for the napkin, curling his fingers around the fabric.
“My mom bounced when I was a kid, turning my dad bitter. He drilled into me that the world was transactional. If you want something, you give something. If you stop giving, you’re out. Simple math.”
That was a fucked-up lesson to teach a kid, especially after his mom walked out. Sadly, too many people embraced that belief, convinced a price tag was attached to even the smallest acts of kindest.
Kevin plucked at the edge of the napkin. “The boyfriends were pretty much the same. By the time you start looking for red flags, you’re already wrapped up in them, you know?”
“Like a comfy burrito.”
Kevin twisted the napkin between his fingers, not looking up.
“I moved to Crimson Hollow last year to get away from my last boyfriend. He thought even the mildest dispute in public was a sign of low IQ. Told me more than once that I was an embarrassment. Perception was what mattered, not my opinions. If a friend or hobby didn’t meet his approval, I could kiss them goodbye. ”
Kevin bolting finally made sense, but it also made Rio want to hunt down the father and ex and thank them with his claws.
“He had a macrophallic penis, didn’t he?” Rio smirked. “Probably reminded you all the time how big his dick was.”
Kevin burst out laughing, the sound carrying a brightness that felt alive. “That was petty but also accurate.”
“He was compensating,” Rio said. “I don’t have an approval list.”
“You don’t need one,” Kevin said under his breath. "Still can’t sit right.”
Their coffees arrived. Kenai dropped them off, flashed a grin, and promised he’d check in later for their order.
Kevin fixed his coffee, loading it up with sugar and cream, and took a sip.
“Look,” Kevin said, “I know what the mate thing means. I’m just sorry fate gave you the short end of the stick.”
Rio snorted. “Wait until you get to know me before you decide which end is the shortest.”
“Really?” Kevin’s eyebrow lifted. “We’re comparing who has the least desirable attributes?”
“I prefer to think of our idiosyncrasy as fun little discoveries.”