CHAPTER ONE JUST THE TIP
CHAPTER ONE
JUST THE TIP
RHYS
One Year Later
“Why’re you back here?” I asked Harlow as I dodged behind her to grab a beer bottle from the cooler.
She looked over her shoulder at me as she filled a pint glass. “You and Chuck were getting your asses handed to you.”
She wasn’t wrong.
That didn’t stop me from pointing out, “You’re not an employee anymore.”
When she’d initially taken the job at Rye, it was because she needed the cash since her internship at a news station was free labor.
Even once she’d been upgraded to a paid position as a news desk assistant, she’d stayed on with me because I needed the help.
After I’d gone on a damn hiring blitz, I’d assumed I had backup for my backups and could let her off the hook.
I was wrong.
“I’m an unpaid intern,” she said as she handed over the beer and added it to a running tab.
“You already took that ride.”
“And I’m great at it, so shut up and accept my help.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “No one tells me to shut up.”
“I’m shocked,” she deadpanned.
“I can fire you from this unpaid internship.”
“But you won’t,” she shot back with a toss of her red hair.
I looked past her to where her husband sat on a stool. “She always this snarky when she’s trying to be helpful?”
“Nah.” Kase stared at Harlow with a lovesick smile. “She’s usually worse, but she’s taking pity on you.”
With friends like these…
I shook my head at both of them but didn’t have a chance to say more before a customer in the corner nudged his empty glass forward in a silent request. Harlow and Chuck were right there with me, darting back and forth down the long bar to take care of the crush of patrons, stock server trays, and pretend to pay attention to the chatty customers who thought a busy Friday night was the perfect time to shoot the shit.
I had no damn clue how long it took before we made enough of a dent that we had a second to breathe. I stepped back and surveyed my kingdom of bullshit, seeing everything had slowed. The only thing out of place was a tray at the server’s corner. “Who’s that for?”
Chuck grabbed the printout from the tray. “Daisy.”
I looked out across the crowd but didn’t see her. Of my recent hires, she was the best of them. That wasn’t saying much, but she was actually damn good. She had experience, was nice to the customers, and could handle the rush. Even at our busiest, she barely seemed ruffled.
It would fucking suck if she’d walked out.
I grabbed the abandoned tray and rounded the bar to deliver it to the table of fetuses. At least that was what the four baby-faced kids looked like.
Holding the tray aloft, I stared them down. “Lemme see IDs.”
“We showed them outside,” one said even as the other three quickly pulled out their wallets.
“Now you’re gonna show them inside.”
After the bullshit raid a year ago, I wasn’t taking a chance. I inspected each like there would be a quiz on every last detail.
Which there was.
Just not for me.
Grilling them, their answers matched the info without hesitation.
I raised an expectant brow to the holdout before giving a pointed look over his shoulder. He turned to see the security guard stiffen, ready to move as soon as I gave him the go-ahead.
Scrambling, the kid tugged his license out and handed it over. I let him suffer as I inspected it slowly before giving him the same fact-check questions. Satisfied that they were twenty-three—and not twelve like they looked—I tossed his ID back before giving them the cheap beers.
“Where’s the hottie?” one of them asked, looking around in search of Daisy.
I scowled as I batted my lashes. “You sayin’ I’m not pretty?” I tucked the empty tray under my arm. “Tip me well for that insult.”
I collected empties as I made my way back to my post, relieved to see it was still calm.
Or as calm as it would be at that point on a Friday.
I was about to send Harlow home—or at least to sit on the other side of the bar with her man—when she stopped suddenly.
“Do you remember the detective who helped Piper with the… you know?” she asked me quietly.
“With the motherfucking snake? Yeah, I remember.”
The friend who’d used his position in the group to stalk and hurt Piper was another damn betrayal that was etched into my bones. One I would never forget.
The same could be said about the no-nonsense detective, but for a very different reason. It’d been over a year since I’d met her at the police station, but I could still picture her gorgeous face.
Still hear the hesitant way she’d called me Sir.
Still imagine the curves she tried—and fuckin’ failed—to hide beneath a boxy suit.
It was easy for my brain to remember all of that because I’d done it often, usually with my dick in my hand.
“Why are you asking?” I asked, fighting a hard-on at the reminder of Detective Oscar.
“I could’ve sworn I saw her at the game console launch I covered for the station.” Harlow went up on her toes. “And I think I just saw her.”
My gaze darted from the tap I was pouring out of to look out at the crowded room. “Where?”
“She was headed toward the hallway. The employee one, not the bathroom one. I may be mistaken, though. A trauma-induced hallucination on behalf of Piper.”
“Don’t think that’s how that works, ipo,” Kase said as he stood. I thought he was getting his delirious woman out of there, but he looked at me and jerked his head to the side. “Go check it out. I’ll jump in.”
“You don’t bartend.”
“Think I can do better than you right now.” His eyes dropped pointedly to the glass in my hand. The one that was overflowing as foamy beer coated my hand without me noticing.
“Shit.” I set down the glass and shook off my hand before grabbing a bar rag. I wiped off the mess as I stormed through the crowd toward the back of the building, keeping my eyes peeled for the detective or someone who looked like her.
I was expecting the latter, but when I reached the back hall, there she was.
In all her uptight glory.
Her back was to me as she spoke to a man in a suit. Even without being able to see her face, I recognized her rounded ass that peeked out beneath her suit coat. Like the first time I’d met her, her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun that seemed like it would cause a fucker of a headache.
I dragged my gaze up to catch the alert eyes of the guy who watched my approach. He was decent-looking—in a prick kinda way that said he knew it. For a brief second, I wondered if they were on a date. It wouldn’t be the first—or even thousandth—time a couple snuck away to find a hookup spot.
But nothing about them screamed romance. Not unless coordinating suits revved their engines.
The tension bunching her shoulders was also a tip-off.
Tension that heightened when I spoke before the prick could alert her of my presence. “Can I help you with something?”
She spun to face me, her big brown eyes widening in recognition.
I liked that.
I liked it a whole fuckuva lot that I wasn’t the only one who remembered our brief meeting.
She masked it quickly and was all business when she asked, “Are you the owner?”
I lifted my chin.
Flashing a badge, she made a rushed introduction that wasn’t needed. “I’m Detective Oscar. This is Detective Matthews. What’s behind this door?”
“Stock room.”
“Can you unlock it?”
My instincts must’ve been working on a damn delay thanks to the distraction of seeing her, but at her questions, unease prickled at the back of my neck.
My gut echoed the apprehension. With all the bullshit I’d been dealing with, it was unlikely that she simply wanted to see what brands of liquor I served.
“Why?” I asked.
“We just want to have a look around,” Matthews answered. Contrary to his words, he didn’t seem too eager to do anything. He looked bored.
She, on the other hand, looked antsy as fuck as her watchful gaze darted around like she expected an ambush.
“Do you have a warrant?” I asked.
Detective Oscar arched a brow. “Do we need a warrant?”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“Are you going to answer my questions with something other than another question?”
Christ, she’s pretty when she’s irritated.
I remained silent as I folded my arms across my chest and waited.
Usually, my glower was enough to have whoever blurting their secrets.
The detective seemed like she was fighting an eye roll.
I had no idea if it was my expression or the fact he wanted to hurry this shit along, but her companion folded on her behalf.
“Someone called in a tip,” he said.
My gut clenched tighter. “What was it?”
It was their turn to remain tight-lipped.
Not that it mattered, and I told them as much. “Whatever it was, it’s bullshit like the other calls.”
“Calls? Plural?” he asked.
“Handful of times to the health department and once claiming we were serving minors. No truth to any of it.”
“Yeah, I saw the report for that last one when I ran the bar through our system. Either way, we have to check it out.”
Detective Oscar’s jaw clenched at her partner’s dismissive tone.
Couldn’t tell if she was playing bad cop to him or me, but I did know it had me fighting that hard-on again.
“If you want a warrant first, that’s your right.
Of course, we’ll have to shut everything down and clear the place while we wait for it to come in.
That seems like a waste of everyone’s time. ”
There goes the fight.
Turning to face the door, my gaze darted down to check to make sure my worn flannel covered the hard evidence stretching down my thigh before I punched in the code to unlock the door. I pushed it open and stepped aside.
The guy waited in the hall with me as she walked through the rows of shelving units.
She didn’t stop to inspect any of the bottles, seals, expiration dates, or cleanliness.
Her walkthrough of the kitchen, walk-in fridge, and pantry was just as quick, which meant the issue wasn’t something as simple as another false code violation.
Unsurprising, since I doubted they sent detectives for that frivolous shit.
My cooks stopped what they were doing to watch her as intently as I did.
Too fuckin’ intently.
I cleared my throat, and they jumped back to work before the food started a fire that would torch the place.
I wouldn’t be too broken up about that with the way shit was going.
The detective took a little more time in the break room, opening the heavy door that led to the small employee lot. Wasn’t much to see in the other back room, but she walked inside to check around the couch.
Only one door was left, but it was apparently one door too many for the guy. “It’s all good. Can we leave now?”
You can.
She can stick around to see how I put that back room to use.
Or how I used to when I had the time and energy.
Hell, how long has it been?
The damn room and I are both collecting dust.
Shooting him a warning glare, Detective Oscar tapped a door. “What’s in here?”
“My office,” I said.
“Can you unlock it?” She might’ve phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t one.
That didn’t mean I was about to jump to obey the order.
It was usually the opposite in my world.
I stared her down again. “You gonna tell me what this is about first?”
She hesitated before finally laying her cards on the table. At least one of them. “We got a call from a woman in distress.”
That explains the damn speedwalk through the place.
Since I had not one thing to hide—and I sure as shit didn’t want her to think I was the kind of scumbag who would cause a woman distress in an unpleasant way—I unlocked the door and pushed it open without bothering to look in.
Not till shit went to hell from one blink to the next.