Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
brISTOL ENTERED Spatina on Dalton’s arm. Phone lines rang at the hostess desk while a woman Bristol didn’t recognize led guests to their tables, handing them menus and introducing them to the servers.
Bristol frowned. “What happened to Beth?”
Dalton’s hand reached across her back, rubbing her shoulder. “She left with her boyfriend for another state. Montana . . . Missouri? One of the M states. But Holly is wonderful,” he added as the hostess returned to her station.
“Mr. Dalton, so good to see you again.”
The phones trilled on, but she didn’t take her gaze off Dalton. “Can I show you to your regular table?”
“We”—he tugged Bristol closer—“would love that.”
“Excellent.” She offered a half bow. “Right this way.”
Dalton held out her chair, and Bristol slipped into it. It was the same table they always ate at, but as she looked around, she noted at least three new waitresses.
She took the open menu Holly handed her. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Miss Bristol.”
Had they met?
“Miquel told me you two were coming. The chef has planned something very special for you both tonight.”
“Thank you, Holly.” Dalton pinned his gaze on her, and she quickly backed away and returned to her stand, finally answering the trilling phone.
The scent of fresh, yeasty focaccia bread, ripe tomatoes, and basil hung in the air as lively conversation swarmed around them.
“Busy tonight.” She studied the crowd. Mainly a male clientele.
A young woman—no more than twenty, she’d guess—approached their table with a bottle of wine. “Chateau Ste. Michelle?” She held the bottle at an angle in one hand while sliding her other along it in display. “Chef Leon’s recommendation.”
Dalton gestured for her to pour, but lines creased the side of his mouth. Impatience? Interesting.
“I’m Bristol.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She half bowed again.
“You’re new since I was last here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you are?”
The young lady looked at Dalton, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Tori.”
“Nice to meet you, Tori,” she said as the woman poured their wines, then quickly retreated from the table.
“To you being back where you belong.” Dalton clinked her glass with his.
She took a sip, then setting the glass down, smiled. “And there’s no place I’d rather be.”
He smiled back. It appeared genuine.
Did he actually like her? Care about her? How could a monster like she’d witnessed last night also be this congenial, thoughtful man beside her?
“I don’t think we’ll need our menus,” he said, taking hers. “Sounds like Leon is making us a very special meal.”
“How lovely.” She scanned the room.
He took her hand, caressing her fingers, then his brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” She fixed her gaze on him, smiling. “Just happy to be back here. Prison food is the worst.” Which he’d be tasting soon enough, she hoped.
He laughed. “I can’t imagine.” He continued caressing her hand, rubbing circles along her palm, which she used to love. But now it tightened her chest, tensing her body.
Relax or he’ll see right through you.
“Well, tonight you’ll have a fantastic meal.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Dalton took a lingering sip of wine. “Excellent choice, don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.”
“What’s caught your eye?”
“Hmm?” She quickly turned her attention back to him. “What do you mean?”
“You keep staring about the restaurant.”
“Oh, it’s fun seeing it doing well.”
“That it is.” He toasted to her again, and she took a subsequent sip.
“Mmm,” she murmured, setting her glass down. “I just noticed it looks like a lot of new staff since I’ve been in here.”
“Restaurant turnover is part of the trade, I’m afraid.”
“That makes sense.” She forced a smile onto her face, working to offer him one as loving as she had before she learned the truth. But it wasn’t quite the same, and she noticed he was studying her as much as she was studying the restaurant staff.
She reached over and cupped her hand over their joined ones. “I’m so happy to be here with you. It’s all I thought about in that awful place.”
“And you’re all I thought about while you were in there.” That and selling women, apparently. Oh, and let’s not forget the drugs.
“There’s my favorite couple,” Miquel said, a plate of appetizers in hand.
“They’re putting you to work?” Dalton laughed. “A jack-of-all-trades, this one.”
Oh, she’d learned that.
“I wanted to personally welcome you back to Spatina.” Miquel set down a large round plate filled with seafood atop an artful display of vibrant fruit and seaweed.
“Thank you, Miquel. This looks lovely.” Releasing Dalton’s hand, she draped a napkin across her lap.
“Of course. If you two need anything, just send one of the girls to get me. I’ll be in my office.”
If only she could get a look in there . . . though the room behind the bookcase held her thoughts. It’d become a mark for her, and she hadn’t lost one yet.
“What?” Dalton asked, his fingers brushing along her arm.
She arched a brow. “What, what?”
“You got that look.” He took another sip of his wine.
“What look?” Breathe nice and slow. Calm your system down.
“The one that means your mind’s racing.”
She laughed it off. “Isn’t it always?”
“True. You just seem so distracted tonight.”
She shifted in her seat to draw closer to his side. “It’s just that being out and seeing everything I’ve loved all at once is a bit overwhelming.” Loved as in past tense. Now nothing remained for him but contempt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. Perhaps a quiet dinner at the house would be more comfortable for you.”
“Oh, I’m okay, really.”
“Hang on.” He stood. “I’ll be right back.”
She remained seated, her gaze casting over the staff, tugging her thoughts from the hidden room to the one she sat in.
There had to be a handful of new girls. However, all the busboys and sous chefs remained the same—at least those she could see through the open kitchen, all decked out with gourmet appliances, a gorgeous marble workstation, and everything in its proper place. So why the female turnover?
Pain shot through her gut as if she’d been hit. What if this was where they sold off the women? What if they were the underground menu, and the men at the tables were buyers?
Oh no. Please don’t toss your cookies. Taking a stick of fresh and warm focaccia bread out of the basket, she took a nibble and then another. Finally, her stomach settled, but the question remained. Hopefully, Tom and Aubry were picking up on her questions, bringing the same horrid theory to mind.
Aubry paced the small interior of the van, situated around the corner from Spatina. They’d been in there for hours. How long did a six-course meal take?
“Dude, chill,” Tom said. “We’re getting it all.”
For some unexplained reason, Aubry was far more concerned with Bristol’s safety than the information they were receiving warranted.
“She’s doing well,” Tom added, holding the over-the-head headphones up to one ear, jotting down notes as things came in.
“Keep it on the speakers,” Aubry said.
“You got it, boss.” Tom pulled out the headphone jack, and the sounds of a bustling restaurant rang over it.
“Maybe turn it down a little,” he instructed and then grabbed a rolling stool and took a seat beside Tom.
“Miquel has a more secluded place ready for us,” Dalton said. “Just come with me.”
“Oh, that wasn’t necessary. I’m perfectly fine here.”
Aubry winced at the discomfort in her voice. He needed to build her up. She could play the best of them. She just needed to treat this like any other con, though it was a far deeper and deadlier one. He wanted her out of there. No sooner had he sat, than he was back up, pacing the van.
Tom looked back at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a thing for the informant, sir.”
Tom was a good agent. Green, but good. But he still had a lot to learn about being in the field.
Aubry prayed that wouldn’t be a detriment to them.
As long as he kept an eye on him . . . but he wanted his full attention on the lady.
And was he that obvious with his attraction to her?
Of course, she was stunning, but it was her that captivated his interest—as wrong as that was, given their current parameters.
“Back this way,” Miquel Torres said. Bristol’s heels tapped on the wooden floor.
Where were they headed?
“Here you two go,” Miquel said with enthusiasm.
“Dessert in your office,” she said. “How private. How lovely.”
“Now, that’s a place I’d love to search,” Tom said between chews of his gum.
Aubry just prayed Bristol didn’t try. Too high a chance she’d get caught.
If only they’d given her another bug to plant in the office, then they could hear all of Miquel’s calls.
They’d have to arrange that somehow. The only problem was the danger of her heading back in.
A danger that didn’t sit well with him. If he caught her, Dalton would kill her without compunction.