Chapter 22

Holly

“Holly! Let’s go, toots. Chop, chop!”

I glared up at Talon as I passed through the kitchen to change into a new apron. My whole afternoon had been an absolute shit show at work, and one of the kids at one of my tables had just managed to spill his entire soda all over the front of my jeans.

“I’m covered in sticky soda,” I grated, “I need two minutes to try to dry off and change into a new apron.”

“Make it one. The lunch rush has barely gotten started.”

I rolled my eyes as I blew through the swinging doors from the kitchen to the staff room.

“I saw that!” Talon called after me.

I ignored him and went to my locker, where I desperately searched through my bag in hopes that I had, by some miracle, packed an extra pair of jeans. I knew I hadn’t, but I looked anyway.

I submitted to patting the front of my jeans dry with a paper towel. Then I grabbed a new apron and fastened it around my waist.

As I was about to turn and head back out to the floor, Claire came in. She sighed and pressed her back to the wall. “I hate afternoon shifts.”

“I hear you, sister.” I made for the door and stopped to rest a hand on her shoulder. “But they’re usually decent money, right? Helps make up for it.” I winked to try to cheer her up.

She was exhausted, I could tell. Being a single mom to three boys and then having to come to work at a zoo like The Roost was taking its toll.

“Decent money. Right.” Claire nodded as if she were attempting to convince herself the shift wouldn’t be that bad.

I, for one, was certain it would be bad.

I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Just let me know if you need extra hands out there. We can help each other out and cover our sections if one of us needs five minutes to decompress.”

She gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Holly. I don’t know how I’d survive this place without you.”
“That’s how I feel about you too. You keep me sane when Talon is having a temper tantrum.”

Claire giggled, and the two of us returned to the front to resume our serving shifts.

I greeted my first table with a smile and the best attitude I could slap on.

The man sitting closest to me looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at my face. I wondered if he usually wore glasses, and the squinting made his vision better.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I said before diving headlong into the list of daily specials.

As I went through them, I noticed how out of place all four men at the table were. They were all dressed in suits that probably cost more than my brain could fathom. Rings winked on some of their fingers, and I spotted a tattoo on an odd knuckle. They would have looked more at ease in an underground illegal club playing poker while smoking big, fat cigars out of the corner of their mouths.

One of them, a man with a shiny bald head and the broadest shoulders I had ever seen on a man, turned slightly to face me. He looked me up and down, starting at my feet, and then gave me a crooked smile that never showed his teeth. My chest tightened and the hairs on my arms stood up.

Danger.

He ran his thumb along his jaw before stroking his chin. “Well, hello there,” his eyes flicked to my name tag, “Holly.”

“Hi.”

“You don’t look like the sort of girl who should be waiting tables in a place like this,” he purred.

I internally rolled my eyes but kept my expression neutral as I anticipated a job offer at a sleazy bar where I would probably be expected to wear six-inch heels and lingerie to work.

“You don’t look like the sort of man to be having lunch at a place like this, either, but here we are.” I delivered the words with a smile and a teasing kind of attitude. I knew how to navigate my way around this kind of customer.

He chuckled and so did his buddies. “All right, Holly. I hear you. Just a pitcher of beer for me and my boys here.”

“Anything to eat?”

“What I want isn’t on the menu, sweet cheeks.”

This time I couldn’t keep myself from rolling my eyes. “Listen, I have a job to do here, nothing else. I’m not going to indulge in this type of conversation every time I come by your table this afternoon, all right?” My tone was sharp and demanding, and I was a little proud of myself for having the nerve to tell him to, in nicer terms, shut the fuck up.

He chuckled again. “I apologize.”

I nodded and ran my palms over my apron. “Thank you. I’ll be right back with your beer.”

I left their table and found myself dreading going back to serve them. I considered seeing if another server would switch sections with me, but as I looked around at the others I could ask, I quickly decided against it. Talon would never step in to help, and the guys at the table would probably scare the shit out of him anyway. And besides Talon, the only others I could ask were younger female servers. I wasn’t going to offer them up like pigs for slaughter to those business goons.

I held my chin high when I returned to their table with a pitcher of beer and four glasses. I set it all down and didn’t bother filling their glasses for them. Instead, I asked again if they wanted to order food, and they surprised me by all putting in orders.

Twenty minutes later, when I returned with plates of burgers and fries, the same bald man who had hit on me drummed his fingers on the table.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, the impulse to pop my hip out like an irritated diva rippling through me. Instead, I put my hand on my hip.

“No, nothing at all. I just wanted to ask. Do you know Jax?”

I was hit with a dozen thoughts all at once. The dire ones pressed to the foreground of my mind as I studied the man in front of me.

These assholes wouldn’t come into The Roost to ask me if I knew Jax unless they already knew I did. Lying would be foolish and could land me in hot water quickly. I wasn’t up for playing any games with men like these. They’d walk circles around me before I knew they had me in their jaws.

“Yeah. He’s an old friend from high school.”

“Is he now?”

I nodded, nervousness fluttering in my belly. “We used to be close, but I moved away and just came back about a month ago. It’s been nice to have at least one person in this crazy city while I find a normal routine again.”

“You were gone a long time?”

“Six or so years, yeah.”

He lifted his eyebrows and took a mouthful of beer. When he swallowed, I noticed a scar bobbing along his Adam’s apple.

“A piece of advice from someone who has spent a lot of time around men like Jax. You should keep your distance from him, sweetheart. Keep that pretty head of yours down here with all these normal folk.”

I wanted to tell him to get stuffed. I wanted to tell him I could handle my damn self. I also wanted to defend Jax, who had never done anything to make me consider him not normal. I pushed down all the urges to spit the words at him and resolved to the less confrontational response instead.

“I appreciate your concern on my behalf, but trust me, I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt you can, little lady. But this life has a way of eating you up and spitting you out as someone different—something different. Jax should know better than to get you involved in this shit.”

What shit? I wondered as I bit down hard on my tongue to keep myself from speaking the question aloud. I forced a smile on my lips and shrugged off the conversation. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else or just the bill?”

“Just the bill, sweets,” the bald one said with a grin.

When I turned and walked to my register, I half expected him to slap my ass, but he didn’t. I could feel all their eyes burning holes in my back as I went, though, and that was uncomfortable enough.

I brought the bill back to their table and placed it between them all. “Take your time.” I turned on my heel and didn’t give them the opportunity to strike up another conversation. I wanted these men out of the restaurant as soon as possible, and then I wanted to warn Jax what had happened.

In all my years knowing him, I had never been questioned by men who certainly didn’t work nine to five jobs. These guys were thugs, criminals, crime lords—who the fuck knew? All I was sure of was that they were dangerous, and now they knew where I worked.

This left my heart fluttering nervously. If they had come in here to find me, what else did they know about me?

Did they know I had a son?

Fuck.

Did they know where I was living at Kim’s place? Did they know about Kim?

I untied my apron and hurried into the break room to catch my breath as panic started clawing at my throat.

I grabbed a bottle of water from my bag and sipped on it as I paced back and forth. I was overreacting. I had to be. If those men really wanted to send a message, it would have been clearer, more direct, and probably violent.

They wouldn’t just come in and have burgers and ask a few questions about the guy I was seeing.

Or would they?

“Pull it together, Holly,” I mumbled to myself. “You’re getting worked up over something that might be nothing. Jax will know what to do.”

Just then the door to the break room flew open, and Talon marched in. “You’re still on the clock. Get your ass back out there and finish with your tables. I didn’t say you could take a break.”

I took another greedy gulp from my water bottle. “I had a table that frightened me, Talon. You can afford to give me a minute to get my bearings and have some water.”

He scowled at me and crossed his arms. “Get on the floor, now.”

I paused with the cap half screwed on my water bottle. “Fine.” I took the top off and marched forward, my lips peeling off my teeth in an angry snarl as I lifted the water bottle and shook it violently at Talon.

The water splashed out, soaking his entire front. He yelped and looked up at me, horrified. I tossed the now empty bottle over my shoulder.

“Stop treating your staff like we’re less than you, Talon. Or mark my words, I’m bringing some of my friends here to set you straight. I’m tired of your bullshit. You own a family restaurant, not a high-class hotel.”

Talon coughed and sputtered as I headed out the door back to the floor.

The table of four goons was now empty, and when I went to collect their dishes, I found a tip waiting for me. Two fresh hundred-dollar bills had been tucked under one of the plates, and wrapped around it was a sticky note with slanted handwriting scribbled across it.

“Thanks for the service, doll face. You’re a real charmer. Jax doesn’t

deserve you.

-TJ”