Once the lunch rush calmed down, I snuck off to the back for a breather. It wasn’t like we were slammed anymore, and besides, Amanda was a pro and could handle it alone. Five minutes and I’d slink back in. No one would miss me.

Finding a darkened corner in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and swiped the back of my hand across my forehead. It was the first moment I had to myself and I wasn’t going to waste it. I knew my phone was tapped, but I was past the point of giving a shit. Pulling it out of my apron, I dialed the number I knew by heart, praying for an answer. When the voice mail kicked in again, my soul shattered.

“Hey,” I said, managing a lift to my voice as I wiped away tear. “It’s me. I guess this is the fifth message I’ve left and I just—I really need to know you’re okay. Please call me back.”

Ending the call, I hugged the phone to my chest, refusing to break down. My knees bent on their own, and I almost sank to the floor when a loud crash locked me in place.

“I have no idea. Why don’t you find out for yourself?” A heavily accented voice boomed from an opened crack in the door to my right.

Every instinct told me this had to be Emilio Reyes. I knew eavesdropping was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop myself. Pausing outside, I leaned in and listened for more.

“Look, I did my part. It’s not my fault the useless piece of shit couldn’t get the job done.”

Taking a few cautious steps, I peeked around the edge of the door. He sat at his desk, papers and invoices strewn everywhere, his black slicked back hair and moustache illuminated by the bright glow from his laptop.

“Hey,” he shouted, his patience gone. “No digas mi nombre. Estás en una oficina pública, idiota.” Don’t say my name. You’re in a public office, idiot.

Understanding him wasn’t a problem. I found foreign language fascinating, and much to my mother’s dismay became fluent in Spanish fairly quickly. The translation wasn’t what turned my stomach. I’d been with Luis long enough to know when a Latino man got angry, shit was bad. However, when a Latino man got angry and flipped from English to Spanish, shit was about to hit the fan.

“Un momento, por favor.” One moment please.

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Performing a half twist, I slammed my chest against the wall and focused on what was in front of me. Unfortunately, it happened to be a few framed ‘employee of the month’ photos. Lewd snapshots of Emilio and whatever poor girl he’d conned into posing with him while he blatantly groped her chest. It disgusted me, but I stared at it like it was a fucking Picasso.

“Can I help you with something?”

His breath was hot on the back of my neck and it made me nauseous. I wanted to rip the damn picture off the wall and hit him with it, but at the last minute, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

You can do this.

“No, I’m new here, and I’m just admiring everyone’s accomplishments.”

God, that was horrible. He’ll never buy that.

“Ah, yes, you’re Harcourt’s sister. Leighton, right?”

I nodded, furiously swallowing, yet still drowning in my own thick saliva.

“That’s Monica,” he said, tapping the glass with a dirty fingernail. “She was such a hard worker. Always took one for the team.”

Gross.

“Was?”

“Whose position do you think you filled?”

I pointed to another picture. “And her?”

I knew exactly who she was. It was a test.

Game on, boss.

Emilio cleared his throat, his tone taking on a less enticing tone. “That’s Eden. She left.”

“Then why is her picture still up?”

“House-fucking-orders.”

Hostility. Interesting.

I wanted to push him more just to see if I could get him to crack, but by the anger vibrating off him, being trapped between a wall and his aggression was the last place I needed to be. “Well,” I said, painting on a brilliant smile and turning to face him. “Maybe I’ll be up here someday.”

“I don’t know, Leighton Harcourt. Are your skills good enough to impress me?”

My smile widened, and I held it so long my chin quivered. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

A slow smile crept along his lips, parting them to display a mouthful of silver caps. “Counting on it.”

I nodded, inching sideways. I’d almost passed his office door when he grabbed my arm.

“Oh, and Leighton, I heard you were late. I know everything that goes on in my bar. Underestimating me would be your first mistake here.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, nodding like a bobblehead. “It won’t happen again.”

He licked his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

An hour after my run-in with Emilio, I replayed our conversation over in my head. I poured over every word and scrutinized his body language, looking for something to use as a starting point when a voice from behind scared the shit out of me.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Letting out a yelp, I whipped around to see Amanda, her perfectly styled brown hair now disheveled and caked with salsa and guacamole. Crumpling my apron in my hand, I gave it a shake as change jingled inside. “That’s about all I’ve made so far today, so with yours maybe I’ll have enough for the gumball machine.”

“It gets better,” she promised, then squished her face into a grimace. “Well, it gets not so shitty. You get regulars who’ll tip better, and the night crowd wallets are always more open.”

“Well, it can’t get any worse,” I grumbled.

“Not today it doesn’t.”

“Huh?”

“Your first table on your own and you just got sat with one hell of a hottie. I tried to take it off your hands, but he specifically asked for you. I swear, you blondes really do have more fun.”

I started to tell her that blondes also get into more trouble when I happened to glance to where she pointed. I didn’t know whether to be irritated or excited. “That’s no hottie,” I said with a sigh. “That’s my brother.” Leaving her standing there, I stomped toward the small table on the other side of the bar.

Crouching down, I whispered in his ear, “Business lunch get rerouted or did the governor have a hankering for shitty fajitas?”

I expected him to jump. Instead, he straightened his spine and cocked his head. “That’s a hell of a way to sell the menu, sis.”

Trailing a fingernail along the edge of the table, I shifted to stand beside him. He glanced up at me with a sincere smile, certainly looking the part of an assistant district attorney: crisp black suit, white starched shirt, and his signature red power tie.

“Life’s too short to eat bad food.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I really like the salsa.”

Liar.

“Maybe you just wanted to check up on me.”

“Or maybe my business lunch got pushed back, and I decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

I winced. “Bad choice of wording, Brody.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, regret in his eyes. “Speaking of which, we need to talk about your problem.”

No way were we discussing this. Not here. “There’s no problem anymore, right?”

“As far as I know. However, a problem just doesn’t go away when there are no answers, Leighton,” he chastised with a pitying look. “I think you owe me a few, don’t you? This isn’t a normal situation and you know it. Why didn’t you question me yesterday? You never do what I say without an argument, and this isn’t a normal favor.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” I shot back, digging in my apron for my order pad. I didn’t like how the tables had turned, and I needed to divert his attention.

He sighed my name long and hard. “Leighton…”

Bending down low, I whispered in his ear, “I don’t care to know what happened to him or why. Now leave it alone.”

I could hear his teeth grinding, deciding whether to fire back or pick his battles. Luckily for me, he wasn’t declaring war. “Fine. Can I get a beer then?”

“In the middle of the day?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tapped his wristwatch. “I’m clocking out. Would you like to card me, too, or are we going to argue about that as well?”

“I thought you had someone from the DA’s office meeting you?”

“Not that it concerns you, but no, I’m meeting an associate from RVC Enterprises. I’ve decided to expand my investment portfolio, and it’s a solid real estate company. I’d be stupid not to get my hands in it.”

Get your hands dirty is more like it.

RVC Enterprises was a money laundering front for Valentin Carrera and everyone knew it. My brother was an idiot if he thought people would see him any differently. It pissed me off he thought I was clueless enough to buy his line of bullshit.

“RVC, huh? And will you be meeting with the lady who runs it?” Since Carrera left Houston, rumor had it that his secretary had taken over the day-to-day operations.

“No, smartass. For your information, I’m meeting with the second largest shareholder, Mateo Cortes.”

Son of a bitch.

It couldn’t be this easy. Emilio and Mateo in one building? Everything was falling into place. This time my smile was real. Vindication did that to a person, and luckily, it filled all the available places in my brain, so thoughts of Luis couldn’t sneak in. Shoving my order pad back in my apron, I gave Brody’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “One beer, coming right up.”

“And one for Mateo when he gets here.” He grinned. “But hold the sarcasm.”

Rolling my eyes, I returned to the bar where the useless bartender sat in the middle of the sticky floor mat flipping through the pages of Bartending for Dummies.

I wish I were kidding.

“Hey, Sarah?” I lifted onto my tiptoes and yelled down to her, hoping I got her name right. “Do you mind if I pour a beer for a customer?”

She shrugged, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders as she motioned to the page she’d dog-eared. “Knock yourself out. I’m only up to the D’s. Who the hell would drink something called a Dirty Martini?”

Ugh. Where did Emilio find these morons?

Choosing to keep my comments to myself, I stared at the back of Brody’s head as I tipped the mug and poured the beer from the tap.

As much as this felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, I wasn’t. This was real, and I was on my own. There was no hero at the end to save me.

So, I was saving myself.