Author: Roni Loren
“No, this will be all. Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” She gave him a bright smile and sauntered off, the walk just as impressive from the reverse angle. He liked that she moved around with the confidence of a woman who knew she drew attention from the opposite sex and was okay with that—no apologies or self-consciousness. She wouldn’t be the type to insist on doing it in the dark.
Awareness stirred below his belt as he imagined peeling her out of that uniform, tasting that pink-glossed mouth. He shifted in the booth. God, he needed to make some time to get laid. His body was reacting like a fucking teenager drooling over the head cheerleader. Ridiculous. Ever since his colleagues-with-benefits thing had ended with Gwen two months earlier, he’d been working too much to seek out anyone else. But if he didn’t set something up soon, he was going to have to stop coming here and putting temptation in front of himself.
He watched Kelsey maneuver toward the front of the restaurant as he broke off a piece of the muffin and put it in his mouth. Wow, that was good. Moist and still warm and not too sweet. The balance of flavors was complex enough to stand up in one of those frou-frou bakeries where they charged you six bucks for a pastry. No wonder the girl wanted to go to culinary school. He was no chef, but he recognized skill when he tasted it. And she was wasting that in some hole-in-the-wall cafe.
Not your business, his mind warned him.
Wyatt glanced at the clock on the wall. He hadn’t shown up this late for work in longer than he could remember. His assistant was probably all aflutter, wondering if he was dead on the highway or something. Mr. Routine had deviated. Call the press! His phone was on vibrate in his laptop bag, but he had no doubt there’d be messages.
But right when he was about to pull his gaze away from Kelsey and grab his cell out of his bag’s pocket, she halted mid-step, panic freezing her features. Wyatt followed her line of sight to the man who’d walked into the diner. Stocky and spiky-haired with a mean set to his mouth, the guy looked like a human version of a hyena. Kelsey turned quickly toward the kitchen, the tray in her hand wobbling, but the hyena had already locked his sights on her and was making his way in her direction.
A cold feeling crawled up the back of Wyatt’s neck, his protective instincts going on full alert. This man meant trouble. Without moving his attention away from the guy, Wyatt gathered his papers and laptop and tucked them in the bag, preparing in case he needed to intervene.
Kelsey was on a hasty path to the kitchen, but before she could slip behind the counter, the guy laid a hand on her upper arm—a grab, really—and leaned next to her ear to whisper something. For a casual onlooker, the gesture would probably appear friendly, like someone she knew giving her a message. But even from behind, Wyatt could see her body go ramrod straight, could see that she didn’t want this person near her. He had the instant urge to break the guy’s nubby little fingers for daring to touch her.
She nodded stiffly and set her tray down on the counter. The guy nudged her toward the back end of the restaurant. She ventured a quick glance toward the kitchen as she took a step away from the counter, but the kid manning the griddle didn’t seem to notice anything was going on. Wyatt was already on his feet though, heading in that direction. He didn’t want to make a scene if this was, perish the thought, a lovers’ squabble or something. But he’d learned to follow his instincts in business and they never let him down, so he wasn’t going to distrust them in a situation like this.
The man was moving at a casual pace, but he was clearly guiding a reluctant Kelsey to the back exit. Wyatt let them stay a few steps ahead, so he wouldn’t be noticed. But if the two slipped out the back door, he was going to have to get involved. No way was he letting that punk get Kelsey alone in the alley.
“Mr. Austin! Wait!”
Wyatt turned, the instinct to respond to his name automatic, and the other waitress was waving a hand at him and holding his bag. “You forgot your things.”
“Put them behind the counter for me. I’ll be right back.” He quickly turned back toward the exit, but the heavy door was already closed. “Fuck.”
No longer caring who saw him, he jogged toward the door and shoved it open, blinking for a second so his eyes could adjust to the sunlight. “Kelsey.”
A small gasp.
He turned to the left to find Kelsey pressed up against the dirty wall and hyena-man looming over her, his arms braced on each side of her. Trapping her.
“It’s all right, man. Go back inside. I’m just having a little chat with my girlfriend,” the guy said, his easy tone not matching the spark of menace in his dark eyes.
Red leaked into Wyatt’s vision. “Get your fucking hands off her, or we’re going to have a problem.”
“Oh, really, GQ? What are you going to do?” He moved one hand off the wall and grabbed a knife from his waistband. “You going to choke me with your necktie?”
Kelsey’s gaze darted to Wyatt’s—but where he expected to see fear, he saw rage. He had only a split second to figure out she didn’t plan to stand by and let him handle things. “Kelsey, d—”
But before he got his words out, Kelsey jerked her knee upward, hitting the guy square in the nuts. The howl of pain echoed down the alley as the guy doubled over, and Kelsey ducked and juked left out of trajectory. Acting on pure adrenaline, Wyatt launched himself at the guy linebacker style, going straight for the arm wielding the knife, and slammed the guy’s hand against the wall. The knife clattered to the ground, but the guy swung at him with the other fist.
The punch landed against Wyatt’s jaw, almost knocking his glasses off his face, but the pain barely registered because the desire to maim, torture, and annihilate was burning like a bonfire in him. This scumbag had threatened Kelsey. Sweet, beautiful Kelsey. He grabbed the guy by the throat and smashed him against the wall again, using the extra inches of height he had on the guy to his full advantage. “You want to hit me again, asshole? Try it. Swing at me and give me a reason to choke you.”
Hyena’s eyes flooded with challenge. “Empty fucking threat. You know that bitch piece of ass isn’t worth getting a lifetime in jail.”
Wyatt’s grip tightened. He’d never thought himself capable of killing another person, but in that moment, he would’ve enjoyed ridding the world of this trash. He bared his teeth as he pressed just a little harder against the guy’s windpipe. “Oh, really? You’re going to count on that? I have lawyers so good that I could choke you right in the middle of the fucking restaurant and be lauded in the papers as a hero. So don’t. Fucking. Tempt. Me.”
The guy’s eyes bugged a bit at that, whether from the threat or the pressure on his throat, Wyatt didn’t care. Hyena wet his lips, and his voice came out hoarse. “Fine. Just let go, man.”
Police sirens wailed in the background, echoing against the buildings.
Wyatt eased the pressure and smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that. In a minute.”
The guy closed his eyes, sagging in Wyatt’s grip.
An hour and an ice pack later, Wyatt sat on the back steps outside the restaurant, watching as the last cop car pulled away. He’d asked them to make sure to not release details of the event. The last thing he needed was the press picking this up. His father would love that. Kelsey, who’d been standing at the end of the alley, turned around. She had her arms wrapped around herself and carried a hollow look in her eyes.
When she got close, he lowered the ice pack and saw the tears that shimmered in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Mr. Austin. Is it bad?”
He set the ice pack aside, pushed himself to stand, and dusted off his slacks. “Please, I think we’ve moved on to the stage where you can call me Wyatt. And I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and a thousand responses seemed to touch her lips in rapid time, her mouth twitching. But after a few too many failed attempts at speaking, she simply flung herself at him, stunning him with a hug. His arms went out to his sides as if they’d forgotten the proper response to being embraced, and he looked down his body at the woman he’d so often imagined touching.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his shirt.
God, she was warm. And her scent . . . Who’d have ever thought bacon and maple syrup could smell so goddamned perfect on a woman? The thought that anyone would want to harm her had his rage firing up anew.
Unable to hold back any longer, he gave into the urge and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him as she let the adrenaline and the emotions drain out of her.
The back door of the restaurant cracked open, and the kid from the kitchen peeked out, concern weighing heavy on his boyish features. He’d come outside a few times to check on Kelsey, and Wyatt had instantly liked him. “You okay, baby girl?”
Kelsey stepped out of Wyatt’s embrace with an apologetic smile and swiped at her face. “I’m fine, Nathan. Thanks for checking on me. And for calling the cops.”
“I’ve only got an hour left on my shift. Want me to give you a ride home after?” Nathan asked, looking between her and Wyatt.
“I—”
“I’ve got her,” Wyatt said, cutting her off.
Kelsey’s head whipped around. “Mr. Au— Wyatt, you don’t have to do that.”
“You worked all night and you’ve had a hell of a morning. You don’t need to be waiting around here. I want you in bed.”
Nathan’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his shaggy bangs.
“Resting,” Wyatt clarified.
Kelsey actually gave him a half smile on that one, some of the color coming back into her cheeks. “Yes, sir.”
He should’ve told her to drop the sir. But for reasons he’d rather not examine at the moment, he wasn’t in a hurry to stop hearing that little gem roll off her lips.
He pressed his hand to the small of her back to lead her back up the stairs, reciting in his head: Too young. Too sweet. Too messy.
CHAPTER TWO
Kelsey stared out the side window of Wyatt’s BMW, trying to get her skin to stop crawling and her heart to stop its attempt to bust out of her chest. When Howie Miller had stepped into the restaurant, it was like being yanked back eighteen months—her life rewinding and then hitting the play button at the shittiest part.
Well, almost the shittiest part.
She’d been so careful. Had picked up and moved her whole life to a completely new area. She’d even registered her apartment and all her utilities under another name. And the cops had said they would never reveal that she’d been the informant. But the look in Howie’s eyes when he’d pushed her against the wall had said he knew exactly whose information had put his brother in jail. If Wyatt hadn’t followed her out there and distracted him . . . She didn’t even want to think about it. In that world, being a snitch was a capital offense. And Howie had looked more than ready to mete out her punishment.
Wyatt, who’d been quiet for the last few miles, glanced over at her. The lingering anger over what Howie had done hovered there in the tense lines of his face and his grip on the wheel. He looked as if he wanted to beat up the guy all over again. “What did that punk want with you? I’m guessing it wasn’t a random attack.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she said, turning back toward the window, wishing she didn’t have to have this conversation with Wyatt. Wyatt, who only knew her as the chatty waitress and his brother’s friend. Nothing else. None of the ugly stuff. She’d hoped it could remain that way.
“Was he an ex or something?”
She grimaced, the idea making her stomach turn. “God, no.”
Wyatt blew out a breath like that was the best news he’d heard all day. “Then what?”
She glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the silver bracelet she’d treated herself to when she’d celebrated her first year sober. That day had felt like such a fresh start, like a new life was there for the taking. But apparently the dregs of her past were determined to stir up and muddy everything again. “I helped put his brother in jail a while back. He wasn’t supposed to know it was me, but I guess he figured it out and was coming to pay me back.”
