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Chapter 1
Patriot Plaza Truck Stop
Karl Bartholomew dreamed of a warm, supple woman arching into his caress. Her hair smelled faintly of fresh-cut lemons and her smooth skin felt delicate under his hands. Her long legs tangled with his and he turned his face into the sweet touch of her hand, kissing her palm.
An alarm sounded, shrill and unwelcome, jerking him out of the dream. She wasn’t his. Couldn’t be his. Not even in his subconscious.
The shrill sound of the alarm blared in his ear and he reached over and slapped at the clock on the nightstand until it fell to the floor. After a long night going over the monthly financial reports, he’d planned to sleep an extra hour before heading back to work.
The alarm screamed again and with an oath, he realized it wasn’t the alarm clock at all. It was his phone, screaming with the abrasive ringtone he set for business calls from the truck stop downstairs.
He rolled to his side, trying to focus on the display long enough to check the time. 5:15 AM flashed brightly above the symbols to answer or ignore the call.
When he’d left the Army for the private sector, he really hadn’t thought through his business decisions. There were thousands of other ventures that didn’t require a man to rise at stupid-early hours. But he hadn’t chosen any of those. He’d chosen to go his own way and create a solitary haven for truckers and travelers on this sparsely populated stretch of Interstate 95 in the middle of nowhere Virginia.
He managed to swipe the right symbol and accept the call. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jenny, sir. I’m locked out.”
Bart sat up. Since he’d added a restaurant two years ago, his cook, Tim Jensen, was always first in and he unlocked the doors for the first shift cashiers.
“Did you try around back?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s Bart,” he said, tossing aside the sheets. Jenny was new to the staff and young enough thatsirwas still entrenched from her high school days.
“Yes, s— Bart,” she said. “Tim’s car isn’t here.”
“Okay. I’ll be right down.”
He was ready and dressed in a matter of minutes, pulling on clean cargo pants and a t-shirt from the neatly folded stacks in the closet. He shoved his feet into a worn pair of boots and dropped his phone and keys into his pockets. God bless the Army for teaching him an efficiency not even the past seven years of civilian life had erased. And God bless civilian life for the more relaxed attitude about shaving.
Those ingrained habits were part of the reason he’d hired Tim in the first place, he thought, hurrying down the stairs from his apartment to the main store. An Army infantry veteran,Tim swore he was up every morning anyway, might as well be productive instead of playing solitaire on his laptop.
Bart understood exactly what the older man meant. Sometimes it was the crap they’d survived, other times it was the utter lack of excitement. Either way, sleep wasn’t something that came easy for either of them.
Following habit, his glance swept over this side of his property, counting the trucks parked in the overnight area. The diesel engines rumbled where drivers had slept over and soon they’d be up and wanting breakfast before getting back on the road.
His brilliant business expansion didn’t seem quite so great in the pre-dawn hours when he was the one doing the cooking.
“Morning,” he said to Jenny who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He shook out the key and opened the deadbolt, then tapped his wallet across the gray square security panel. The card in his wallet greeted the panel, making happy electronic noises as the locks opened. The perky sound irritated him.
“There you go.”
“Thank you, si—”
He cut her off with a look.
“I mean, thank you.”
“Thanks for calling me.” The girl had initiative, a quality he looked for in his staff. His monthly networking with other business owners assured him most employees at her pay level would have simply gone back home. “I’ll unlock the register for you and then get started in the kitchen.” He checked the clock above the door. “If any of them ask, tell them we’re fifteen minutes behind.”
Everything looked normal in the dining room as he walked through, but he only turned the lights on over the counter. He checked the staff board, pleased to see Maria was on the schedule for a double shift today. The oldest of the waitresses,the woman moved faster than lightning, made everyone smile, and never let a coffee cup run dry.
Bart flipped switches, turning on lights as he headed for the walk-in cooler. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted two large pans of the breakfast casseroles Tim made up for weekend service.
He carried those out to the prep table and turned on the oven to preheat. The casseroles would salvage the schedule and satisfy the early risers until Tim showed up. Bart stared at the grill and fryers, hoping like hell it didn’t come down to him doing the cooking. Owner or not, his Army service had focused more on covert ops than cheese omelets.
