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What the hell?
Maybe he’s an actor? We get a lot of them since the diner is near the studios. He looks like he could be Rambo’s son. Whatever, I don’t get a creepy vibe from him. Who cares that he’s a quiet regular?
Joy’s right. I need to get out of here. But it’s not like I can blink myself back to the safety of Axel’s room. I’m not walking after creepy guy was here.
God, I can imagine him following me and having no choice but to kill him… With what? My good looks? Rolling my eyes, I make my way to the office again.
Poor Victor looks up from the grill as I pass. I try to smile, but he frowns, so I guess that didn’t work. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I was rude to a regular customer and he truly did see me perform in New York and he knew it was my birthday from the playbill. That’s absurd. No way can that be true, and if it is, he’s still creepy to have memorized all my information. Either way, I’m not being paranoid. I’m telling Axel.
I head straight for my bag in the office to get my phone and call. This is turning out to be a horrendous birthday. God, I hope this isn’t a foreshadowing of the year to come.
Pushing on his number, absently I think about my birthday last year. I was sitting in a dance class with Bella arguing about not wanting her to take me out to dinner.
Bella. I suck as a friend. She’s probably tried to call me at my old number and is freaking because it’s disconnected. I know I was hurt. But that was over a month ago. She’s one of my best friends. If I were her, I’d probably have done the same thing. Well, I wouldn’t, but I love her and need to at least check in and give her my new number. I make a mental note to call her later as I stare at black-and-white movie posters hanging on the wall showing Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner smoking and drinking. The other wall has Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.
“Antoinette.” His voice is deep and gravelly. All-around sexy. I hate that my pulse leaps when I hear my name. I hate that I want him. I hate a lot about today, but I’m done keeping quiet. I tell him my truth.
“I need you.”AXEL“What’s wrong?” My boots drop from where I’ve propped them on the wooden conference table, and I instantly grab the burner phone that’s only for Drake, the ex-marine I have trailing Antoinette.
No missed calls. I take a breath. My heart is pounding, which is not improving my humor.
“I… don’t want to hide things anymore.” She sighs. “So, there’s a creepy guy who’s been coming into the diner and today was bad.”
“What do you mean?” I hiss. “Give me details, baby.” I look over at Blade who has stopped talking on the phone to listen to me.
“Everything okay?” His eyes reflect concern.
“Edge needs to go to the diner now and get David on the phone.”
Blade looks at me and starts barking out orders. To say we’re tense is a fucking joke. From the moment I walked in, it’s been one thing after another. Some group held up one of our trucks this morning. It was filled with guns from the Russians. Ryder killed one of the thieves, which stopped the heist. But he’s still not back from getting rid of the body.
David is meeting with the Russians to feel them out, so we’re already spread thin. Hearing creepy guy coming out of Antoinette’s mouth makes me want to fucking start killing. And I’ll start with Drake.
Where the fuck is he?
“Okay.” She’s all business and my heart aches. I ignore it as I run my hands through my hair. I need to calm down or I’ll make a mistake and that’s unacceptable.
“Slowly, tell me everything.”
“So, I started feeling like I was being watched a while ago. I thought maybe I was being paranoid, you know?”
“No, I don’t know! Why didn’t you tell me?” I say sharply. Maybe it was Drake. “It doesn’t matter. Go on.”
“This guy starts to coming in, insisting on my section. He looks familiar, but I know I haven’t met him. It’s bugged me every time I wait on him.”
“Okay.” Again I want to address that she needs to always tell me these things. But since I haven’t prepped her for any of this, the blame is mine. I’m clenching my jaw so tight I can feel the pulse in my temple. I text Drake on the burner phone.
“He’s not right. Like in his eyes, I can tell,” she says.
The burner instantly vibrates with a text from Drake: I’ve been watching him. Pictures coming.
And I almost throw the phone. Where the fuck did Snipe find this guy? He’s been watching him and didn’t let me know? If he lives without me putting a bullet in his head, it will be a miracle. The ding of a picture brings me back to the now.
