What is with this guy?I took a step toward the counter, expecting him to follow. “Why don’t we check the menu?—”
“We need to speak.” His hand shot out, and he grabbed my wrist, holding me in place. The grip wasn’t painfully tight, but firm enough that I couldn’t easily pull free. “She had pale eyes. Green, like yours?”
I tried to move further away, but he didn’t let go. “Sir, please?—”
“Do we have a problem here?” a deep voice asked from behind me. His voice had been like thunder the first time I’d heard it, but now, it felt more like a security blanket. Tristan’s friend appeared beside me with his frown aimed at the Russian man.
I’d handled difficult customers before, but… I twisted my arm out of his grip, accidentally snapping it into the expanse of muscle that now stood next to me.
The Russian canted his head back, as though the angle would allow him to speak down his nose at a man who was inches tallerthan he was. He muttered something that wasn’t English and definitely sounded dismissive.
Tristan’s friend responded in kind—in Russian?—and folded his massive arms.
Tristan joined us, his usual easy smile nowhere in sight. “Everything okay, Galahad?”
Galahad? His name was Galahad?Who names their kid Galahad?And what were the odds he was friends with a guy named Tristan?
“He believes we’re causing a scene,” said Galahad.
“I was looking at the photos”—the Russian man gestured at the wall—”and speaking with this woman.Youare the ones causing the scene.”
Galahad inched closer, shifting his body so he was slightly in front of me. “And you’re the one who called me a shithead.”
“Clearly, you misheard. I saidmundir, notmudak. You’re obviously military.”
Galahad said something else in Russian that wasn’t him agreeing. Not only had he come to my defense, but he’d done it in a foreign language. Who was this guy?
The Russian man peered around Galahad at me. “I would order some of your coffee now.”
“No.” Galahad stepped forward, and his broad shoulders blocked my view of the entire room. “It’s time for you to leave.”
The Russian continued speaking. I didn’t understand a word of it, but it was far from friendly.
Galahad unfolded his arms and put them on his hips. This sounded like the start of a fight—one I didn’t want inside my shop.
“It’s fine.” I touched Galahad’s back and stepped out from behind him. “I’ll take his order. No need for?—”
“You heard him.” Tristan’s voice carried across the now-silent café. “Let’s take this outside.”
The Russian cleared his throat. “I only wish to enjoy the coffee.”
“Yeah?” Galahad shifted again, keeping himself between the man and me, but didn’t cut off my view this time. “Then why were you harassing the owner?”
“I was curious about the photographs.” The Russian raised his hands. “If they are not for people to admire, why hang them here?”
“Outside.” Galahad grabbed the man’s upper arm. “Now.”
The man tried to jerk away, but Tristan was already blocking his path to the counter. They herded him around me and to the door, unaffected by his twisting and shoving against them or by the stream of what had to be curses pouring out of him.
As they reached the entrance, a sheet of paper fluttered from the Russian’s coat pocket.
Everyone watched as the three men argued by an empty bistro table on the sidewalk. Luckily, no one was sitting out there this morning. The Russian’s face went red, and his hands flew wildly to punctuate his words, but Galahad remained perfectly calm. The man backed up on the sidewalk, nearly colliding with a couple of my regulars who detoured around the shop rather than coming in.
What was happening? Why was I standing by through this whole ordeal? I should have been taking care of my customers. Or the men outside. It had all happened so?—
“Grace?” Vanessa’s voice snapped me out of my spiral. She held a small piece of paper in her hand. “This fell out of the guy’s pocket.”
It was an old photograph, its edges worn and creased, with a familiar face. My stomach flipped over, and I had to put a hand on her arm to stay upright. I looked up at the Russian man distancing himself from the men outside, at Tristan waving him off, and back at the photo.
