Page 135 of Falling for the Enemy

“Ya think?” She scanned the back with wide eyes. “Is Richard here yet?”

“Who’s Richard?”

No time to waste on introductions, Jocelyn rushed to the back kitchen where the stench only got stronger. Richard was dressed in black rubber gloves and a soiled apron, tossing rotten fish out the back door into a trash bin.

“Richard, what the hell happened?” she said, breathing through her hand.

“Power went out, and the generator never kicked on. I’m working on the situation.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of so much food being thrown away. “What are the guests going to eat?”

“I already called every supplier within forty miles. But it’s Saturday. Nobody’s picking up. I’m hoping we can borrow some frozen options from the Chowder House to get us through, but they don’t open for another hour.”

That was never going to work with the fall festival still going on. The Chowder House needed their own food. “I might be able to get you some backup fish.”

He dragged an arm over his sweaty brow, holding the black rubber glove away from his face. “That would be great.”

She pulled out her phone. “You just keep working on the smell.”

No fish meant no menu, and she had fifty guests to feed in a few hours. Esther’s cake and a bowl of mixed nuts were not going to be enough.

Her stomach turned from the odor as much as it did from tension. She texted Soren, asking him to call her as soon as he got her text. He was the CEO of Hawthorne Fishery. He had VIP access to all the fish in Hideaway.

“Okay.” She dropped her purse on the host stand and flattened her palms against the wood to steady herself. “Okay,” she repeated, talking only to herself as others bustled around her. “What covers up rotten fish?” She rubbed her temples, unable to think through the suffocating stench, then yelled, “Can someone open some windows and maybe find an air freshener or twelve?”

She tried calling Soren again. Her phone beeped in her ear, alerting her that the battery was back to ten percent. That’s what happened when she didn’t start the day with a full charge. The damn thing never seemed to catch up.

She dug through her purse, looking for a charger that—of course—was not there.

Growling when the call once again dumped into voicemail, she sent another text, past the point of pretending she was calm.

Fish emergency. Half the menu’s dead. Are you getting here soon? I need you.

She hit send. The phone chirped in her palm. Athin, mocking banner slid down the screen.

Low Battery 5%

“You have got to be kidding me. It’s been ten seconds.” She jabbed the banner away and buried the phone in her back pocket, refusing to acknowledge the small, cold dread that tickled under her ribs.

The bell above the door chimed.

“Yoo-hoo!” Esther swept in behind a tower of white bakery boxes stacked to her chin. The warm perfume of vanilla and butter briefly—mercifully—cut through the stench of decaying fish. “Where do you—” Her words abruptly cut off. “Oh, Jocelyn, love, what is that smell?”

“Fish. We have an issue, but it’s being handled. Here, let me help you with that.” She carefully removed the top box from the pile in Esther’s arms.

“Phew!” She blinked as her eyes started to water. “Where do you want the cake? It’s four tiers, so I’ll need a sturdy table, nothing wobbly.”

“Back left, by the windows. There’s a reinforced table already set.”

“And the whoopie pies?”

“Same table.” She set the smaller box down. “You’re a saint.”

“I know.” Esther bustled off, and the bell jangled again before the door swung shut.

Astrid and Bodhi drifted in on a cloud of patchouli and dried herbs.

“What are you guys doing here? The party doesn’t start for hours.”