Page 16 of Shadow Justice

Holly crossed behind the counter because it gave her something solid between them. The familiar layout helped. Register to her right. Pastry case in front. Espresso machine behind her. Cups stacked by size. Lids arranged in bins. Syrup pumps wiped clean. Everything in its place, waiting for the lunch crowd as if her whole world hadn’t tipped sideways before noon.

Reid followed at a distance, scanning the café in a way that irritated her almost as much as it reassured her. He looked out the front windows to the patio beyond the rain-blurred glass. His attention then turned to the hallway to the restrooms, the swinging door leading to the kitchen, and the narrow staircase near the back that led up to her apartment.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. “The full tour is at three.”

He caught the sarcasm in her tone, ignored it. “I need to do a security sweep.”

She reached for a clean towel and wiped a spotless section of counter because her hands needed something to do to stop them from shaking. “You can start first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I need to start now.”

She tossed the towel beside the sink. “I’m not prepared to train you today. You’ll just be in the way.”

Reid’s expression stayed unemotional. If he’d been brusque or high-handed, she could’ve argued with him. Instead, he was being reasonable, and reasonable men were very hard to throw out when murder had entered the conversation.

“I know this feels invasive,” he said.

“Does it? Because I was going to describe it as delightful.”

“Holly.”

The quiet way he said her name stripped some of the sarcasm from her. She hated that her body still responded to his voice, that he’d remembered the dream she’d once whispered in the dark.

She turned away and adjusted the cup sleeves. “I have a lunch rush coming, Maya will be back any minute, and I need to figure out what to tell her about why you’re suddenly wearing an apron in my shop. I also have dinner plans with Roni.”

“I don’t have to wear an apron.”

“You absolutely do if you’re working behind my counter.”

“Then I’ll wear an apron, but I suggest you cancel your plans with my sister.”

Again, it was said with calm assurance. Her irritation heated in her stomach. “I’m not canceling anything.”

“I’m not ordering you around—you don’t like lying to her. Going to dinner will force you to. That’s all I was suggesting.”

Holly made herself breathe through the tightness in her chest at his nearness, at the way, her pulse sped up every time she met his gorgeous blue eyes. At how stupid she felt that he was right.

Warren Ackles. Sharla Mapes. Nell Truett. She repeated the names and her head like a mantra. Two were dead, and poor, sweet Nell was severely injured. Her broken heart was not the priority.

That was a cold little truth, but it was useful. Reid could stand there with his blue eyes and his familiar mouth and the history she’d spent years folding into a manageable size. None of that changed the fact that someone had used Sanctuary to get close to people. Her people. Her customers. Her staff. Her safe place.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I’m not happy about you being shoved on me.”

He nodded, studying her face closely. “Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s expected.”

Under the circumstances—as if breaking her heart was just an inconvenience. She twisted the towel between her hands. “I refuse to let Sanctuary become unsafe for Maya or for anyone who comes here because they need a place to sit for twenty minutes and feel like the world isn’t chewing on them.”

Reid’s gaze moved over the café again, but this time it didn’t feel tactical. It felt more personal. “You run a tight operation.”

The compliment was practical, almost plain, and somehow it slid under her defenses more effectively than it had any right to. Her throat tightened, which annoyed her. Reid noticing that she’d built the dream had hurt. Reid noticing that she ran it well, on a day when she felt as if every wall had been breached, was worse.

“You sound surprised,” she said.

“I’m not.”

Holly tossed down the towel and reached for the stack of to-go cups to straighten them, though they were already straight. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes one thing,” he said. “You know this place. I need that. I can assess locks, entrances, sight lines, and routines, but you know the people. You know who sits where, and who comes in on what days.”