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When night fell, he followed her carriage to Rory's school, where she collected the girl before heading back home to the house she shared with her sister. Completely unaware of the protector who followed and watched over her.
His days and nights fell into a pattern, following Tacey to work and home again, watching over her at night before heading to the café with her before dawn. It was a comfortable existence, being Tacey's protector, for there was very little actual protecting to do. All he did was stand watch, and wait.
Until one morning...he learned why he'd been summoned.
TWELVE
Tacey wasn't sure what was wrong with her this week. She jumped at the smallest sound, and she could have sworn she felt someone was watching her at least a dozen times a day, but when she looked around, she couldn't see anyone paying her particular attention. Still, she didn't let it dim the pride she took in her work, whether it was cooking, brewing, serving or doing the books, which she'd put off until Saturday morning, but she knew she couldn't wait any longer.
Besides, she needed to know where she stood financially. The pandemic had closed her café for weeks, and even with government assistance, they'd barely managed to keep afloat until they'd been allowed to reopen again. It hadn't helped that it was still hard to get the most basic supplies. What had possessed people stuck at home to want to bake their own bread? The shortage of flour and yeast didn't concern them now they were all back at work and school, but every bakery and café was fighting to get enough, and the suppliers were hiking the prices, for no other reason than to increase their own profit margin at the expense of already battling business owners.
Ooh, if she'd been in charge of emergency measures instead of that dipshit of a prime minister...
Tacey shook her head. She ran a café, not a country, and even that was a struggle some days. Especially today, when she had to work and take care of Rory. Luckily, Rory was happily ensconced upstairs with some art supplies, a selection of muffins and a hot chocolate, so she'd have time to finish the month's financials before Rory needed anything else.
She added everything up, and then checked it all over again, just to be sure. Only then did she sit back and allow herself to smile.
Finally, the café was back on track. They'd reopened only a few weeks ago, with low expectations and no idea how well they'd go, but if these numbers were correct – and they should be, she'd checked them twice – this last week had actually been more profitable than the weeks before the pandemic started. If she could keep this up, or maybe even grow the business, she'd have a house deposit by year's end. Maybe even one big enough to afford a place with a backyard that wasn't snake infested bush like Bell House, where Rory could actually have a lawn and play outside. Or, better yet, a park nearby with lawn that the council took care of, so Rory could still have the lawn and Tacey wouldn't have to mow it.
She could dream, couldn't she?
But she'd need more than one profitable month to make it happen. This month and next month and the one after that, all the way into next year, or whenever she actually applied for a mortgage. Then she still had to keep the café going so she could afford the mortgage repayments...
Which meant good business planning, based on this month's data, for next month.
Rostering, ordering, forecasting, menu planning...
Tacey wasn't sure if it was hours or merely minutes later when she heard someone ringing the bell on the counter for service. Which was weird, because Rochelle was out there this morning, and Rochelle was one of her best staff. Better than Octavia, even, because Rochelle was a master at latte art, and if there was one thing Tacey's customers liked better than a well-brewed coffee, it was a pretty, well-brewed coffee. If she could only persuade Ben to put some of his artwork on the milk froth as well as on paper...
Rochelle appeared in the office doorway, looking distinctly pissed off, an expression Tacey couldn't ever remember seeing on her face before. "I'm sorry to interrupt you while you're doing month end, but there's a customer at the counter who insists on talking to the manager."
Tacey rose, pasting her take-no-shit smile on her face. "Is her name Karen?" Because Tacey was ready to refund the bitch's entire order and shove her out the door, never to return.
Rochelle swallowed, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "No, I don't think so. I wish Ben was here."
Now alarm bells were ringing in Tacey's head, louder than the actual bell on the counter.
"You stay here, and I'll go see to this customer. When I have their attention, you sneak out and head for the police station. Tell them...tell them anyone who's working in the police station this morning can have a free coffee and a muffin if they come down to the café before noon." Just in case. Not that they'd ever had a customer so abusive they'd needed to call the police, and Tacey was ninety percent certain she'd send this one on their way without a problem, but still...
Rochelle bobbed her head frantically.
Tacey blew out a threat and marched out to deal with whatever trouble had come to her café.
THIRTEEN
The moment Tacey stepped into the café, she knew this was no Karen. Unless Karens were now built like brick shithouses and stole their suits from the Rock. She edged behind the counter, wanting something solid between her and whoever this dick was before she spoke to him.
"I'm the manager here. How can I help you, sir?" she said as she raised her eyes to his face.
And froze.
"You're going to hand over my daughter, bitch, because she belongs to me," Matt hissed, with a malevolent stare the like of which she'd never seen on his usually charming face.
Prison had changed him. Not just the muscles, but inside his head, too.
"You want...what?" Tacey could barely get the words out.
"My daughter. You stole her from me, along with five years of my life, and I want them back."
