It didn’t help that her increasingly frequent calls to her sister Simone were going unanswered. Simone was her sounding board, her go-to when things got tough. And these last weeks since losing their father, there wasn’t anything that had been easy. But Simone was dealing with things in her own way, according to her mother, who was growing increasingly worried for her firstborn. Psychologist Simone was determined to find an explanation behind the murders, something that would help them make sense.
But nothing ever would. Tatum had already suspected that before Cruz confirmed it. And if anyone should know about such things, it was a decorated detective.
She flipped the three filet mignons over in the stainless steel pan, spooned luscious, golden herb-kissed butter over the top to ensure that glistening crust. Behind her the line chefs had the plates ready for the table full of carnivores outside. Roasted baby carrots and radishes lay piled on one another and were treated to an extra sprinkling of flaked sea salt before Tatum pivoted and deposited the steaks between the fresh, farmers market vegetables she and Sam had picked up this morning. Her aim was always to present farm to table with as few stops on the way as possible, and the ever-expanding daily market was the perfect place to make that happen. Having Sam accompany her was unexpected, but Ty had called in sick for the second day in a row. The timing of that—coincidental though it might be, hopefully—had her stomach knotting every time she thought about it.
“Order up. Three filet specials.” She pushed the plates across the table for pickup, glanced up when Richard waved to catch her eye. “What’s up?”
“Got a minute?” Richard pointed toward his small office down the hall toward the loading bay.
Tatum glanced at the clock, then wiped her hands. “Sure. Sam? You and Colby have this?”
“On it,” Sam said and moved effortlessly from the pizza oven to the main burners. “Cruz, holler if you get behind.”
Tatum watched Cruz slide the classic margherita pizza from peel into the oven with practiced ease. The way he moved in the kitchen shouldn’t be possible, not with as little time as he’d spent there in the past. But inhabiting other people’s lives was part of his job, wasn’t it?
“Tatum?” Richard called again.
“Yeah.” Tatum grabbed a bottle of water and followed him into his office, a bit guarded at the uncharacteristic glee spinning in her manager’s eyes. “Slow night?”
“Full up,” Richard said. “Susan’s managing fine for right now. I finally heard back from Constance Swan. She’s agreed to review True for her vlog.”
The water halted halfway to Tatum’s mouth. “You’d better not be kidding, because that would be the cruelest joke anyone has ever played on me.”
“Not kidding.” Richard’s chest puffed out more than usual. “I wanted to get everything set before I told you. Next Friday. I could have made it sooner, but I figured you’d want more lead time with the menu.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. Wow.” Tatum’s head spun. Less than a week. Not a lot of time, but she could do it. Constance Swan was to online food communities what Martha Stewart was to home perfection. She’d been the leading voice in the culinary world for almost a decade, and had a worldwide following of millions on every social media platform available. Tatum had been trying to snag a review ever since she’d first opened True. “How’d you do it? What magic wand did you use?”
“You can thank Nancy.”
“Your wife?” Tatum chugged water, feeling exhilarated and anxious to get started on fresh and new menu offerings.
“Turns out they’re in the same Pilates class.” Richard sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms over his chest, the barest hint of ego glowing on his fashion-doll handsome face. “Their last class got canceled, so they went out for coffee. Conversation ensued and Nancy turned on the charm, told her all about you and how amazing this place is.”
Tatum actually squealed and grabbed his shoulders, kissed his cheek. “I am going to send your wife a case of her favorite wine first thing tomorrow.” She needed to write that down. She needed to write a lot of things down. “Do you know what a positive review from her would mean? We wouldn’t just be made here in Chicago, True could become a destination dining experience. Oh.” She fanned her face. “Oh, man, I could even think about opening a second restaurant.” A dream she’d only let herself have after the best of nights. “You are the best! I can’t wait to start planning. Staff meeting first.” She snapped her fingers, pushed him aside and grabbed a notepad off his desk. “Or maybe I’ll tell everyone tomorrow before we open, after we’re done eating. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” She was babbling. She didn’t care. Right now she felt as if she could walk on air. “Let’s make sure we’re booked for that night. I want every table filled. I bet I’m not going to sleep at all this week.”
“It’s all in your hands now,” Richard said as she danced out the door and plowed straight into Cruz.
“Oh!” Cruz locked his hands around her upper arms before she bounced back against the wall. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” She saw the cop light in his eye, brighter, steadier and more critical than she had seen in the man who had been cooking in her kitchen the past few days. “Something happen?”
“Something amazing!” Professionalism out the window, Tatum took his face between her palms and pressed her lips to his. The tingle of attraction that zoomed through her wasn’t dulled by her happiness. “Constance Swan has agreed to review True.”
“Congratulations?”
Tatum rolled her eyes at his confusion. “She’s only the biggest and most influential food critic in the country right now. I so needed some good news. I’m not telling anyone else until tomorrow, so keep it to yourself. Hang on—” she frowned, craned her neck to try to see back into the kitchen “—what are you doing here? Who’s manning the pizza oven?”
“I’m on a break and Chester is covering.” He ran his hands down her arms. “Relax, Tatum.”
“Easy for you to say.” Right now she felt like she had a swarm of bees buzzing inside her. “We’re already a man down tonight.”
He drew her away from Richard’s office, down the hall toward the exit into the storage area and loading bay. “I want you to leave with the rest of the crew tonight. Don’t stick around after-hours.”
“Why?” Just like that, the balloon of expanding excitement inside her popped.
“Because I have something I need to do, and I won’t be here to escort you home.”
She fluttered her lashes and pressed a hand to her chest. “But however will I take care of myself without a big strong man around to protect me?”
“Tatum.”
She’d known him long enough to recognize that warning tone; not that it had any effect. “I don’t need anyone looking after me, Cruz.”
“Tell that to your head.” He brushed gentle fingers against the bruise that was finally showing signs of fading. “If you aren’t going to leave with the others, I’ll just have to make sure one of them sticks around so you aren’t alone.”
“No.” As much work as she had to do, she didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. “I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want any of them knowing about this, remember?”
“Great. So you’ll leave right after we close?”
“Where are you going?” Did he notice she didn’t answer his question? “Is it to do with the case?”
“Everything has to do with the case.”
Did the man have to be so infuriating? Nonanswer answers were not productive. “I need to know what’s going on. If you’re onto something, I need to know.” She swallowed hard. “Even if I don’t want to.”
“All right, then.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to find out why Ty hasn’t been coming in to work.”
“Because he’s sick.” Even as she said it she could hear how naive she sounded. “You don’t thin
k he’s sick at all.” Her stomach rolled. Not Ty. Please, not Ty.
“I don’t believe in coincidences. Someone breaks in and steals my employment file, and soon after, one of your employees stops showing up for work?”
Tatum pinched her lips tight. There had to be another explanation. Ty was her stalwart sentry; she’d been able to rely on him from day one. Never once had she got any inkling of an ulterior motive from him. She couldn’t have been wrong. She wasn’t wrong. Not about him. But darn it if Cruz’s suspicion had doubt creeping in. And a tiny part of her resented Cruz for that.
As if reading her mind, his tone shifted to what she could only describe as total cop. “I still have a job to do, Tatum. But I can’t focus on that if I’m worried about you. I need to know you’re somewhere safe. And right now, if I can’t be with you, that means you need to be at home.”
Even with the obvious frustration in his voice, the sentiment warmed her heart. She moved a step closer, felt that tingle of attraction shoot straight up her spine when he dropped his hands to her waist. “You worry about me?”
“Constantly.” There was that twinkle again. Just a flash, but enough to convince her he was right. Until they knew for certain, until he’d cleared everyone in her employ, she wasn’t safe here alone.
“You know what?” She linked her arms around his neck and inclined her head. “I think I like the idea of you worrying about me.”
“What happened to professionalism in the workplace?” he asked when she lifted a finger to his lips. He kissed her fingertip. She bit her lip and wondered how or even if either of them was going to be able to hold out until the case was closed. There wasn’t much more she wanted right now than to get Cruz Medina into her bed.
“I told you. I’m very happy tonight.” And she wasn’t going to let anything, not even the so-called suspicions he had about True, ruin it. “And when I’m happy I—”
A box came skidding down the hall floor, stopped right at their feet. Tatum spun just as Quallis stepped into sight. “Might want to start putting up warning signs, boss,” the big man said with a naughty glint in his eye. “Never know when someone might walk up on you two.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Cruz squeezed his hand on Tatum’s hip to keep her quiet. “Not a lot of places for privacy around here.”
“Then you aren’t looking hard enough. Loading bay is full of them. Not that I’d know personally,” he added at Tatum’s sudden interest. “As you were.” He moved past them and, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, headed out the loading bay door.
“I thought you quit smoking!” Tatum yelled after him, but Quallis only shrugged and flicked open his lighter. “Going to have to come up with an incentive for him,” Tatum muttered.
“I’ve still got a few minutes left on my break,” Cruz said when she faced him again. “It would probably be best if I didn’t take them with my boss.”
“I suppose not. Rain check?”
He hauled her to him and kissed her quick and hard. “Count on it.”
She slipped away, fingertips to her mouth and smiling to herself.
* * *
It wasn’t until Tatum was out of sight that Cruz realized she hadn’t promised not to stay late at the restaurant. She’d distracted him. Effectively. When was the last time a woman occupied his thoughts and overwhelmed his senses so completely he forgot to do his job?
“Never,” he muttered as he followed Quallis’s path into the loading bay. Being distracted was not going to help him close this case. Or get him through the maze of shelving and storage. “Guess there really is a first time for everything.” His break time could no longer be used to recuperate from the hours he spent on his feet and in front of a hell-fire-degree pizza oven. He had a week to make significant progress on the case or else he’d lose it forever. No way was he going to let Johnny die for nothing. If his partner was leaving this world, the least Cruz could do was to lock up whoever was responsible for killing him. That meant refocusing. Besides, the sooner he solved this case the sooner he and Tatum could work out whatever it was raging through both their systems.
Nice to know the sexual frustration went both ways, sure, but man. He pushed through the slatted plastic curtain into the dim warehouse-type setting. His empty-bedded nights were becoming excruciating.
Why True? What did someone see here that made this place useful to them?
Stacks of boxes and aisles of the same metal racks that filled the walk-in refrigerator stood in a type of labyrinth, leading this way and that. The lack of temperature control meant the air was chilly and would no doubt be roasting in the summer humidity. Keeping one eye on Quallis, who he could see was standing by the open landing bay door, Cruz set his phone timer, clicked on the flashlight app and took a look around.
Multiple skylights provided light during the day, and as far as he could tell, sporadic fluorescent bars illuminated the space when needed. The overstock of towels, aprons, tablecloths, napkins, plates and all the table fixings were neatly arranged. A clipboard hung off the side of each rack, a continuing inventory for catering and supplies for the restaurant. The number of glasses alone had him gaining even more appreciation for Bernadette and Pike, who made them all sparkle and shine.
Most everything else seemed to be transportation items, like insulated food carriers, multiple sizes of wheeled ice chests. Everything around the catering van was neatly arranged. He moved around the truck, smoothed a hand over the gold-and-black lettering of the True logo.
“You looking for something in particular?” Quallis’s voice carried in along with the cold night air. “Or are you naturally nosy?”
Cruz shook his head. “Just getting a feel for the place. You know.” He shrugged off his having been caught and continued his inspection in clear sight this time. “I like to know everything about a place I work in.”
Quallis crushed out a cigarette under his foot, checked his watch, then lit another. “The other night we had a bit of a joke about you and Tatum.”
“So I recall.” Cruz trailed his fingers along the hood of the van. Ice-cold. Hadn’t been driven in a while, or today at least.
“I didn’t think it much of a joke, to be honest.” Quallis waited until Cruz faced him. “Tatum’s had a rough few months. You know about her father and uncle?”
Cruz nodded. “I do. We’ve talked about it.”
Quallis’s bushy eyebrows went up. “I guess that’s good news, then. Now’s not a good time to be messing with her, is all. I’d appreciate it if you kept that in mind going forward.”
“I don’t plan on hurting her.” It was true. Didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. “Is someone going to warn me off every night like a ritual or something? You all taking turns?”
Quallis shook his head. “Sam had his say. Colby and the others, they think it’s built-in job entertainment. Me?” His eyes narrowed. “There’s something I can’t quite figure out about you. I’ll work it out at some point, though. I always do.”
“Translation, you’ll be watching me.”
“You catch on quick.” He tossed his cigarette down, crushed it out and slapped that now familiar hand on Cruz’s back. “Good not to have to spell things out. See you back in there.” He headed back inside, leaving Cruz out in the alley, the faint and familiar sounds of night traffic and meandering crowds echoing against his ears. There was something oddly comforting in being warned by Quallis. Comforting and affirming.
If the big guy was part of the drug running, Cruz doubted he’d have been so light-handed in his advice. More likely he’d have used his girth and strength to try to intimidate Cruz out of a job. Instead he’d come across as a big brother, something Cruz appreciated and, in a strange way, welcomed.
Alone now, Cruz finished his search of the warehouse-like area, finding nothing that raised his suspicion. If he hadn’t witnessed the break-in the other night, he’d be serious
ly reevaluating his suspicions about True. He needed to find something, and fast.
Otherwise the case was going to be closed. And Johnny would have given his life for nothing.
* * *
Tatum rarely appreciated being told what to do. Especially in that assumptive, borderline-condescending tone Cruz tended to use. Was she special? Did he use that particular intonation just for her? Part of her hoped so. The other part wanted to stuff those words down his throat and make him swallow them.
She’d do as he suggested and leave with the rest of the employees, but beyond that...
“Early night tonight?” Colby swung her bag over her shoulder as she joined Tatum in the bar. The place had been cleaned and ready for tomorrow’s shift; the bar was sparkling against the dim glow of the after-hours lights. The ever so faint echoes of conversation and banter made their way through the depths of the almost empty restaurant.
“Shaking things up,” Tatum confirmed and earned a smile from Colby. “You doing okay?” The revelation that one or more of her employees might be using her business as a front for crime had Tatum realizing she hadn’t taken as much personal interest in their lives as she probably should have. She considered them all her friends, but were they? Friendship worked both ways, didn’t it?
“Yeah, I’m good.” Colby’s raised brows confirmed Tatum’s suspicion. “You want to join us for drinks over at O’Shannahan’s?”
“I’d love to,” Tatum started. “But I’ve got plans for tonight. But I will soon. And I’ll buy the first round.” Right now she couldn’t wait to get started on planning the perfect meal to offer Constance Swan.
“Wicked good.” Colby nodded in approval. “So you and Cruz have plans tonight?”
“Remains to be seen.” Tatum was really getting tired of Cruz being right, but letting those at True believe she and Cruz were involved really did make sense. That said, he was also right that Tatum was a terrible liar. “If not, I’ll just have a quiet early night. Work on some new recipes. Maybe drink some wine.” A lot of wine.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021 Page 14