by Jo Davis
“You must be Gray?”
“Yes, ma’am. I spoke to you on the phone about your ad.”
Ad? The woman led them inside, and Anna glanced around, waiting for an explanation. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Come back this way,” the woman said. “I’m afraid there’s only one left, but he’s a cutie. Had his first shots and worming, and he’s litter-trained already.”
“We’ll have a look,” Gray replied.
What on earth? He couldn’t be up to what she was thinking . . .
In the small kitchen, the woman bent over a cardboard box, reached inside, and came up with a tiny fuzz ball of a kitten. “This is him. Six weeks old and ready for someone to love him. Want to hold him?” she asked Anna.
Instinctively, she reached for the kitten, gathered his delicate body in her hands. He peered up at her with big green eyes and let out a squeak—and she fell instantly in love. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “What a precious baby.”
He was, too. His fur was charcoal gray from nose to tail, with not a speck of other color in between. A fluffy little face gazed at her in what could only be described as mutual adoration, and she knew she was sunk.
“Gray, I can’t take care of a kitten.” The statement didn’t carry much conviction.
“Tell that to him,” he said, pointing to the cat. From his smirk, he was obviously pleased with himself.
“I don’t know the first thing about pets.”
“It’s not that hard. Food, water, a clean bed, and love.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”
“I’m gone for hours sometimes.”
“So you won’t work as many late hours, knowing you’ve got someone waiting for your attention.”
She shot him a look that was supposed to be a glare, but didn’t quite make it. “I’m thinking there was an ulterior motive in there.”
“So? It’s working, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was. Now that she was holding her very own kitten against her chest, there was no way she was leaving without him. She could swear they’d already imprinted on each other.
“What do you think? Do you want him?” the woman prodded.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “I’ll take him. How much?”
“Just the cost of the shots, plus kitten food you can take with you. Babies are cute, but I’m not letting my cat have any more of them. Got her fixed.” She named a reasonable figure, and in less than ten minutes Gray had paid the lady and they were on the street with one wide-eyed kitten and a few pet supplies.
“Now what?” she asked, cradling her newest family member.
“We need a litter box. Let’s pick one up on the way home. That way you’ll be set.”
As a cab moved up the street toward them, she looked into Gray’s handsome face. “Thank you. He’s beautiful.”
Leaning in, she thanked him more thoroughly with a lingering kiss that ended when the cab came to a stop and the kitten began to squirm between them. Laughing, they got into the car and were on their way.
“What will you name him?”
She studied his coloring. “Sterling, I think.”
“It fits. Great name.” Putting an arm around her, he kissed her.
It wasn’t until later that night, snuggled on the sofa against Gray, with Sterling in a little ball on her lap, that the enormity of this day—this moment—really hit.
She was in so much trouble here. With this man, she could have a life. Complete with pets, laughter, love. The whole nine yards.
And as scary as it seemed, it was fantastic, too.
She never wanted this to end.
***
“You want me to meet your mother?”
Gray stared at Anna and tried to swallow the sudden surge of panic that threatened to explode in his chest. “I’ve never done the parent thing before.”
Disappointment shadowed her happiness, and she worried her bottom lip. “Too much, too soon?”
“No, I was just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled at her to cover his discomfort. “This thing between us is still new, and I didn’t want to push you too hard.”
“Liar,” she stated, incredulous. “You’ve done nothing but push since you first laid eyes on me. But I know meeting Mom is different, so never mind.”
“No, wait. I didn’t say I didn’t want to meet her,” he said, laying a hand over hers. “The answer is yes—we’re on. I’d love to have dinner with you and your mom when you treat her here at the restaurant.”
Her smile blinded him—and infused him with horrible guilt. The past few days had been the best of his life, spending every minute he could with his lover, falling more and more for her each second. He wanted something real with Anna, but not like this. Not surrounded by lies and subterfuge, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. But he didn’t see a way out of his mess until the investigation was over.
“Beware,” she warned him. “My mother is sort of overwhelming.”
“I’ll consider myself forewarned.” He stood, needing to get out of her office, put a bit of distance between himself and the source of both his guilt and joy. “I have to close tonight, so I don’t know if you’ll want to wait for me. If you don’t, call a cab or I’ll worry about your walking home alone with that mugger still on the loose.”
Gray, you’re a manipulative bastard.
She gave a shiver. “I’ll wait for you, if that’s all right.”
“I’m glad.” He paused at the door. “See you in a while.”
“Okay.”
His shift went slowly, the clock moving as if mired in molasses. He hated this fucking fake job and couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to work for a screaming prima donna like Ethan. Every day he felt like he was trapped in one of those hellacious reality shows, like that one where the chef shrieked at his underlings constantly and turned so red, Gray was surprised he hadn’t had a stroke by now.
In Gray’s real job, if a madman screamed in his face while Gray was wielding a paring knife, said nutcase would get the knife planted between his ribs.
That grim thought made him smile. Unfortunately, it also earned Ethan’s eagle eye.
“What’s so fucking funny? Do you find celery to be humorous?”
Everyone in the kitchen gave the chef, and Gray, a wide berth and a wary eye as they continued to scurry about their tasks like mice.
Do not stick the blade in his neck and thrust. You won’t look good in prison orange. His grip tightened on the handle. “No, Chef.”
“Then why are you standing there smiling instead of chopping, dickweed?” he bellowed. “Are you thinking about what else you can fuck up? New and creative ways to piss me off? Maybe you’d like to throw something else all over the floor so I can fire your stupid ass?”
Yes, actually, I would. Please, as God is my witness, fire me, asshole. “No, Chef.” He paused. “I was just thinking how you remind me of that guy on cable. The chef who yells a lot but is brilliant. You know, the best at what he does. You’re awesome, like him, and you should have your own show.”
Ethan blinked at him, not having a clue what to do with the compliment. Probably he’d never received one in his life. A couple of quiet snickers came from somewhere in the kitchen, and the chef whipped his head around, futilely searching for the sources. Unable to spot the offenders, he turned his scowl back to Gray. A lot of his steam had vanished, however.
“Yeah? Well, just do your job, shithead. And wipe the smile off your face.”
“Yes, sir.” Shove it up your airtight asshole, sir.
An hour before closing, things had died down considerably. Ethan went home, thank God, leaving cleanup and prep for the next day to the lowlifes. Peace and quiet reigned, and Gray took care of his station dutifully, cursing every dreaded minute. At least when he found a special woman to marry him, he’d be damned good at assisting in the kitchen. See, there’s a bright side.
He was so caught up in his musings that he didn’t notice that two of the kitchen staff he’d ha
d under watch had left the area several minutes ago, as had become their habit. Their stations weren’t clean, which meant they’d probably be back and were still around here somewhere. He had to find them and see what they were up to now.
Slipping his hand into his dress whites, he reassured himself that his mini camera was still in place and ready for action. Quickly, he sent a text message to Simon that he was going to look for them.
He was almost out of the kitchen when another worker called out, “You leave without putting your shit in order and Ethan’s going to shove you in the oven like the witch in Hansel and Gretel and bake you, man.” A laugh followed that prediction.
Gray gave the kid an icy glare. “I’m heading to the john. I’ll be back.”
Christ, he hoped the guy didn’t say anything to the two missing subjects if they returned before Gray did. That’s all he needed, to end up floating in New York Harbor.
Keeping an eye out for Anna and other staff members, he eased down the hallway that led to the dining room. A quick look around revealed only Brandon, changing the tablecloths and doing setups for the next day. The kid didn’t see him, so he turned and went back down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Quickly, he checked the men’s room, which was empty, as was the large walk-in freezer. Then the stairwell, listening carefully for voices. Nothing. Once he’d searched every inch of the floor, he stopped to think.
Unless Hernandez and Keene had left the building entirely, the most logical place to go was down. Floor Fifty-Five occupied the entire top floor of the building. The other floors were various offices for businesses. None of those floors were vacant and would be a good place for two criminals to meet.
That left one area—the basement. He didn’t really expect to find anything there, either, but in the interest of being thorough, he’d check it out.
Pausing, Gray considered his options. He had three, the first two of them less than palpable. One, he could take the noisy service elevator. If there were suspects down there, his actions would alert everyone that he was coming. Like that wouldn’t earn him a bullet to the head in two seconds flat.
Second, he could walk down all fifty-five flights of steps, sneak up, and get his pictures. If he didn’t expire of heart failure first. Not going to happen.
That left his third and best option. Satisfied with a course of action, he took the regular elevator to the lobby, then descended the stairs the rest of the way to the basement. Then he removed the small camera from his pocket and listened.
At first he didn’t hear a thing except for the strange pops and creaks of water in pipes, the air-conditioning units, and other noises echoing in the big basement. Those sounds served to hide his footsteps as he moved deeper into the bowels of the building.
He was glad for the backup pistol strapped to his ankle, the one he couldn’t wear when he was with Anna outside work, for obvious reasons. But he wouldn’t blow his cover by drawing it unless he had no other option.
Then, beyond the regular noises, the faint sound of murmuring voices reached him. Keeping cover behind some crates, he moved as close as he dared, making sure he could get shots of Hernandez and Keene speaking with a man Gray recognized all too well.
Manuel “Manny” Delacruz. Brother to Gray’s most elusive nemesis, casino and hotel mogul Joaquin Delacruz. The Delacruz brothers had been under suspicion for years of various criminal activities—drug running, prostitution, and gambling infractions, for starters. Joaquin in particular was ruthless, letting nothing and nobody stand in the way of what he desired. The bastard had mocked Gray at every turn.
“When is the wedding?” Manny asked.
Wedding? Frowning, Gray snapped some photos of the meeting.
“Sunday afternoon,” Keene answered. “We’ll have both catering vans ready to go at ten.”
Hernandez chuckled. “One for the real event, one for the buyer.”
“Good,” Manny said, pleased, and jerked a thumb at some heavy wooden crates behind him. “Get those empanadas ready to roll, right?” They all shared a laugh at his lame attempt at humor.
The realization hit Gray like a bolt of lightning—they were using the restaurant’s new catering service to transport the blow and disguising it as pastries. Why the hell didn’t he catch on sooner? It made perfect sense. He only wished he had a recorder with him, but the pics and his testimony would have to do. Now he could alert Simon, and his partner could set up the sting.
Their next exchange sharpened his focus again.
“What about Joaquin?” Hernandez asked, and their humor died.
“What about him?” Manny’s voice was cool.
“He still doesn’t know about this, does he?”
“No, and he won’t,” Manny snapped. “Not unless you want your tongue removed from your head. My big brother’s misguided attempts to go legit are going to get us killed, and I’m not going to allow that. Got it?”
“Sure, Manny,” Keene stammered.
Their leader pinned the other man with his onyx gaze. “And keep your boss lady and her chef in the dark if you want to continue breathing. They’re both too sharp for their own good.”
“No way will we say a word.”
With that statement, Gray was sure Anna was innocent, as was Ethan. Manny’s statement wasn’t definitive proof, but it went a long way toward easing his mind in regard to the beautiful restaurateur. He also figured Keene had just signed his and Hernandez’s death warrants by acting like a stuttering fool—unless they wound up getting busted first.
Gray was about to turn when his shoe connected with something small and round, perhaps a screw. The tinkling of metal skittering across the concrete floor, echoing through the basement, caused his heart to lurch into his throat. All three of the men froze, then scattered to begin searching the area. When none of them headed in his direction, he hurried back to the stairwell as fast as he could without making more noise.
Inside, he removed his shoes, cradled them to prevent the clattering sound, and took off up the stairs in his socked feet. In the lobby, he put his shoes on again and took the elevator back to the restaurant, then pushed into the restroom. Since that’s where he’d said he was going, he wanted to be seen leaving from there, if he was spotted at all.
A glance at his watch showed he was pushing his time. Anna would be waiting for him, and he still hadn’t finished cleaning his station. Heaving a deep sigh, he pushed open the restroom door to leave again—and came face-to-face with Keene. Who, he noted, was not sweating and had obviously taken the elevator back up also. Thank God their search of the basement had delayed them in getting back up here.
“Hey, man. Miss Claire said she’s been looking for you,” Keene said, eyeballing him suspiciously. “Where’ve you been?”
“In here.” Smiling sheepishly, which he didn’t have to fake, he waved in the direction of the toilets. “I’m kind of sick, so don’t get too close.” His flushed face would give credence to the lie.
The other man grimaced in disgust and took a step back. “Oh. Well, see ya.”
“Yeah.” See ya in prison, fucktard.
As he watched Keene walk away, the narrowness of his escape settled into his bones. He’d fucked up and alerted them that there was a possible witness. With any luck they would be satisfied at finding no one and wouldn’t alter their plans to move the coke on Sunday.
Moving fast, he plugged a port from the camera into his iPhone. Then he sent Simon the pictures he’d taken, along with another message.
Pay dirt. Manny D heading this one. J doesn’t know.
Simon: No shit?! Can’t believe that.
Me 2. M said J’s going legit. WTF? Blow being moved from basement of building on Sunday. Disguised as catering.
Simon: Shoulda fucking thought it.
Yeah. Call you later with deets.
No sooner had Gray returned the camera, cord, and phone to his pocket than he heard a sweet voice call out, “There you are.”
Anna
was coming toward him, obviously ready to go. Her purse was slung over one shoulder, and she appeared concerned. “Where have you been?”
“Men’s room. Sorry I disappeared.”
“Oh. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Ready?”
“When you are.”
He hadn’t finished his station, but screw it. He had tomorrow off, so Ethan could fire him for all he cared. By Sunday, with any luck, Gray wouldn’t be darkening the door of the kitchen ever again.
Gray felt stupid walking home in his whites, but he hadn’t brought clothes to change this time. When they arrived back at their apartments, he turned to Anna. “Come to my place for a bit? I want to get out of the monkey suit.”
A hungry light entered her gorgeous brown eyes. “Not as much as I want you out of it.”
They wasted no time shedding their clothes. Right there in his foyer he pressed her back to the closed door and attacked her mouth. Groaning in pleasure, she gave back as good as she got. Aggressive. Exciting. No other woman did it for him like she did.
“God, you turn me on.”
“Fuck me, Gray. Make me forget my own name.”
He couldn’t speak for her, but he certainly forgot his. Especially when he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. When he sank his cock deep and buried himself to the hilt.
He fucked her against the door, every stroke like sinking into heaven. Too soon, his balls drew up tight and the familiar tingling began at the base of his spine. He was helpless to resist the explosion of his release as he continued to thrust through it. And only when the warmth oozed along his cock did he realize his mistake.
He hadn’t worn a condom.
“Jesus Christ,” he croaked. “Anna.”
“Mmm?” She kissed his neck.
“I didn’t use protection. I’m so sorry.” Shame engulfed him as she froze, drew back, and stared into his eyes.
“I—I didn’t think of it, either.” She swallowed hard. “You’re clean, right?”
“Yes! I’m totally healthy. You?”
“Yes. I have papers to prove it.”
“Me too. But I trust you.” That was true, he realized. In every respect.