Mr. Wicked
Page 18
“Which way did you come from?” I asked, crouching down in front of her. I winced at the throbbing pain in my knee. The aching registered as I warmed up inside the bank. She turned and pointed back down the street toward the diner. Okay, that helped some. I’d have to take her with me and hope we ran into her mom or dad on the way there.
“Were your parents in the bank?” I asked, glancing back through the glass. She shook her head furiously.
“My name is Melanie, but my friends call me Mel. What’s your name?” I held out my hand for her to shake it. She slid her warm little hand into mine.
“Esme. My name is Esme.” Her squeaky little voice made me smile. She was a cute kid.
“Okay, Esme. Let’s go. We’ll go to the diner where I work and keep you warm while we figure out where your parents are. Maybe we’ll pass them on the way.”
“My daddy,” she squeaked out.
“Your daddy?” I said, holding onto her hand. She nodded. “Great, we’ll find your daddy and get you back home safe and sound. How does that sound?” I paused in front of the door and prepared myself for another cold blast. She gripped my hand tighter, and I squeezed right back.
“Don’t worry, it’s only a couple of blocks and we’ll be there before you know it. Do you like hot chocolate?” I asked. Her eyes lit up, sparkling under the glare of the vestibule light. She could have my food from this shift. I was sure she was scared out of her mind. “Let’s go, kiddo,” I said, whipping the door open. The frigid air hit us, but the rain had let up, so it was only drizzling. She gripped my hand tightly as we hustled back to the diner. I’d have to go without the pantyhose. If Martin wanted to throw a fit, he could go buy me another pair.
I kept my eye out for anyone frantic as we walked back the couple of blocks to the diner. We pushed through the door and it was business as usual inside. Jeanine covered my tables, and Martin must have been hanging in his office. If he knew what happened, he would have been standing at the register, holding up the check my customer skipped out on, and demanding I pay it right then. I’d be able to scrape by with enough tips to cover it by the end of my shift. Jeanine’s eyebrow quirked up seeing Esme’s hand in mine. I shrugged my shoulders and got Esme situated on one of the stools at the counter.
“Why don’t you hop up here?” I said, lifting her up. She clambered up onto the seat and spun around, looking very out of place in the rundown diner. Someone was probably having a fit over her going missing. I knew all about that. My stomach dropped as I thought about how horrible a feeling that was. “How about some hot chocolate?” I asked her. She nodded, and I called out to Jim for a mug of the warm, chocolatey treat. It was probably the only thing in the whole place that wasn’t horrible. He gave me a sweaty nod and went to work.
“I’ll be right back. Okay?” I said. Her hand shot out and gripped mine tightly, squeezing my fingers together. She had quite a grip. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to go right over there to my friend. See her?” I said, pointing at Jeanine, who shot back and forth from table to table. “I’m going to go help her out. She’s doing me a favor by waiting on those tables for me, and I don’t want to upset her.”
“Okay,” she squeaked out, so low it was barely a whisper.
“Thanks, Esme.” I rushed over to Jeanine. She shot me a glare and I cringed.
“Did a little sightseeing? And picked up a stray?” she said, bustling past me into the kitchen. Looks like my share of the tips would be a lot smaller tonight. But I owed her. Jim slid a cup of hot chocolate to Esme across the counter. She lifted it up and took a small sip. A big smile spread across her face as she tried to lick off the whipped cream she’d gotten all over her chin. Clearly a bit happier, she kicked her feet and spun slowly on the stool.
I rushed back and forth from table to table, bringing out the orders that were placed while I was out, and cleaning up as customers left. Every so often I’d shoot a glance to Esme and another out the window, looking for anyone freaking out about a missing child. Droves of people passed by, and a few people came in for a meal. Other than that, it was like any other day.
Esme seemed perfectly content to hang out on the stool, spinning around some and drawing a picture or two on the placemats with some crayons I’d scrounged up from the back. No one spoke to her and she didn’t speak to anyone else. I couldn’t help but wonder where she came from, or how long I should wait to call the cops. Plus, I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. A sharp pang stomach, and I wrapped my arms around myself.
Sometimes, kids make mistakes. They get angry and run away, never thinking about the consequences of what they’ve done. Not considering how it could change the course of their entire life in a moment. I knew how the mistakes of children could be held against them – even ruin their life. I didn’t want anything like that to happen to Esme.
I popped of the kitchen with an armload of plates, all ready for my biggest table of the night, when I saw a hulking man in a dark suit standing in front of Esme, trying to talk to her. He had a short buzz cut and wore sunglasses, despite the rainy weather. Esme scrunched herself up against the counter, not looking happy to see him. Who the hell was this guy? Everything happened so quickly. One second he tried to grab her, and in the next I dumped my plates down on the nearest table and threw myself between them.
I planted myself in front of her and pushed him back with both hands as hard as I could.
“Hey, don’t you fucking touch her,” I hissed, getting right in his face. He didn’t even flinch as his shaded gaze snapped to me. “Do you hear me? Back off,” I said, pushing him back again. He didn’t shift an inch as my hands met his solid chest. My pulse began to pound. Who was this guy? Why was he talking to Esme? Was she in danger? More and more questions flew through my head as I glared up at the unflinching man with the earpiece. Esme slid her hand into mine. I turned to give her a reassuring smile when the front door was flung open with an alarming bang that made me jump and put my arm protectively around Esme. What the hell was going on? I tried to peer around the asshole towering over me.
“There you are,” came a voice smoother than silk, even though I could hear a note of the frantic anxiety that only losing a kid will create in a parent. A brute of a man rushed in, flanked by another huge guy in a black suit. This one had dark brown hair that was longer on top. I named him Hulk #2. Esme leaned to the side to get a better view, and a tall man with chestnut hair rushed forward. His expensive cologne wafted by, scenting the air with something other than pancakes, burgers, and coffee. He smelled better than any man I’d ever encountered. Hulk #1 escorted Hulk #2 out of the diner, and by that I mean he practically threw him out the front door.
Before I even knew what was happening, Mr. Cologne had his arms wrapped around Esme, and she hugged him back.
“Are you okay?” the man asked, crouching down and squeezing her in a hug. “Don’t do that to me, sweetie.”
As he turned with her in his arms, everything suddenly made more sense. I was face to face with Rhys Thayer, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. Also one of the most generous, from what I’ve read, but he wasn’t feeling generous right then.
Kissing the top of Esme’s head, he kept his gaze on me and I was definitely aware of the scrutiny. My fingers tingled and I wanted to take a step back, but I was frozen. He pinned me with his stare, eyes burning into mine. What happened to the good-natured philanthropist I’d seen so many news features about? His eyes were laser-focused on me and I finally took a step back. For a second, the intimidating mask slipped when he glanced at Esme wrapped up in his arms. Searing my skin, he gave me the once over, glaring at me like he could destroy me at any moment. Maybe he could.
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