Devereaux Billionaires Complete Series: Books 1-4

by Mallory Crowe

  Jean glanced over her shoulder to where the three men were laughing about something with open mouthfuls of food. “Just a few regulars. You know ’em?” she asked, probing for what he was doing in town.

  “Nope.” He didn’t give her any personal information at all. “Just wondering if there was any reason for them to treat you like shit.”

  Oh Lord, it was a white knight. The last thing she needed. “Don’t worry about them. Did you know what you wanted?”

  “Meat lovers skillet.” He brought the water to his lips, no straw.

  She watched his throat work as he swallowed the water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the chords in his throat moved. She’d bet he’d be better defined beneath that black t-shirt than any of the lifelong plant workers in this down.

  Damn it. Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? “I’ll get that skillet right out for you.” She retreated back to the kitchen before she could do or say anything to embarrass herself. She didn’t think he’d noticed her staring, but who knew? She already had to be careful. Probably ninety percent of the guys who wandered into Striker’s at odd hours of the night were decent, hardworking guys just looking for a quick meal or caffeine hit before going back to work or hitting the road. But the ten percent like Dickie were a pain in the ass.

  If she smiled too much or laughed at their jokes too loud, it was somehow an invitation to touch her and flirt full-on. When she’d first gotten her job at Striker’s two years ago, she’d tried to go along with it, hoping the tips would make up for the skeevey feeling, but apparently the perverts were cheap. Figured.

  So now she had to play it extra safe with the new guys to make sure she didn’t accidently give them the green light to make a move.

  “Hey, Richie, can I get a meat lovers?”

  The line cook, an army vet in his fifties with more of his skin covered in tattoos than empty and a burly beard that had somehow never gotten into the food, gave her a nod. “Will do. Is Dickie giving you a hard time?”

  “Dickie’s a dick,” she said softly enough that none of the guests would overhear. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Well, you let me know if I need to go out there.”

  More white knights. Great. “Really, he’s just annoying. You’re the first one on my list to call if it gets out of hand. Promise.” Richie was nice and all, but she’d never ask him to start anything on her behalf. The owner, Striker himself, had made himself very clear that customers came first when she’d first complained about handsy clientele. Waitresses came and went, but the people who manned these routes were his honored guests. His honored guests he served watered-down beer and shitty coffee to, but he didn’t care about them as much when it came to what was coming out of his bottom line.

  And if Richie caused trouble, they’d both be out on their ass and neither of them would be much use to each other.

  “One meat lovers coming up.” He grabbed ingredients, mixing everything together on the same stovetop where the bacon and sausage were cooked up, ensuring that everything would have a great flavor. There were plenty of things to complain about working here, but the quality of the food was not one of them.

  She moved back to the dining area and scanned over her three tables. Dickie and his crew seemed to be doing okay. The trucker was pushing away his plates, so she took them for him while discreetly setting his bill on the table, and Stranger should be fine until his food was ready.

  But before that could happen, Dickie snapped his fingers at her again. Jean rolled her eyes and started to turn around when she saw that Stranger was staring at her again. It made it so much worse when Dickie was like this in front of other customers. Especially ones who set her on edge like Stranger did.

  She’d have to deal with his opinion of her later. For now she had to answer the call of the snapping. Glancing down at the plates not nearly clear of food, she took a hopeful guess at what they wanted. “Should I grab a few to-go boxes for y’all?”

  “Actually, I was hoping for another beer, hun.”

  Crap. He was empty already. She wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed at herself for missing that he needed a refill or at him for drinking so damn fast when she knew he’d probably be driving himself home. People just didn’t watch out for drunk drivers at nine in the morning.

  But he’d only had two so far. Maybe if the next one was his last, it wouldn’t be too bad... “Coming right up.” She reached for the glass.

  Except he didn’t hand it to her. Once again, she had to lean across the table in front of Dickie, but this time he didn’t just stare. His hand came out and copped a feel of her ass, squeezing her hard as she yelped in surprise and jumped back.

  “What the hell, Dickie?”

  He gave her a mock innocent expression as his little buddies all snickered. “Well, it was right there in front of me. I’m only human.”

  “You’re a human piece of—” Jean snapped her mouth shut before she said something that would get her fired. Worse, the angrier she got, the more Dickie enjoyed himself. But that didn’t mean she was going to do nothing. “If you do that again, Striker is going to hear about it.” Striker wouldn’t do a damn thing, but it was a worthwhile threat.

  He held up his hands. “Fine, fine. But I do need another beer.”

  Jean tightened her lips as she waited to see whether he was really done or just gearing up for round two. But if Striker found out she’d refused to get a paying customer more beer, there’d be hell to pay. Namely, she’d be out on the job market again. It had taken her forever to even get this waitressing gig, so she wasn’t ready to be out on the unemployment market, no matter how shitty it was right now.

  Ten minutes. She could do this for ten minutes more. And then she’d do it for another ten. And she’d keep on with it until her shift was over and she could relax at home.

  Jean held out her hand. “Give me your glass,” she said sharply, not wanting to play any more of his stupid games.

  “I don’t know what has you in such a shitty mood. I was just joking around.” Dickie started to hand her his empty glass.

  “I guess I don’t get the joke,” she bit out as she reached for the glass. At the last second, he dropped it and out of instinct, she jerked forward to grab it before it fell on all the food. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dickie rear to go for another feel but his hand never made contact. Jean started to back away as quick as possible, glass in hand, and Stranger was already there. He stood between her and Dickie, holding Dickie’s wrist at an awkward angle as he stared down dispassionately at the man.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said in a calm voice. As though everyone should listen to the orders he gave.

  Of course, Dickie wasn’t easy to order around. “Who the hell do you think you—”

  Stranger bent Dickie’s hand at an unnatural angle. The sickening sounds of cracking filled the diner. Dickie’s face immediately went ashen as Jean stumbled back, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “I’m the man who thinks you should leave.”

  The blood rushed from Jean’s face. Even though it wasn’t directed at her, the words were so calm and he seemed so...sure of himself. As though he knew he could follow through on any threats he made.

  Dickie’s two friends both started to stand and visions of the fight that would happen on her watch raced through her mind. No way. She reached forward and grabbed the stranger’s arm as she tried to pull him back to his table.

  The second she touched him, she became aware of two things. One was that his arm was rock hard. Two, there was no way she could move him anywhere if he didn’t want to go.

  But she tugged him and he allowed her to move him until they were in the back corner of the restaurant. “You need to leave.” She looked over Stranger’s shoulder to where Dickie’s friends stood around him, taking stock of his broken hand. Belatedly, she realized she was still touching the man and she jerked her hand away.

  Stranger shrugged, obviously not wo
rried about the three-to-one odds. “He needed to learn some manners.”

  “It’s not your job to teach him anything.”

  “You obviously weren’t going to tell him to keep his damn hands to himself. Only fair I give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  “Well, if word of your medicine reaches my boss, I’ll be out of a job. So you need to get the hell out of here before Dickie and his buddies get their nerve up.”

  “If you’re worried about a job, I can take care of that.”

  Jean’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s why I’m here. I have an opportunity for you that could set you up for life.”

  Dickie stood and walked over. Somehow Stranger knew. “Let’s go somewhere more private to talk about it.” He reached for her and Jean jumped away.

  “What? No. This is your last warning. You need to leave or I’m going to call the cops.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and, even though Jean couldn’t see his face, it must’ve been terrifying since all three of the approaching men stopped in their tracks.

  “Fine. This obviously wasn’t a good time. I’ll be talking to you later,” he warned as he plopped a twenty down on his table and, while shooting a glare at Dickie, walked out.

  ~~~End Of Sneak Peek~~~

  Check out all of Mallory Crowe's Books!

  Billionaires In The City Series

  Teaching The Boss

  Teasing The Boss

  Tempting The Boss

  Devereaux Billionaires Series

  Touching Jace

  Trusting Michael

  Testing Luke

  Taming Rourke

  Fractured Farrells; A Damaged Billionaire Series

  Ruthless

  Reckless

  Remorseless

  Restless

  Relentless

  Bad Boys of the Underworld (A Paranormal series)

  Finding Fire

  Daring Fire

  Binding Fire

  Ruling Fire

  Stealing Fire