“Enough!” Nate growled. “There’s no need for violence, Giselle. Lowering yourself to such levels is not worth it.”
Her lips trembled. “I hate you.”
Ah, that thin line between love and hate.
She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and stomped to where the suitcases sat.
“Let me help you—”
“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “It isn’t enough that we broke up. You couldn’t wait to help me leave your house.”
She had a point, however twisted that sounded, so Nate watched her roll the designer suitcases out. He was on edge to leave immediately, but waited until he heard her car pull away. Not exactly a clean amiable breakup, but then again they rarely were. He hopped on his vintage BMW bike, deciding he needed to feel the ride to calm down the sudden rush of emotions. The last thing he wanted was to storm into Sylvie’s place of business and have it out with her. Somehow, he knew he would end up doing exactly just that.
CHAPTER TWO
“Eighty-six on Tonkotsu ramen!”
She heard Rick Meyer yell from the ramen bar. Sylvie brushed the sleeve of her chef jacket on her forehead even if she was wearing a bandana. It was a crazy busy night. Full house since 5:30 p.m. and she was loving it.
She opened Sapporo Ramen two years ago in the half basement of an old building located at the edge of Washington, D.C. At first, she debated the prudence of a restaurant that was lower than street level, but the whole idea of an underground eatery appealed to her. The constraints of operating in a tight space necessitated she set some rules. No reservations. No substitutions. What was on the menu was what was served, as is. Cash only. She’d been so busy keeping the restaurant afloat those first few months, she didn’t realize she earned herself the reputation as the Soup Nazi of Washington, D.C.
Sylvie quickly coated the chicken pieces in a potato starch mixture and tossed them into the deep fryer. Besides ramen, which was the house specialty, Sapporo also served karaage—Japanese fried chicken and steamed buns. She would often concoct a special ramen for the night depending on seasonal ingredients.
She quickly ran down the tasks she needed to do next. She had three people working the ramen bar. Contrary to popular belief, ramen was not simple to make. It was far from the microwavable crap the general public was used to. It took her almost a year to perfect the texture of her noodles. These needed to be cooked for exactly ninety seconds, rinsed off with a ladle of broth to remove flour residue, and laid in a bowl as a ready bed for the other toppings. Each topping was arranged reverently, from the pork belly and bamboo shoots to the shoyu tamago (marinated egg) and seaweed (fresh or roasted).
The oven timer dinged. Those were the soup bones for the next day.
“Kato,” Sylvie called out to her kitchen assistant who did most of the prep work. He was a young man of twenty-one who was half Japanese and half American just like her. “Can you take out those neck bones and set them to cool? Also, peel the eggs so I can put them in a marinade.”
“Roger that, chef.”
She loved her crew. They worked well as a unit. Most of them had worked for her since the beginning. Rick was the newcomer, and even he had been with her for a year. She had been hesitant to hire Rick at first. He was quite a bruiser of a guy, more ruggedly attractive than handsome. Tall, with well-defined muscles and sleeve tattoos on both arms, his shoulder-length hair was held back with a piece of worn leather. He looked like he belonged to a motorcycle club instead of practicing Zen in the art of ramen behind a bar. He convinced her to hire him though. He pointed out that his charm was the perfect foil to her anti-social behavior, kind of like a good cop, bad cop scenario. She corrected him saying she wasn’t anti-social, just focused when she was in the kitchen. He added he could play up his tattoos and say he’d been a member of the Yakuza to “sorta” propagate the myth. Sylvie didn’t think it was funny. Anyway, he was handy in hauling those big stock pots, and he was quite nimble behind that narrow counter given his bulk.
“You can’t go in there, asshole!” Rick’s pissed-off warning got her tensing up. Last time he said those exact same words in that exact same tone, an irate customer barged into her kitchen because she refused to make substitutions.
“Watch me.” Came the challenging response.
She knew that voice. Sure enough, when she raised her eyes from bobbing pieces of chicken, she was slammed speechless by the sight of heated brown eyes drinking her up. It also bore saying, the kitchen had become considerably smaller given the entrance of a six foot three hunk of man.
She forced herself to relax. “Nate. Good to see you.”
“Good to see you?” His words were scathing. “Is that all you have to say, Sylvie?”
“I’m kinda busy here,” she replied tersely. Thankfully, the chicken was done. Timing was everything to her. She fished out the karaage with the spider ladle.
“You heard her, man,” Rick stepped into the kitchen. Great. The last available inch of kitchen space disappeared.
“Take my advice and back off,” Nate shot back.
Both men squared off in a death glare. Sylvie looked around her kitchen for breakable items. The expensive sake, which she had neglected to move to storage, and aged soy sauce sat on a shelf near the two men.
“Rick, I got this,” Sylvie said sharply. “I swear if you guys get into a scuffle and break my precious sake, I’m going to castrate both of you and turn your balls into the next ramen special.”
Both men winced.
“The swinging steak ramen,” Kato chortled. Her assistant was technically wrong because swinging steak referred to bull testicles, but Sylvie had to admit it had a good ring to it.
Both men turned their glares on her kitchen assistant, effectively shutting him up.
Nate cleared his throat. “Rick, huh?” The two men dialed down the hostility, but the look that passed between them was undecipherable. Weird.
“Rick,” Sylvie repeated. “You’re needed at the bar.”
Her sous chef nodded and backed out of the kitchen. Sylvie folded her arms in front of her and nodded for Kato to leave the kitchen. She knew why Nate was here.
“I’m surprised you check engagement announcements,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Why didn’t you contact me when you broke up with Talbot?”
“Nate, now is not the time,” Sylvie pleaded. “In case you haven’t noticed, the floor is packed.”
Nate smiled. There was a hint of pride in that smile. He was proud of her. His next words confirmed this. “You did good, firecracker.”
Her heart doubled in size. Tripled even. Amazing how a few words from this man could affect her.
The monitor hanging over the prep area popped with two more orders of karaage and several pork belly buns.
“Thanks,” she replied with a shy smile. “But shoo. I’m busy. You can wait for me outside.”
“No seats available. Can’t I wait in here?”
“Look at my kitchen, Nate. If you can’t prep or cook worth a damn, you’re wasting real estate—”
“Ouch,” he had a silly grin on his face. “Can I wait out back? In the parking lot behind the building?”
Sylvie sighed. She knew better than to blow him off. Nate could be the most bullheaded man when he chose to be.
“I’ll talk to you after dinner service.”
“Works for me.”
“It could be a while.”
“I can wait.” He moved closer, ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers. “I miss you, babe.”
“Nate—”
“We’ll talk. I’m not rushing you into anything.”
Her defenses were rapidly crumbling. She couldn’t fall for him. It wasn’t a good idea before, and her life had just gotten more complicated. She had until the end of dinner service to think of a good excuse to rebuff him. Even friendship wasn’t an option any longer.
She simply nodded.
*****
Two hours.
He’d been waiting for two fucking hours, leaning against his bike, which was parked parallel against the wall of the building. The back of the restaurant led out to the parking lot where there were steps that rounded the building, leading up to the entrance of Sapporo Ramen. It was unusual why Sylvie made it so inaccessible, and yet there was a long line of customers waiting to be seated.
This night had taken a strange turn, and he was still trying to figure out what was going on. He was confused as fuck, but nothing would make sense until someone started talking.
The backdoor swung open, and that Rick guy stepped out.
The man scowled at him and muttered, “You nearly blew my cover, asshole.”
“Hardly,” Nate replied tersely. “What I want to know is why a DEA agent is moonlighting as a ramen chef?”
“Would you be quiet,” Rick, also known as Cade Bowen, cautioned in an angry whisper. Cade walked away from the building, gesturing for Nate to follow him. Nate had worked with Cade in Afghanistan when the DEA agent was part of the Foreign-deployed Advisory and Support Team (DEA FAST).
When they were a distance away, the DEA agent turned to Nate. “How do you know Sylvie?”
“She’s an old friend.”
Cade cursed and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.
“What’s going on, Cade?” Nate asked grimly. “Is Sylvie in trouble with the DEA?”
“Do you know she’s the daughter of Daichi Yoshida?”
“She’s his illegitimate daughter. As far as I know, she has nothing to do with her father’s business.” Daichi Yoshida was one of the key leaders of the Asian Crime Syndicate, a powerful hybrid mafia organization borne of the Yakuza and the Chinese Triad. The grim look on Cade’s face wasn’t promising. “Are you saying otherwise?”
The other man regarded him for a beat before saying, “I really can’t talk about this, so I’m appealing to your sense of duty to country not to blow my cover.”
“Is Sylvie in trouble?” Nate repeated.
Cade nodded.
“I presume since it’s the DEA, it has something to do with drugs.”
“Nate, I’m not comfortable discussing—”
“Look, whatever illegal shit you think she’s doing, I doubt she’s doing it willingly.”
“I know. I determined that early on, but you think the higher-ups give a damn?”
“You know there’s nothing Sylvie cares more about than her career as a chef.”
“Again. I know that. Unless you’ve missed the part where I’m her sous chef.”
“So what? You’re just going to let her go down for this?”
“My hands are tied—”
“Bullshit—”
“Dammit, Nate, what do you suggest I do? Go against orders? My boss wants to nail Yoshida’s ass.”
“Nailing down an ACS boss is a lofty goal, Bowen. Even the CIA knows it’s best to leave that organization alone.”
“My boss is ambitious.”
Nate’s mouth curved in a mocking smile. “Nothing like blind ambition.” Through all this, the gears in his brain were trying to figure out a way to handle the situation. “Listen, I’m not going to compromise your job if I don’t have to—”
“Fuck, man—”
“Would you listen,” Nate snapped. “I need to know you’ll do everything to help Sylvie. That you’re on her side.”
“That’s asking too much at this point. I already have proof that could land her ass in jail for a couple of years. We just need to reel in the bigger fish.”
Nate dragged his fingers through his hair, pacing back and forth a couple of times. “I’ll talk to her, try to get her to open up about what’s going on.”
“You think I haven’t tried?”
“How long have you worked for her?”
“Almost year.”
“I’ve known her for nine.”
Cade’s eyes widened.
“Between us, I have the advantage to get through to her,” Nate added. “I give you fair warning, I’m not going to let her be a victim of bureaucratic agenda. You know what I’m capable of, Bowen.”
“Sounds like a threat,” Cade replied, but a grin tugged at his mouth.
“Maybe. You can take that to your boss.”
“Shit. The last thing I want is a war between the CIA and DEA,” Cade muttered.
“I’m no longer CIA.”
The other man snorted. “Yes, but you have your connections, Nate. Let’s not mince words here.”
Both men tensed when the back door swung open. The parking lot lighting illuminated Sylvie’s anxious face, which quickly washed with relief when she saw them.
“Thank God,” Sylvie said. “I thought you two were killing each other.”
“That only happens when I have to defend your honor,” Nate replied, chuckling at the annoyed look she shot him. “You ready, babe?”
“We can talk here.”
Nate stared at Cade, but was addressing her. “Not for what we have to discuss. We’re going for a ride on my bike.”
“My car’s here, Nate.”
“We’ll come back for it,” Unless you end up at my place. He quickly dispelled the idea. Too sleazy seeing that he and Giselle had just broken up. He wasn’t suggesting her place either in case it was bugged.
“Rick,” Sylvie turned to Cade. “Can you finish the broth? It’s been simmering with the bones for the past two hours. It needs another hour. I’ll finish it up before dinner service tomorrow.”
“Got it, chef.” Cade nodded to Nate and walked back to the restaurant.
Nate doffed his leather jacket and put it around her. “It’s warmed up some, but might still be too chilly for you.” He noted with satisfaction how she inhaled the scent of his jacket as he helped her into it.
He grabbed his helmet and slipped it on her.
“How about you?” she whispered.
“I’ll be fine. I still have your helmet at the house. I wasn’t sure how this evening would turn out.”
She twitched her nose in disdain.
“It’s still all yours, firecracker,” Nate said, reading her mind. Just like all the other parts of him that belonged to her.
Now if only he could convince her of it.
*****
She missed riding on the back of Nate’s bike. They’d been in a cold war for almost fifteen months. He didn’t deserve what she did. There had been too much pressure from Brad, the restaurant, and from them. Brad had always been jealous of Nate. Not that she blamed her ex-boyfriend. Nine years ago, she and Nate had embarked on a scorching three-month hookup that never really fizzled out, but his work and her ambition got in the way. Rather than give each other up, they agreed to remain friends.
She sunk into the oversized jacket, wishing she could surround herself with his smell. She tightened her arms around him instead, fully aware of the hard ridges of his ab muscles. Her fingers splayed over his torso, the temptation to go further south challenging her will. Though it could be her imagination, he seemed to have tensed up. They’d been in this dance so many times before, the point of teetering back into a relationship wrought with lust, but always they were afraid to ruin their friendship.
Nate took the turn on the road that would lead to their special spot overlooking the Potomac River. The bike kicked up some gravel on the unpaved path before it rolled on the grass. He stopped under a canopy of trees and killed the bike, engaging the kickstand.
Sylvie reluctantly uncurled her arms from around him, pulled the helmet off, and adjusted her ponytail. She then got off the bike and stretched.
“You okay?” Nate asked gruffly.
His face was shadowed, but she could feel his eyes piercing into her in the darkness.
“Yes.” She pretended to study her shoes, but she didn’t want to avoid the talk any longer. “So.”
“So.” Nate replied.
“Talk.”
“Did you ever regret what you did?” Straight to the point.
“Y
ou know I did.”
“No, Sylvie, I don’t. That was a shitty thing to do. I get that Brad was your boyfriend, but we had almost eight years of friendship to let that asshole dictate to you who your friends should be.”
“He was jealous of you.”
“So? My girlfriends were jealous of you, but I never failed to be there when you needed me.”
“I was trying to save my relationship with Brad!”
“Yeah? How did that work for you? He’s marrying someone else. So I’m really pissed that you had to cut me from your life and it ended up being all for nothing.”
Her temper was flaring. This was so not how she pictured this conversation. “Is this why you stormed into my restaurant, so you can rub my nose in my mistakes?”
“No,” Nate growled. “I just needed to get that off my chest, seeing how eight years of friendship boiled down to a measly phone call saying you can’t see or talk to me anymore. My pride kept me from confronting you, but I’m done with that shit. What I want to know is why you didn’t contact me after you broke up with that asshole.”
Sylvie turned away from Nate. “My life has gotten complicated.”
Silence.
Puzzled, she turned around. Nate was just staring at her. Guess he needed more.
“I was too busy with the restaurant, Nate, I didn’t have time—”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did you break up with Talbot?”
“Nine months ago.”
“In all that time, you couldn’t pick up the phone?”
“Life got in the way, okay!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Even now, I’m not sure we can go back to what we used to be.”
“You can be sure of that,” Nate muttered.
“What do you want, Nate?” she challenged.
He closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders. “What do I want?” He ducked his head until his face was just a hair’s breadth away. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. “What I want is you.” Her breathing hitched, and just when she thought he was going to kiss her, he let her go and took a step back.
“Are you seeing anyone now?” His question cut through the night with such menacing precision that if she had been seeing someone, she would be tempted to lie.
A Love For Always Page 2