Master Chef

by Danielle Berggren

  Ethan stopped me with a gentle finger on my lips. I swallowed and realized that I had been crying. He leaned forward and kissed me beneath each eye, drinking my tears. “Go to the police tomorrow,” he said, his tone soothing, gentle. “Tell them what you suspect.”

  “It sounds far-fetched even in my ears,” I murmured. “Am I just being paranoid?”

  I felt the motion as he shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to have them on the alert, just in case. Tell them that you suspect him of drug use and that he’s been intimidating when you’ve run into him in the past two months.”

  “He has been,” I muttered. “And I’m so thankful that you were there.”

  He leaned forward and kissed me. I could feel the curve of his mouth when he did. “You’re mine,” he whispered against my lips. “Mine,” he said. “Mine to protect. I won’t have anyone hurting you.”

  I ran my hands up his arms and over his back. I felt tears start up again, hot and prickling in my eyes. “Why,” I choked. “Why do you want to protect me? Why do you care so much?”

  Why are you this perfect?

  He pressed his mouth against mine again and then kissed away the tears that began to fall. When his lips pressed against mine, I could taste the salt of my tears in his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I know that every time I see you, hear your voice, touch your skin or catch your scent I want to be closer to you. I want to wrap myself up in you. I love falling asleep beside you every night, and waking up next to you every morning.”

  I took a deep breath, waiting.

  Is he going to tell me he loves me?

  I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear that. I wanted to hear it, almost needed to hear it, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready. The last time I had loved someone, truly loved them...

  Jason and I were only bad at the end. In the beginning, I had loved him more than I had loved anyone in my whole life. It was obsessive, almost to the point that I would disregard anything, or anyone else to stay with him, to be everything he wanted. I fell into that love and lost myself.

  Would I feel the same with Ethan? Did I? It didn’t feel like it had with Jason at the beginning, but...

  Yes. Yes, I love him.

  And the thought terrified me.

  “You’re mine,” Ethan said. The words were more than just words. There was a weight to them, a purpose. There was more than what he was saying. I could feel it. “Do you hear me, Veronica? Mine.”

  I nodded and wrapped my arms around my shoulders, lifting my body toward his in an embrace. “Yes,” I said. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

  And that had to be enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Veronica

  “I don’t like the thought of you going down there alone,” he said.

  I shook my head, “I know you want to protect me, Ethan, but there’s a line. You’re not going to follow me to the gym and watch me work out with my best friend. This is girl time.”

  He sighed and finished spooning the leftovers into the glass container. “Fine,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

  I grinned.

  It had been a week since we were at Secret and had run into Jason. February had come and the most romantic day of the year—also known as ‘hold onto your butts’ time—was fast approaching. I had gone to the police with Ethan last week and told the lead investigator of my suspicions. He had taken it just as well as I had expected—with an empty promise to look into it and a bored, dissatisfied expression. He reminded me that the case was three months old and they only had the one suspected lead from the arrest in Mendocino. It hadn’t panned out. I avoided telling him off only by the gentle pressure of Ethan’s hand at my back. He knew what I had been thinking.

  Jason had never known what I was thinking.

  I went into the kitchen and gave Ethan a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  He grabbed my wrist before I could go, pulling me into a longer, deeper kiss. I pulled back with reluctance, but I was running late. “I have to go.”

  He sighed, “Then I’ll see you later tonight. I have to be at Poisson until eight to go over the new menu with Mr. Simmons.” He smiled, “It should be you there, since it was your idea in the first place.”

  I smiled, “You’re a good representative. Plus, it’s been ages since Fiona and I worked out. She’s been all wrapped up with George.” I smiled and shook my head, “As I’ve been wrapped up with you. I have to go. I’ll see you tonight. We’ll order in?”

  He nodded, “Order in.”

  I blew him a kiss and left before he could think of another excuse to keep me there. The last time I had gone to the gym he said he had to ‘inspect’ my workout attire for any stray fibers. Which, of course, led to fewer clothes, and something of a pre-workout warm-up.

  I shouldered my gym bag and hailed a taxi once I was out on the street. I gave the driver Fiona’s address and sat back, a stupid grin on my face. Ethan had that effect on me even when he wasn’t around—just being with him, knowing what I would return to, made me happier.

  Fiona wasn’t outside of her building when I pulled up, but I didn’t blame her. I was almost fifteen minutes late. I had the taxi double-park while I darted out to run upstairs and see if she was ready.

  Fiona lived at the top of a five-story walkup, which was part of the reason she refused to use the stair master. She had thighs of steel.

  Halfway up, a door opened. I moved around it, glancing over. I expected to see one of the tenants—I was familiar with almost everyone in the building—but what I saw stopped me cold.

  “Jason?”

  He grinned at me, and then something smacked into my head. I fell against the wall, too dazed to call out. He was on me, his fist cracking into my skull again, then again.

  I was too shocked, too in pain, to do much of anything but grunt and raise my arms to defend myself. He pressed a cloth to my face, filling my nose and mouth with sickly fumes that reminded me of a hospital. He hissed in my ear, “I told you I’d get you, bitch.”

  The hallway swam, gray and white edging my vision. My head throbbed, and my body felt weak. My limbs shook as I tried to push him away. He dragged me back into the apartment, the cloth still pressed against my face. I struggled, but he just kicked my legs out from underneath me and wrapped an arm across my chest, backing up with me into the apartment.

  I clawed at the door, at the wall, and I felt my nails tear.

  “Get the door,” he called out to someone, dropping my body and falling with me so that he kept the cloth against my face. He knelt on my chest, knees digging into the bend of my arm. I tried to scream and just sucked in another suffocating lung full of whatever he had soaked the cloth in.

  I gagged, choking.

  Someone stomped past us and shut the door, plunging the short hall into shadow.

  Jason leaned down, his breath sour and hot against my eyes. “Breathe deep now, Veronica. Breathe real fucking deep.” He leaned even closer, “I may not know where you live, you stupid cunt, but I know where your friend lives.”

  I couldn’t see anything, not even if I had a hand right in front of my face. I kept trying to cough, but every time I did the fumes filled me.

  No, I thought. No, you crazy fucking bastard, you’re not going to do this to me.

  I struggled harder, bringing my knees up. He grunted, and I managed to work one of my arms free of his leg, bringing my nails down like claws on his face. I felt his skin give, felt the warm wash of blood coat my fingers and begin to drip down on my chest.

  He screamed and pressed hard against the cloth. My jaw ached, and I could taste blood in my mouth. “Get over here!” He yelled, “Help me pin this bitch down.”

  New hands on me. They grasped my legs and my free arm, slamming the limbs against the floor with a crack of pain that seemed to throb through my body and straight to my temples.

  The gray and white edges were back and gaining momentum, rolling over my vision like the
ocean fog. I tried to shake my head, to bite him through the cloth, and only succeeded in choking myself still further.

  I can’t breathe.

  I panicked, thrashing against those that held me.

  Don’t pass out, I thought.

  Don’t pass out.

  If I did, what would I wake up to? Something worse. Something much, much worse.

  Don’t pass out.

  I couldn’t see. Everything was white.

  Don’t pass out.

  Don’t pass out

  Don’t—

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ethan

  I looked at the clock.

  Only two more hours until I could go home and see Veronica.

  “Tonight’s the night,” I said aloud. I was going to say it.

  Just as I had gathered my courage to talk to Veronica, to ask her out, three months ago, now I steeled myself for the confession that was long overdue.

  It’s simple. We’ll order from our favorite Chinese place—just the fact that ‘we’ had a favorite Chinese place spoke volumes—and over dinner I’ll tell her I want her to stay. That I never want to wake up without her at my side.

  I wasn’t going to propose though the thought tickled at the back of my mind. It was too soon for that. But I would tell her that I loved her. Those were three words I had never spoken to anyone before, even if I had thought I’d felt it.

  This time, I didn’t just think, I knew.

  “Tonight’s what night, chef?” Esteban asked, glancing over at me from where he was checking our order of pears.

  I shook my head, “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes you did,” Julio said. He was checking off the wine list against what we had in our stores, his pen poised over the metal clipboard. “You distinctly said, ‘tonight’s the night.’”

  I glared at the two of them.

  Julio’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Esteban. “Do you think he’s finally going to do it?”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Nah, man,” Esteban replied, slamming his own clipboard down. “Chef blows hard, but he’s a chicken shit.”

  I felt my blood go hot. “Excuse me?”

  They both grinned.

  Julio came over and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Chef, with all due respect, if you don’t treat that lady right we’re going to kick your ass.”

  Esteban nodded.

  I looked between the two of them, scowl in place, but behind their grins I saw the seriousness in their eyes. “Do you two care to explain what in the world you’re talking about?”

  “Ah, hell, man, everyone knows you and Veronica are a hot item,” Esteban said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “You going to deny it? Don’t.” He pointed between Julio and himself. “We know. And you best be telling her how you feel, or she’s going to drop your ass and find someone that will appreciate her for the fine woman she is.”

  “Truth,” Julio said, his hand squeezing down a little harder than necessary. He released me and stepped back. “And stop frowning at us. We’re all men here.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, “You’re threatening me if I don’t tell her I love her?”

  “Hell yeah,” they said in tandem.

  “Plus, you just said that you did,” Julio pointed out. “You gotta say it to her now. Not fair to tell your brothers and leave your girl out of it.”

  “We saw what that prick did to her,” Esteban continued. “Are you going to do the same, or are you going to stand by her?”

  “I stand by her,” I said. “I’ll always stand by her.”

  “That’s our guy,” Julio whacked my shoulder again and I frowned. He backed up, hands raised in placation. “No worries, man, that’ll be the last you hear about it from us so long as you behave right.”

  Esteban nodded. “You ain’t seen my moves yet, man, but we could take you.”

  “Hell yeah,” Julio nodded, grinning again. “Us and ten of our buddies, but we could take you.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. They both stared at me as though they had just seen a pig stand up and do the Macarena.

  We were saved by any further male bonding by my cell phone ringing. I dug in my back pocket and narrowed my eyes at the number. I stepped away from the boys and answered.

  “Fiona, why are you calling me?”

  She sighed over the line, the sound like static. “I know this is probably too little, too late, but you wouldn’t happen to be holding my best friend hostage in bed, would you?”

  I frowned, “No.”

  There was a pause. “Okay,” she said, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “But Veronica’s with you, isn’t she? She never showed up for our workout. It’s been hours and I just assumed that she was getting some. I’m still ready if she wants to pop over now.”

  I glanced up at the clock. Six. “She left for your place four hours ago. Are you sure she’s not there? Just camped out in the hallway or something?”

  A sound and a click over the line, and then Fiona was back. “No, she’s not out there, and there’s no note on my door. Are you sure she was coming straight here? She didn’t have to meet with her bank or her insurance or anything?”

  “She didn’t mention it,” I said, my stomach knotting. “I’ll call her cell phone and see if I can get an answer.”

  “I’ve been trying it but I can’t get through. Maybe you can.”

  I thanked her and hung up, then dialed Veronica’s contact number with shaking fingers. Her face smiled up at me from the photo I had taken of her, outside at the pier on one of our trips to the fish market. I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.

  It seemed like it rang a long time before an unfamiliar male voice picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hello, who is this? I’m trying to reach Veronica Delaware.”

  “Ah,” the man said. “This is City Cab. This phone was left in the back seat of one of our units this afternoon. The lady skipped out on her fare, too, so if you want to claim it, you have to pay that off.”

  I leaned against one of the stainless steel counters, “When was this?”

  “Around two-thirty this afternoon,” the man said, his tone bored. “Look, man, just come down to our office,” he rattled off an address. “And I’ll give you back the phone and the bag. I don’t know anything else.”

  He hung up without another word and I stood there like an idiot with the phone pressed to my ear for another few heartbeats.

  My heart pounded in my chest. I straightened and looked over at the guys. They were laughing and talking while they continued their inventory.

  Am I just being paranoid? I thought.

  No, I decided, no. Not about this. I dialed the police.

  “San Francisco police department, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked.

  I began to explain, in as calm a manner as I could, what I suspected. “My girlfriend’s gone missing,” I said. The lady sighed, but I continued on. I could feel the attention of Esteban and Julio at my back. “She has this ex-boyfriend, you might have heard of him, Jason Sanger? He’s a real piece of work in person. She went to meet a friend to work out and left her bag and phone in the cab and her friend hasn’t seen her. That was four hours ago. We have an open case with the police department—a fire at her apartment and assault outside our place of work.” I rattled off the important dates and tried to stop myself from trembling. I want to hit something. To run. But this was all I could do right now.

  I didn’t notice the smell until Julio said something.

  “Dude, we don’t have the burners on, do we?” He asked.

  I waved my hand at him, impatient, listening while the dispatcher typed.

  “No, man,” Esteban said. “And that smells like gasoline, what—”

  There was a sudden whoosh, and the world exploded.

  I came to with my phone still at my ear. The dispatcher was almost screaming.

  “Sir! Sir, are you alright?”

  I groaned
and sat up. Esteban and Julio cursed behind me.

  Black smoke boiled up the outer walls and heat radiated toward us. I choked.

  “Sir!” The dispatcher screamed. “I’m zeroing in on your location. Do you need an ambulance?”

  “Fire,” I coughed. “Fire.” I choked and sat up, my ears ringing. “Poisson d’Azur,” I slurred. I told her the address, halting to cough and sputter. I crawled across the tile to the two other men. Fruits and bottles of wine rolled across the floor. The air was becoming too hot and smoke-filled to breathe.

  “Sir, get to a safe place and stay on the line if you can, I’m dispatching units to you now.”

  I grasped a hand and felt a strong pulse. Julio coughed. “Jesus,” he almost yelled. “We got to get out. Esteban!”

  Esteban called out, “I’m fine.”

  We all stood, even though the smoke was thicker up top. My eyes watered, and the heat was growing in intensity, but I led them toward the front of the restaurant. The fire had started in the rear, I was sure.

  We had to feel our way through the kitchen. I had thought I knew every turn and corner like the back of my hand, that I could make it through blind, but sharp corners leaped out of nowhere and I kept stumbling. A few times Esteban or Julio would do the same, but there was always one of us to help support the others.

  Once through the swinging doors, the smoke cleared, though the dining room was filled with a gray haze. We ran for the front doors.

  They were locked. I fumbled in my pocket for my keys and almost dropped them.

  “Come on, man!” Julio called.

  I found the key and unlocked the door. We slammed through and ran to the opposite end of the parking lot. The fresh air felt like the sweetest water in my mouth, but as soon as we had stopped I was doubled over, coughing.

  “Jesus Cristo,” Esteban murmured through coughs. He began to pray in rapid Spanish while we all bent over, coughing.