by Karen Kelley
He noticed the tremble in her hand as she pushed her hair behind one ear. Yeah, he was pretty sure there was a whole hell of a lot more to her story. "Then, at least have a glass of orange juice before you leave."
Her gaze raised. "That would be nice."
As he stood, she made her way over to the table and took a seat. He brought down a glass, then got the orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured some in it. When he handed it to her, she took a drink.
He sat back down at the table. "How much money do you have?"
She quickly moved her hands to her lap. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think about paying you. How much do you need for bringing me here?"
He shook his head. "I don’t need your money. How much do you have?"
She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Four hundred."
For a moment, he lost himself watching her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. He wondered if she knew how damned sexy it was. He quickly cleared his mind.
Four hundred, she’d said. That's what he’d thought. That would get her down the road, but that was about it. She would soon find herself living on the streets. A young woman, all alone, who looked like her? She'd never survive.
Carter had asked about the vacation Breaker had planned to take. They’d been working nonstop on a case for the last few months. Getting back to the bar occasionally had been nice, but always short-lived. He’d planned to take at least a month-long vacation or longer from his government work. It didn't seem as if that was going to happen.
He would probably regret this, but he felt he would regret it even more if he didn't do something. He finished his coffee and stood, taking his cup to the sink and rinsing it.
"You can stay here until you get on your feet." He placed his cup in the dishwasher, then turned back around. She still hadn't spoken.
"I can't do that to you. Marco will come after me. He won't stop until he finds me, then he'll destroy everyone around me. It would be better if I just got on the bus and went far away from you."
"You won’t get far with only four hundred dollars. Your safest bet is to stay here."
She raised her chin, and for a moment, he saw a little bit of defiance. So, Marco hadn't completely stolen it from her. That was good. She might need it later.
"I don't want your charity," she said.
"Who said it was charity? I'll give you a job in the bar if it makes you feel better. Angie can always use help."
"Angie?"
"She runs the bar when I'm away." He laughed lightly. "Hell, she runs it while I'm here, too. She can be kind of bossy, but I think you'll like her. For now, you can stay here. It'll be safer."
“They found me last night,” she said.
“Only because they followed the trail you left.” He studied her for a moment. “You didn’t just run away, did you? Who helped you?”
She shook her head. She brought the glass of juice to her lips and took a drink, then set the glass back down on the table. “No one helped me. At least, not in the way you mean. I hid in the back of Martin’s pickup. He’s Marco’s gardener,” she told him.
He was thoughtful for a moment. “They probably contacted the gardener and discovered he stopped at the convenience store for gas. They would’ve figured out you probably went into the restaurant until he left. It wouldn’t have taken them long to realize who you left with, especially if they had more than those two goons looking for you.”
“Then it won’t take them long to find out where I went from there.”
“Except this bar is listed under another name. I decided a long time ago that I would need to keep my other job separate just in case my work tried to follow me home. You’re safe here.”
She raised her head and looked at him. He saw the trace of fear in her eyes.
“I work for the government. It’s all legal.” At least most of it. Maybe not killing the two men last night. He’d done worse for the government, though. Besides, he was taking criminals off the street.
"Then thank you," she said, downing her head.
"I'm going downstairs," he told her. "There are a few things I need to check on. When you're ready, you can join me. I'll give you the grand tour if you'd like."
He figured she would need a little time to herself, besides, he wanted to call Carter and see if he’d found out anything about his mystery guest.
Once he was downstairs, he unlocked the bar, then went inside. There was something about walking inside the bar after being away for a while. It always filled him with a rush of pride. This place was his. He’d paid off the loan a couple of years ago. He knew he would never get rich from it, but it was something he could call his own. That was important to him.
The bar wasn't large, but it could easily hold one hundred and fifty or so since he'd renovated and added another room about a year ago. He'd kept the scarred tables because he kind of liked them, but added more comfortable chairs.
There were a dozen barstools lined in front of the long mahogany bar. The next room was for food prep. There was a large walk-in refrigerator with freezer and a storage room. The cooking area was enclosed except for an opening with a narrow counter to set food out.
It was just a small grill, but you could get a burger and fries or a pizza. There was always an assortment of snacks to order. Nothing fancy, but it was exactly what he'd wanted. He stopped and checked on a few things behind the bar, then opened the door to the cooking area, checking the walk-in refrigerator and freezer. From the well-stocked shelves, he could see that Angie had already gotten in supplies.
The day he'd convinced her to go to work for him was the best day of his life. She'd turned out to be a damn good waitress, then his manager. She'd hired a couple of waitresses when the bar began to get a good reputation as a nice place to visit with friends, sit a while after a hard day of work, or just to have a night out. A couple of times a month, they even had a band. Usually locals.
The cook was a down on his luck, retired veteran. Yeah, Shorty had a few problems now and then, but he'd improved the longer he'd worked for Breaker. It didn't hurt that they'd both seen things that no one should ever see, and they'd never be able to forget.
He came out and went down a short hallway and opened the door of his office. Papers littered his desk. It was almost funny that his life since he’d joined the military had become so organized, except for his desk. He’d never been one for filing things away nice and neat. Angie called it an organized mess. She was right.
He went inside, leaving the door open to circulate the stale air. Angie never used his office when he was gone. She preferred to sit at the bar after hours to do any paperwork. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he sat down. Carter answered on the second ring.
"Don't you ever sleep in?" He groggily responded.
"Don't you ever get up early? Sleeping only wastes time."
"Yeah, but I stayed up late checking on your girlfriend."
Breaker frowned. "She's not my girlfriend. What did you find out?"
"Not a lot. She just seemed to appear at his side a few years ago. She looks young. Late teens, early twenties. Her first name is Savannah, but I don't have a last name."
"Well, she has to have a last name."
"It's Harris," Savannah said from the doorway.
Breaker looked up. "I'll call you back." He ended the call, then placed his phone on his desk.
"I don't suppose I blame you for wanting to know more about me since you offered me a place to stay and a job,” she continued. “My name is Savannah Harris."
Okay, so they were going to have a moment of truth. That was fine with him. He didn't like being left in the dark about anything. He stood, walking around to the front of his desk, and leaning against it. He crossed his arms in front of him. "How did you end up with someone like Marco Sanchez?"
She hugged her middle. For a moment, Breaker didn't think she was going to answer him.
"My father."
"Your father knew him?"
She
shrugged. "I don't know if he knew him or not, or even how they met. He just showed up at our house one day."
"And you left with him? Just like that? Didn’t you suspect what kind of man he was?"
She slowly shook her head. "No, not just like that. I was fourteen at the time, and I didn’t have a choice. My father sold me to Marco for five thousand dollars." She raised her chin and met his gaze head-on again. Again, Breaker saw a bit of defiance that Marco hadn't been able to steal away. “There, now you know. If you'd like, I can leave. I'll understand if you don't want me here."
"This doesn't change my mind about giving you a place to stay. If anything, it tells me that I did the right thing," he said. What the hell kind of father sells his own child, especially to a man like Marco? He had to have known Marco was mixed up with the drug cartel.
"My father was an alcoholic," she said, as if she’d read his mind. "Not that I'm making excuses for him. He was a bastard. He never cared for his children."
"Children?"
"I have an older sister, Jade. He sold her first, and a younger one, Rena. I promised I would go back for her.” She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. “I tried to run away that night, but one of Marco's men found me and brought me back. That night, he taught me why I shouldn't run away again, but I knew there would come a time when I would try again, except he had a guard with me whenever I left the house."
"How did you escape?" he asked.
“I knew he had a big drug shipment coming in. Over the years, I'd taken money from his wallet and hidden it. Just a few dollars here and there that I was sure he wouldn’t miss. I knew this might be the only chance I ever got, at least for a long time. I’d already made sure he thought I'd resigned myself to him owning me.”
“That was smart.”
“It was the only thing I knew to do. That evening, he took all his men with him. I waited until I knew the gardener was getting ready to leave, and I hid in the back of his pickup.
"And he stopped at the convenience store," Breaker filled in.
“Something changed about the drug shipment. Marco and his men came back early. He shouldn’t have realized I was gone that soon.” She finally raised her gaze and met his. "I didn't mean to pull you into my problems."
He studied her. She'd been fourteen when her father sold her. He'd been fourteen when he ran away from his. He knew all about alcoholics and what they could do to their children.
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Don't worry about Marco. I can handle him."
"You don't know what he's capable of doing."
"Yes, I do. I know all about men like him. He doesn't scare me. Now, I promised you the grand tour." He knew outwardly he looked calm, but everything inside him felt as if he was about to boil over. If he got the chance, Breaker knew he would kill Marco. People like him shouldn't be allowed to walk this earth.
Chapter Six
Savannah met Angie later that day when she came to work. Breaker introduced them, then left them to get to know each other. She forced back the panic that tried to overwhelm her. If she wanted to win against Marco, then she had to fight against what he'd wanted her to become.
“Have you ever worked in a bar?” Angie asked.
She tensed. The woman was probably early fifties, with dark hair threaded with strands of gray. Her smile was warm. There was something about the older woman that made her feel more comfortable. She immediately began to relax. “I’ve never had a job,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
The door to the bar opened, and Savannah jumped. A younger woman with the brightest red hair Savannah had ever seen came strolling inside. Savannah relaxed. When she turned back to Angie, the other woman was looking at her strangely.
“You might be better in the back helping Shorty, at least until you feel a bit more comfortable. He’s our cook. He could use another pair of hands.”
She sighed with relief. The thought of being around a roomful of people terrified her.
“Hey, Rayan, come meet Savannah. She’ll be helping Shorty in the back.
Rayan’s smile was wide and warm. Savannah couldn't stop herself from returning it with a slight lifting at the corners of her mouth. The woman's shirt was a little tight, putting a strain on the buttons, and her cutoff, blue jean shorts were also a little tight and a bit too short. Rayan had a tattoo of a vine of roses trailing up her right arm.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Rayan said with a distinct drawl, showing her white teeth.
Before she could speak, Angie began to talk. “Why do you insist on wearing clothes two sizes too small?” She was shaking her head.
Savannah didn’t think Rayan’s smile could get any wider, but it did.
“Because the men are always hoping one of these buttons is going to pop. They don’t know I reinforced them to make sure they don’t. I figure because I’m showing a little skin, I’m going to get better tips, and I do.”
“There is that,” Angie said with a sigh of resignation.
“You know it.” She laughed, then turned to Savannah. “You another stray the boss found?”
Savannah looked at Angie.
“Be good, Rayan,” she warned.
“It’s no biggie. We’re all strays here. People Breaker picked up, dusted off, then made us feel like it’s okay we’re walking the earth with everyone else.”
Savannah decided she liked Rayan with all her honesty and brashness. “Yes, I’m another stray, I suppose.”
“Well, don’t let it bother you. I was working a street corner in Dallas, Texas when I ran across Breaker. One of my customers decided he wanted it a little too rough and was using me as a punching bag. Breaker showed him what it felt like, then carried me to his car, and took me to the hospital. When I got out, he was there waiting for me and offered me a job. I figured it had to be better than the streets." She opened her arms wide. "And here I am."
Angie reached behind her and grabbed a cloth and a spray bottle. “And we’re so glad you are,” she said, then handed the cleaning supplies to Rayan.
Rayan took them. "Just remember, Savannah, Angie can be a real pain in the rear.” She bounced off to clean the tabletops and chairs.
"And Rayan will talk your head off if you're not careful." She was smiling, though. "We open at three in the afternoon and we usually close around one in the morning. Come on, and I'll show you where you'll be working."
Angie was explaining where they kept everything when Shorty came in. She quickly made the introductions while Savannah studied him. He wasn't much taller than her. She guessed him to be about five feet, eight inches, and close to seventy years old. His hair was white, and his face lined with age, but his eyes were kind. That was what drew Savannah to him. She immediately felt comfortable.
"You going to be washing the dishes?" he asked, then crinkled his nose. "Never did like washing dishes."
She couldn't stop the smile from forming on her face. "It would be a pleasure to wash your dishes."
Shorty looked at Angie, then smiled. "She'll do."
"Then I'll leave her in your capable hands, and she can help you set up for tonight's crowd."
"Don't worry,” Shorty said after Angie left. “This is Wednesday, our slowest night of the week. By the time Friday rolls around, you'll be more confident working here."
“Does it show that much?” she asked.
“You look like a scared rabbit about to dart off if someone even looks a little bit like they might pounce.”
“I’ve never had a job,” she admitted. He studied her long enough that she dropped her gaze down to her feet.
“You’ll do just fine. Won’t no one hurt you here,” he spoke kindly. “Breaker has helped us all in one way or the other.”
She raised her face and saw a glimmer of what she saw in her own reflection in the mirror every morning. She sensed his life hadn’t been easy. She only hoped he was right about being safe here.
“Let’s make a trip to the f
reezer so we can get started.”
After a couple of hours, she was already getting used to working with Shorty. He talked to himself, a lot. She found herself smiling more often than not. Once, she even laughed. He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.
Had she done something wrong? She immediately sobered. "What?"
"I reckon you don't laugh a whole lot."
She let out the breath she'd been holding. He was very observant. She hadn't picked up on that about him. She could lie. She was pretty sure Breaker wouldn't say anything about her past. So yes, she could do that, but then she looked into Shorty’s eyes. The kindness was still there.
"I haven't had much reason to smile in a very long time," she relented, telling him that her life hadn't been good until now without explaining how her father sold her to Marco.
Shorty nodded. "Breaker is a good guy. He gave me a job when no one else would let me work for them. I suppose they thought I should just live off my disability check the Army sends me and be happy with that. My mama used to always tell me that idle hands do the devil's work. For me, being idle kept me thinking about stuff that I didn't want to think about anymore. I was in a bad way when Breaker gave me this job."
"But you're doing better now?"
He slowly nodded. "Yeah, for an old coot, I'm doing pretty good."
The door to the bar opened, and several men came in laughing and talking as they took seats at one of the tables. A few minutes later, Angie slapped an order on the counter between the bar and where Shorty worked.
"Order up!"
"And we’re off and running," Shorty sang out as he grabbed the piece of paper, glanced at it, then slapped a hamburger patty on the hot grill. The meat immediately began to sizzle and spit.
The next few hours were a swirl of activity. Shorty had already given her an apron so she wouldn't ruin her clothes, and a pair of rubber gloves he said was so she wouldn't ruin her pretty hands. As soon as the dirty dishes began to make their way back to her, she stopped slicing tomatoes and started washing dishes and putting them in the drainer to dry. When the number of dishes slowed, she'd go back to helping Shorty with whatever chore he gave her.
