Except their waitress.
“Sadie,” she'd said when they'd first sat down. She was anything but invisible, but hell if he could pinpoint why. She should’ve been. At first glance, everything about her was wholly unremarkable.
“Your lamb, sir.”
Like she’d been summoned by his thoughts, Sadie appeared next to him and set a long, rectangular plate in front of him. He thanked her, making a mental note to grab for the bill before any of the other men could get to it. Hannigan was a notoriously terrible tipper, and she had been good at her job, so he wanted to make sure she was compensated accordingly.
She passed out the rest of the plates to silence before gifting them with a lukewarm smile.
“Please, let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be back to check on you shortly,” she said before bustling away.
She’d barely gotten three feet when Hannigan continued. “Like I was saying, let me tell you, when she took off that bra and I saw those tits were real-”
Jake tamped down the fast-rising irritation and held back a sigh of relief as his mobile phone buzzed. He made a show of looking down at the screen before offering his companions a curt nod. “Excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to take this call.”
He stood and made his way to the empty bar area, declining the call before holding the phone to his ear. He didn’t recognize the number, probably a telemarketer, but he needed a breather.
There were times when he could wear the persona like a second skin. Pretend he was nothing more than a business man and that Hannigan was just another associate.
And then there were times like right now, when every word was a struggle. When even a smile on the other man’s lips was enough to make Jake want to leap across the table and pound his bloody face in for what he’d done. But a beating was far too good for Alistair Hannigan. Until Jake could repay him full measure for his crimes, he had to stay calm. Keep cool.
He stalled for another few minutes, checking the stock market and his emails before taking a steadying breath and heading back toward the dining room.
He was just about to round the corner when something hard caught him straight in the gut. An instant later, ice cold liquid streamed down the front of his shirt and he threw up both hands.
“Fucker,” he grunted, instinctively reaching for the glass tumbling to the ground. He caught it right before it hit the tile floor and held it up triumphantly as Sadie the Waitress stared back at him, her mouth an “o” of surprise.
“Oh my God.” Her dark eyes were wide behind her glasses as she held the now empty tray in front of her like a shield. “Holy cow, I’m sooo sorry.” She took the glass and scurried over to put it, and the tray, down onto the bar before rushing back toward him with a white cloth clutched in one hand. “And it had to be a Bloody Mary, of all things,” she muttered under her breath as she swiped ineffectually at the ever-spreading red stain on his soaked chest. “I didn’t even see you there. I mean, it was still my fault, but-”
“Hey.” He laid his hands over hers to hold them still and she froze, craning her neck back to meet his gaze. “It’s all right.”
Her tongue peeked out to sweep over her bottom lip before she looked away again. “But your nice suit-”
“Will get dealt with at the cleaners,” he cut in. “Really, it’s not a problem. Are you all right?” He looked down, letting his gaze trail over the front of her uniform before meeting hers again, suddenly very aware that her hands were still cupped in his. Damn, her skin was soft. “Seems as if my shirt was the only casualty, yeah?”
She nodded, her long, elegant throat working as she swallowed audibly. He could actually see the pulse pounding right under that delicate, creamy skin and he resisted the urge to run his thumb over it.
“I’m fine. I-I need to get back to work.” She tugged her hands from his grasp and offered him a tight smile. “Please, make sure you bring the bill for the cleaners in with you next time you come. We’ll be happy to reimburse you the cost, and I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience.”
Without waiting for a response, she wheeled around and bee-lined for the kitchen, disappearing through the double doors.
He stared at those doors for a long time after they closed behind her, something inside him blazing to life and spreading a warmth through his chest in spite of the chilly liquid bathing it.
He made his way back to the table and took his seat with a quick explanation about his shirt. The men paid him little mind and tucked back into their meals, which was good, because Jake still wasn’t up for idle chatter. He was deep in thought.
What a strange dichotomy, this Sadie. When they’d first arrived, she wouldn’t meet his gaze, her shoulders were sloped, and she kept fidgeting with her little black tie. Later, as he watched her from across the room, she walked with purpose, shoulders back, head held high, like a ballet dancer. She looked confident, proud and extremely efficient.
And now, as she re-entered the dining room, she was back to fidgety again, gaze flitting around in every direction…except his.
Fascinating.
He’d just narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the mop of wet-straw-colored hair, over-sized glasses and ill-fitting uniform to the bones of the woman beneath, when Hannigan elbowed him in the side.
“Did you hear what I said, Callahan?” Hannigan asked, swallowing a piece of pork before leaning in with a leer. “She took out a riding crop. You believe that?”
Jake tore his gaze away from Sadie and faced Alistair, resisting the urge to say no, that he didn’t believe it, or any of the bullshit he’d been shoveling for the past half hour.
Instead, he forced a smile. “Yeah, sounds like a real wild one, there.” He inclined his head like he was impressed and resigned himself to another thirty minutes of this, more irritated than ever at having to listen to Hannigan yammer. He would much rather be spending his time people-watching.
Or rather, person-watching.
Because there was only one person he was interested in learning more about right now, and that was Sadie the Waitress.
Which wouldn't do at all.
He was so close to reaching his goal. Two weeks --maybe three-- before he scaled the last peak and reached the pinnacle that would mark the end of a ten-year quest for his own special brand of justice. Nothing was going to stand in his way now. His entire focus needed to be on Alistair.
Maybe a couple months from now, when it was all said and done, he'd come back to Roberto’s Italian Bistro and find Sadie the Waitress and unravel her secrets…
Chapter Two
Saturday morning, Sadie pulled up to the pick-up lot of St. Vincent’s long-term care facility, a familiar wave of sadness washing over her like it did every time she came. This time, though, between her nerves about the evening ahead and the lack of sleep these past two nights, she almost burst into tears.
Shake it off, kiddo.
All in all, it had been a stellar morning. She’d found ten bucks in the pocket of her jeans, her station wagon --not-so affectionately nicknamed Half-Dead Fred-- had started on the third try, and the rotary clubbers had left all the extras from their banquet the night before at Roberto’s behind, so she and the rest of the staff had gotten to take trays of eggplant rollatini and veal saltimbocca home. She’d packed them into single-sized portions and had enough in the freezer for the whole week.
Hell, it was like frigging Christmas, and here she was blubbering.
She blinked back the tears and peered into the rear-view mirror. Bleary dark eyes stood out in stark relief against her pale cheeks and she grimaced. Clarissa would call her on that shit immediately and start to worry. She rummaged through her purse for some blush and a tube of peach lip gloss, swiping on a hint of both before heading into the sprawling white structure.
She had to give the grounds people credit, the place did look cheery. Wild summer roses splashed the entire front walkway in color and the grass was lush and green. All very inviting, and not at all indicative of what
lay inside.
Lots and lots of sick people.
She breezed through the door to the front desk and, with a deep, shuddering breath, put on a happy face. “Hey Grace,” she chirped to the receptionist on duty.
The older woman looked up, a smile crinkling the corners of her cornflower blue eyes behind a pair of bifocals. “Sadie, how are you? You’re early today,” she said, with a glance at the clock over her shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m taking her out. We’re going to hit the Westchester Mall.”
“Well, you girls have a great day for it.”
She spent another minute chatting with Grace before making her way down the long hallway toward the cancer wing. Pausing outside room 128, she pinched her cheeks and threw her shoulders back. Happy Sadie was in the building.
“Hey Shorty,” she said as she swept into the room.
“Hey yourself,” Clarissa said, the excitement in her blue eyes giving Sadie an emotional boost. She was lying propped up on her bed, but she was already dressed in a pair of yoga pants, a bling-ed out tank top and a pair of stylish black flip-flops. She’d shaved her dark hair off when it started to fall out a couple months before, but it was growing in nicely, and soon she’d be able to rock a trendy pixie cut. A blood pressure cuff encircled her thin upper arm with a pretty, young nurse on the other end of it, who chuckled.
“She’s been ready to go for an hour now. I’m starting to think she’s tired of me.”
Sadie smiled and reassured her. “I’m sure not. She says nothing but lovely things about you all. Did she eat today?”
“I'm sitting right here, asshole,” her younger sister deadpanned. “I’m sick, not deaf.”
“Ah, yes, but you're also a big fat liar,” Sadie countered. “If I ask you, you'll spin me some tales about juicy T-bone steaks and decadent pineapple upside-down cake, and then when I ask the nurse, she'll tell me all you had today was a few swigs of Dr. Pepper and a Twix bar, so forgive me for talking over you.”
Clarissa didn’t bother to look chagrined and shrugged. “Busted. But it's way easier than listening to you lecture me.”
“Wouldn't it just be easier to eat, sis?” She tried to keep the banter up, but she couldn't help the worry that had snuck into her tone.
The doctors had been very clear. If Clarissa didn't start eating, she was going to have to get a feeding tube inserted before they would let her come home, and it would have to stay in place until she got up to a healthier weight. The procedure was neither pleasant, nor cheap.
She would deny her sister nothing, but even with her check from Roberto’s coming this week, if plan A didn’t work out tonight, they'd be in the red again for the fifth straight month. She’d have to consider taking on a last minute side-job, which was the veritable kiss of death. Throwing together something just to get fast cash was a dangerous prospect and left her vulnerable to mistakes.
“If we get arrested, what happens to Clarissa?”
She could almost hear her father's voice in her head like a skipping record. She'd heard it enough growing up. Before her first attempt at three-card monte. After her failed attempt at the shell game. The first time she'd pick-pocketed a woman in Times Square and had gotten caught…
Luck had been on her side that day, though. The woman Sadie had robbed had been a seasoned New Yorker, and didn't bother calling the police. She just took her purse back and shoved ten-year-old Sadie on her ass, hard, muttering, “What the hell is the matter with you?” before stalking off on her towering stilettos at the same breakneck speed as when Sadie had first approached her.
Sixteen years later, she’d learned a lot. Rule number one? Don't try to rob a native New Yorker. It was stupid and dangerous. There were way easier marks out there and it only took a second to find them. People with cameras around their necks. People who either had their eyes glued to the city’s skyline in awe, or glued to the ground because they were intimidated by the crowd. People who left game tickets, wallets or even cash money sticking out of their pockets.
By the time she was twelve, she was like a hungry wolf and Times Square was one big fat partridge, prime for the taking. She was bringing in enough that her Dad could get off the streets and stay home and care for Clarissa full time. He had been so proud of her.
Sadie closed her eyes and let the bittersweet memories melt away, like chocolate in the sun. Dad was gone and there was no one else now. No one to lie and tell her she was doing the right thing. No one to convince her that stealing was okay because the ends justified the means. But that didn’t change the fact that it was her duty to make sure Clarissa was cared for, and nothing would stop her from fulfilling it.
Nothing.
Pushing aside her maudlin thoughts, she sat on the arm of the chair in the corner of the room and chatted with her sister while the nurse took the rest of her vitals. They talked about the Mets and how they didn't have a chance this year, but maybe next. Talked about the restaurant --Clarissa had never been able to work because of her medical issues, so she loved to hear stories about customers making crazy demands, or about the latest fight between Chef Claudio and one of the waitresses.
The whole time they spoke, though, Sadie was raging on the inside, resisting the urge to throw her head back and scream. After all these years, she still couldn’t accept that this one thing was entirely out of her control. No matter what she did, she couldn't make her sister stay well, and that feeling of helplessness threatened to swallow her whole.
But that wouldn't do a thing for Clarissa. The best she could do for her sister was to send her positive vibes and hope this round of treatment would be the one that stuck. According to the doctors, she was cancer free again, but it wasn’t the first time. Sometimes Sadie wondered if the hope wasn’t the cruelest part.
Out of your hands.
Time to focus on what she could do, and that meant getting up enough cash to make sure Clarissa had everything she needed.
“She’s all yours,” the nurse said as she pushed her little medical cart out of the room. “Have fun and try to get her to eat something…anything, while you’re out.”
Sadie snatched up her purse and went to Clarissa’s bedside to help her up, which earned her an eye-roll.
They strolled down the long, sterile hallway arm in arm, Sadie matching pace with her sister. No wonder she didn’t feel like eating. Nothing made a person feel sicker than being in a hospital. Hell, Sadie was hearty as a horse and even she felt flu-like symptoms by the time she left. Maybe it was the smell that did it. All that antiseptic and chrome…it left a metallic taste in her mouth and clung to the inside of her nose. Usually, when she left, she’d make a pit-stop at the coffee shop on the way home just to breathe in the scent of brewing Kona and wash it away. She could only imagine how her sister, who had spent the vast majority of her twenty-four years in and out of hospitals, felt.
Whatever it took, she had to get her sister out of this place and back home as soon as possible.
They climbed into the putty-colored sedan and Sadie said a silent prayer before turning the key. The car coughed but then rumbled to life, and she swallowed a sigh of relief. One more thing to add to the list of pros for the day.
She pulled out of the lot and then steered the vehicle toward the highway. She'd been hemming and hawing about what to wear to this gala event and had planned to wear a knockoff Balenciaga dress she'd seen at a nearby department store, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that knockoff wasn't going to cut it. There were going to be too many important people there and if one of them spotted it, her cover could be blown.
“You excited about your party tonight?” Clarissa asked, once she found a radio station to her liking.
“I was just thinking about that.”
Sadie and her father had always managed to shield Clarissa from their nighttime activities, and although she hated to keep lying to her, her sister had enough to worry about without spending even a second stressing over their financial woes. When he p
assed away, Sadie had created the illusion that he’d left them with a moderate life insurance policy and that, between it and her odd jobs waiting tables or bartending, they were making ends meet.
Whenever she could, though, she peppered her lies with truth. Clarissa knew she was going to a gala in Long Island that evening, but thought she was going as the guest of a handsome, rich date she’d met at the restaurant. In fact, her sister was probably picturing her on the arm of someone like Jake Callahan.
A shiver ran through her and she turned down the air conditioning.
Damn Jake Callahan and that warm, wicked smile of his. It had been at least half the reason she’d spent the past couple nights tossing and turning. She had long since accepted that professions like cat burglar and con artist didn’t lend themselves to a satisfying love life, but lately she’d been feeling lonely and out of sorts. And something about Jake made her feel even lonelier and even more out of sorts. That had left her vulnerable. While she should’ve been busy blending into the woodwork, she’d all but paraded around in front of him, getting up close and personal for way longer than she ever should have.
He’d looked at her. Really looked, like he was stripping away the façade with his penetrating granite-colored eyes.
Not good. But at least she’d never have to see him again.
Somehow the thought gave her far less comfort than it should have.
“Hey, space cadet?” Clarissa snapped her fingers in front of Sadie’s face. “Anyone home?”
She managed a grin and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Sorry, I was trying to think of what kind of dress to get. I want to make sure I fit in.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day then, because I’m here and there’s no way I’m going to let you go out looking stupid.” Clarissa folded one leg under her bottom and tugged the cell phone from her pocket. “I was looking at red carpet styles for the past few days, and I think this long and sheer trend would be so hot on you with those curves.”
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