Patrick.
Her heart raced and her hands got clammy. Avoiding his gaze, she headed toward the dining room. “Darcy?” Patrick called. “Hold on a minute.”
As he got closer, his bright blue eyes scanned her, as if he were committing her face to memory. “I’m Patrick. We met at Frankie’s engagement party.”
“Right. Hi, Patrick.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “How’s Nathan doing today?”
“Cranky. Always a good sign.”
She managed to smile, although her face felt as if it would crack. “It is.”
His gaze lingered on her short, layered hair, and she smoothed it back self-consciously. Were her blond roots showing? “Let’s go in the other room where it isn’t so noisy,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
She froze for a moment as he held the swinging door open, then forced her legs to move. Her heart racing, her palms sweating, she wondered what he wanted. Why he wanted to talk to her.
“Hey, Marco,” Patrick said with a wave as he followed her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and offered her one. When she shook her head, he led the way to a table in the corner opposite the one where the other waitresses and Marco still sat.
“Nathan told me you’re organized and smart, and you pay attention to everything. I’m throwing myself on your mercy, because I’m going to need your help.”
“With what?” The end of the red-checked tablecloth lay on her lap, and she pleated it with fingers that shook.
“Running Mama’s Place. I worked here years ago, but I was just a kid. All I had to do was clear tables and wash dishes. I didn’t have to actually think about the business.”
“You’re running the restaurant?” Darcy swallowed. “Marco said Frankie was doing it.”
“She offered, but Frankie has her plate full right now. She’s expanding her teen center, some kid she knows is about to have a baby, and she and Cal are planning their wedding.” He shook his head. “Those two could be a commercial for the Lifetime channel, and I don’t have the stomach to watch it.”
“How...romantic.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Darcy closed her fist around the tablecloth. Had she really said that?
She was too used to joking around with Nathan and Marco.
One side of his mouth curled up. “Nathan said you had a mouth on you.” He studied her assessingly. “You have something going with him?”
“With Nathan? Nah! He’s like a brother. Marco, too.” Heat crept up her face and she cleared her throat. “Why?”
“I like to connect all the dots. Put the pieces together, see how they fit.” He shrugged.
“I work for your brothers. It would be stupid to get involved with either of them.”
“Lot of stupidity going around.”
“Not here. Not me.” When she’d started at Mama’s Place, she’d been too on edge to pay attention to anyone. By the time she’d relaxed a little, been able to take a deep breath, Nathan and Marco were the guys she worked for. Joked around with. Friends. They’d never be more.
“Focused on your job?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Yep.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind helping me out. Nathan said you’ve been working four nights a week. Would you be able to take on a fifth?”
She volunteered at the women’s shelter on her nights off. “Maybe. I’ll check.”
“We really need you, Darcy.”
She knew that. But the women needed her, too. “I’ll let you know.”
His gaze sharpened. “You have another job?”
“No, other commitments.” She should tell him what she was doing, but keeping secrets had become second nature.
“Okay. Can you run me through a typical night? Tell me what Nathan does?”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Patrick stood at the podium by the door, watching a smiling Darcy chat with a table of two couples. There were several people waiting to be seated, the bartender was mixing drinks as fast as he could and was still behind, and the busboy was moving too slowly.
Finally a table was ready, and Patrick called the next name on the waiting list. He smiled as he seated the group of four and told them their waitress would be right over.
On the way back to the podium, he helped the busboy clear another table, then seated the next group on the list.
Patrick had a million other things to think about tonight. But he found himself looking for Darcy again. Just like he’d done too many times this evening.
Which was stupid. But he’d thought about her, off and on, since Frankie’s engagement party. He hadn’t been able to stop watching her that night, either.
She was short and slender, but she had curves in all the right places. That dark red hair of hers had glowed as she glided from table to table, and her low laugh had made him shiver. She’d made everyone feel included. Welcome. He’d watched her and wanted what she had.
Nathan had noticed him watching.
After getting in a couple of older-brother digs, Nathan had warned him to back off. To forget about Darcy. He’d told Patrick exactly how he’d kick his baby brother’s ass if said brother hit on his best waitress. No way was Patrick going back to Detroit, leaving Nathan to deal with the fallout.
Patrick had backed off. But he hadn’t forgotten about Darcy.
Now he was watching her again. And wondering.
Darcy joked with the customers, teased Marco, laughed with the other waitresses. She even spoke enough Spanish to make the cooks and dishwashers smile.
She was friendly and warm with everyone.
Except him.
After pausing for a moment at another table, she hurried past the podium and didn’t meet his gaze.
With him, she was cautious. Careful. She’d made the joke about him not being romantic, but she’d immediately reined herself in.
Why did Darcy treat him differently than everyone else?
CHAPTER TWO
PATRICK TURNED THE lock as the last guest left, then took a deep breath. He’d had no idea how hard Nathan worked every night.
And they weren’t done. Now they had to clean.
Marco was in the kitchen, helping to scrub it down. Two waitresses grabbed trays and began to pick up the dishes of freshly grated Parmesan cheese on each table. The other two wiped down the salt and pepper shakers. They worked methodically, chatting with each other as they moved from one table to the next.
It was a well-oiled machine, and Patrick wasn’t part of it. He shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze going first to the kitchen, then to the waitresses.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darcy head for the patio. Carol had set up the tables before he could stop her, but no one had been seated out there. The staff needed a little distance from the accident before that happened. Now the table settings had to be collected.
Darcy carried a silver bus tray, and it wobbled a little as she opened the door.
He hurried after her. She stood in the doorway, drawing a deep breath, her shoulders stiffening.
“Darcy, why don’t you clean the front room tonight?”
When she glanced back at him, her eyes were dilated. Almost completely black. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I can see that.” He tugged the tray out of her hands, and she resisted for a moment. Finally she let it go.
“What are you trying to prove?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m doing my job.”
“Tonight, your job is in a different part of the restaurant.” He held tightly to the tray as she tried to take it. “I’ve got the patio.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m afraid to go out there?”
Yes. “You saw Nathan get hit by a car. Anyone would be shaken up.
” But shaken up was different than afraid.
She stared at the dark cluster of tables, faintly illuminated by the lanterns strung above them. “He pushed me out of the way,” she said, so softly Patrick barely heard her. “That’s why he was hit.”
“You think he should have stood there and watched you get pancaked?”
“He wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”
“How long have you been working here?”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed her sudden tension. She swallowed once, staring into the darkness. “Three years.”
“So you know Nathan pretty well. You know that’s who he is—the guy who saves babies and kittens.” The guy who sacrificed his future to keep his family together. The guy who hadn’t blamed his brother for killing his parents. “And women who work for him.”
She let go of the tray. “Fine. You can clean it.” She hurried past, being careful not to touch him. He watched her veer toward a corner of the front room and grab another tray. Her movements were jerky as she picked up the salt and pepper shakers and a stray ketchup bottle. They nearly slid off as she moved to the next table.
He made Darcy nervous.
He wondered why.
* * *
AS PATRICK WAS tucking the cash into the bank bag, Marco grabbed a bottle of wine from beneath the bar. He headed toward the family table, where a couple of the line cooks and most of the waitresses were sitting. The cooks had a beer, Ashley had a soda. Someone laughed as Marco twisted the corkscrew. Phyllis set five wineglasses on the table.
It looked like they’d done this before.
“One for you, Paddy?” Marco called.
“Sure.” Wine would be good.
His back hurt, his legs were cramping and his head ached from everything he had to remember. How the hell was he going to handle this for six weeks?
His face burned with shame as he tucked the money bag into the small safe beneath the bar. Nathan had been doing this since he was twenty-two years old. Along with raising Patrick, Frankie and Marco. And Patrick was complaining about six lousy weeks.
He had cases pending in Detroit. Obligations. A life of his own. A life he wanted to get back to.
Nathan had given up his dreams when he took over Mama’s, and starting tonight, Patrick would suck it up and do the best job he could.
When he finally went back to his life in Detroit, he’d know he’d paid a small part of the debt he owed his brother.
He walked over to the table and picked up one of the two unclaimed glasses of wine. As he took a sip, he didn’t realize he was looking for her until he saw she wasn’t there.
“Darcy already gone?” he asked casually.
“She’s putting away the cheese,” Phyllis said.
“She always sticks around,” Marco added. He took a drink of his wine, then stuck his head into the kitchen. “Your wine’s getting cold, Darce.”
“Thanks, Marco, but I’m not staying tonight,” she called.
“Okay. Be right there.” Marco returned to the table, set his glass down and headed toward the kitchen.
Patrick must have look puzzled, because one of the waitresses explained, “Marco or Nathan always walk Darcy to her car.”
Without thinking, Patrick stood up. “Hey, Marco. I’ll walk her out tonight.”
His brother was halfway through the kitchen door, but he stopped. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Go sit down.”
Darcy stood waiting at the back door. When she saw him, she fumbled it open. “Good night, Patrick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hold on. I’ll walk you out.”
She flashed a strained smile as she reached into her purse. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
He caught the door before it closed, propped it open and followed her into the dark parking area behind the restaurant. No wonder Nate or Marco accompanied her out. They needed to get some security lights out here. Motion sensitive, maybe. And they should trim those bushes.
He sighed. It was hard to turn off the cop in his head. He caught up with Darcy, who was hurrying toward a small group of cars.
“What’s the rush?” he said as he reached her.
“I don’t want to keep you. It’s been a long night.”
“Marco said you usually stay for wine afterward.”
“Not tonight.” She pulled her hand out of her bag, and her keys were clenched in her fist, the ends pointing out between her fingers. A technique taught in every self-defense class.
Wildwood was safe. Boring. Low crime rate.
So why did Darcy need an escort? She might still be on edge about Nathan’s accident, but Marco had said they always walked her to her car. Why not all the women?
She dropped a small cylinder into her bag, and his eyebrows rose. He was almost certain it was pepper spray.
“How come you’re running off?” he asked.
“Is socializing part of my job description?”
“Of course not. But why rush off tonight?”
“I have things to do.” She inserted her key into the lock of an older model foreign compact. “Thank you, Patrick. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
She tugged the door, and he let it go. It slammed with a solid thunk, and she backed out of the parking lot. He watched her taillights disappear down the street.
* * *
PATRICK WAS AN FBI agent. Protective. That’s why he’d walked her out instead of Marco.
Everyone was still on edge after the accident.
Darcy tossed her purse onto a kitchen chair, where it landed with a thud. She gripped the pepper spray as Cat twined around her ankles, asking for his dinner. “In a minute,” she murmured
She waited until her hands were steady again, then searched all four rooms in the small apartment. She looked under the bed, in the closets, behind the shower curtain. Finally sure she was alone, she double-checked the lock on the door and all the windows. Only then did she open a can of food and scrape it into Cat’s bowl.
She toed off her shoes and sank wearily onto a chair. “What am I going to do?” she asked. The cat moved one ear and continued eating. “Every time I looked at him, he was watching me.” Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.
She pushed to her feet, headed into the living room and twitched the curtain to one side. She recognized most of the cars parked on the street. Three dark sedans were unfamiliar.
She studied them until she was sure they were empty, then went back to the kitchen.
Nothing in her alley had looked out of place. She’d checked.
Lately, she’d paced her apartment during the night. Peered out the window too many times. She’d been jumpy ever since Nathan was injured.
By a drunken driver. Hit-and-run. That’s all.
But she remembered the way a car had illuminated her minutes before the accident. The way it had slowed for a moment, then sped up again.
Had that car come back for her?
She sank into a chair and watched Cat eat. When he finished, he cleaned his face, then jumped into her lap. He draped himself over her legs, purring, and she stroked him with trembling fingers as she stared out the window into the darkness.
A smart woman would have packed her stuff and disappeared the night Nathan was hit. A smart woman wouldn’t have hung around, wondering if Tim had found her.
But the women’s shelter counted on her. And Theresa was beginning to trust her. Sooner or later, she’d let Darcy take her to that shelter.
Her fingers tightened in Cat’s fur, and he yowled and jumped to the floor.
“Sorry, guy,” she crooned, bending to pet him. “It was an accident.” Just like what happened to Nathan.
Cat gave her a suspicious look as he groomed himself
. Finally he wandered away. Darcy slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for her bedroom. She stopped in the bathroom to brush her teeth, then set the purse next to her bed, pulled out her gun and put it on the night table, undressed and climbed beneath the sheets.
She dreamed of a dark sedan racing toward her. This time, though, she saw the driver clearly.
This time, Nathan wasn’t around to save her.
* * *
DARCY WAS HALFWAY through her five-mile run the next morning when she heard footsteps behind her. Another runner, coming up on her right.
The footsteps weren’t alarming. A lot of people in this neighborhood ran in the morning. After three years, she recognized most of them. Usually exchanged a nod or a “morning” as she let them pass her.
Today, as she slowed, so did the person behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, but couldn’t see him clearly. The man ran on the other side of the street, in the deep shade of the trees that lined the parkway. He wore a ball cap and his head was bent as he fiddled with the iPod on his arm.
He was tall. Lean but muscular, if the six-pack abs outlined by his sweaty gray T-shirt were any indication. He ran smoothly and apparently effortlessly, as if he could go for miles.
She stumbled on a small pothole and turned her attention back to where she was going. Her heart pumped harder, her lungs ached as she pulled in more air. The man behind her fell into the same rhythm, neither drawing closer nor falling behind.
She slowed a little more. So did he.
Her heart began to race. The spurt of adrenaline made her muscles coil tightly, her legs move more quickly.
She looked left, then right. At seven in the morning, most of the houses had lights on. But no one was walking to the train or backing out of their driveway.
Her heartbeat echoing in her ears, she turned right at the next corner. Toward downtown Wildwood, where there would be more people. More activity.
Farther from her apartment.
As she rounded the corner, she let herself look at him again. The visor of his cap was pulled low. Golden light filtered through the trees, with their orange and yellow leaves, and reflected off his barely visible sunglasses. He was too far away for her to recognize him, but she stared anyway. To let him know she was watching.
The Woman He Knows Page 2
