by K. L. Ramsey
When Viv was seventeen, her Gram dropped the bomb that would forever change Viv’s life—she had cancer and not much time left. Gram had raised Viv since her father took off and her mother died. She was only six years old when the two most important people in her life abandoned her but Gram stuck around. It took time to realized that her grandmother wasn’t going anywhere and when Gram announced that she had terminal cancer, it hit Viv hard. She promised her Gram that she would take care of her beloved diner but that was easier said than done. Her grandmother fought hard but when Viv was twenty, she passed, leaving her to take care of everything—alone. She had never felt so lonely, not even after divorcing Jason. Her grandmother was her everything. Maybe that was why she was willing to overlook all of Jason’s flaws and accept his marriage proposal. Viv believed that being with someone—anyone—was better than being alone. But boy, was she wrong.
Luckily for her, Gram had taught Viv the ropes at a very young age. She had been helping in the diner her whole life and taking over ownership of the place wasn’t a stretch for her. Her grandmother had thought of everything and arranged for her lawyers to handle the transfer upon her death. Viv showed up to work the day after the funeral and opened the doors for business, much as she always had. It’s what her grandmother wanted and she honored her wishes. Gram insisted that she get on with her life as quickly as possible and Viv promised to try. Throwing herself back into her work seemed as good a way as any to get on with life.
“Hey, new guy,” she shouted. The trainee turned from trying to shove way too many napkins into the holder and pointed to himself as if to ask, “Me?”. Viv sighed and nodded. “Do you see any other new guys around?” she asked. Sure, she sounded like a class A bitch but she didn’t care.
“N-no,” he stuttered.
“You wait tables on your own yet?” she asked but Viv already knew the answer by his blank stare. “All right then,” she said under her breath. “Today you learn to wait tables on your own. It’s sink or swim time, New Guy,” she said.
“Um, my name is Tommy,” he nervously offered.
“Of course it is,” she whispered to herself. “Okay, Tommy,” she said, turning to hand him an order pad and pencil. “You write everything down. If someone says to hold the onions, write the letter O down next to the order and then cross it out,” she said. Tommy nodded and started jotting down notes as she went over everything and she couldn’t help her smile at remembering the way Gram used to ride her for not using the correct codes for the kitchen.
Viv had taken to abbreviating everything and when her order went back to the cook, he had no freaking idea what the hell to make of it. Gram told her to get it straight or she’d have to deal with the pissed off kitchen staff. After she was yelled at a few times by the cook, Viv learned quickly to avoid his temper and write the correct fucking codes down on her order pad.
“Get the codes right or deal with the cook,” she barked at Tommy. He nodded and started to write down her orders, word for word and she sighed again. “This is going to be a long fucking day,” she breathed.
Viv busied herself getting the diner ready to open and didn’t even see the wall of man that she ran into while making her way to the back storeroom. “What the fuck?” Viv growled, taking a step back to get her bearings. The guy's big, tattoo-covered hands quickly reached out to her, helping her to find her balance.
“Who are you and how the fuck did you get in here before we’re open?” Viv asked. She looked him up and down and realized that most of his exposed skin was covered in ink and she had to admit, it was hot. She had always liked bad boys even if she had married a clean-cut accountant the first time around. Her grandmother used to say, “If he rides a motorcycle or has tattoos, my granddaughter will date him.” She wondered what her Gram would think of the sexy man standing in front of her now. His light brown hair was long and wavy, hanging down to his broad shoulders. Honestly, he had better hair than she did and she was suddenly regretting her decision to go a third day without washing it, opting for a messy bun. He looked like he worked out but not the way the muscle heads at the gym did. This guy looked more naturally fit but his muscles seemed to have muscles. His amused smirk told her he wasn’t buying her tough girl routine either.
“I’m here for breakfast,” he said and his voice sounded like a warm brandy coating her soul.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Viv asked.
He chuckled, “Nope,” he said. “Although I call the fair state of Alabama my home now, I’m originally from Ireland.”
Dear Lord, Viv felt about ready to burst into flames just from his sexy voice alone. His accent made it harder for her to concentrate on what her next question or comment should be. Hell, she was pretty sure that remembering her name might be a task.
“Can I get some food?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
“Food?” she repeated as though she didn’t understand the word.
“Sure—you know, stuff you eat. Listen, I have a busy day and I just need to fuel up.” Viv looked down at her watch and back up at the sexy, tatted man before her. He took off his black leather jacket and flung it over his shoulder, giving her a better look at not only his tattoos but his muscles. And, holy arm porn—he was hot!
“Fine,” she said, trying for a little pissed off but sounding a whole lot more turned on. Shit!
“I’ll just sit here at the counter if that works,” he offered. She didn’t say a word, not sure that anything she uttered would make any sense. Viv just stood there nodding like a fool and watched as he walked past her to find a stool at the front counter. She nearly swallowed her tongue at how good his ass looked in the black jeans that hugged him like a glove. She shook her head as if trying to regain her senses.
“New guy,” she barked. “You’re up.”
“Tommy,” he called from the corner of the diner. “My name is Tommy,” he complained.
“Yeah, yeah. Tommy—you’re up,” Viv corrected and didn’t miss the way hot biker guy laughed.
“Keep laughing,” she warned. “Tommy here is in training and you’re his first real customer,” she said not hiding her smile. “Good luck to you, Sir,” she said and turned to finish her work in the back storeroom. She needed to take a quick inventory for the day, especially since her now ex-employee fed her friends as though it was her personal pantry. She’d call in her order and then find the time to post a new ad in the local paper.
By the time she finished her inventory, New Guy had not only brought Hot Irish Guy his food but they were chatting it up like they were old friends. “Don’t you have something you could be doing?” Viv looked Tommy up and down and took a sadistic pleasure in the way he hopped out of her way and pretended to be busy.
“Sure, boss,” he said. Viv pulled the sugar shakers from the counter underneath the bar and started to refill them. “Oh, Tina said to tell you she had to leave for the day. Something about a family emergency,” Tommy said. He shot her a look that suggested he should be afraid to deliver the message and New Guy was right. She felt about ready to lob a sugar shaker at his head but that would only involve paperwork and workman’s comp. claims she didn’t have time for.
“Great,” she mumbled. “That girl has more family emergencies that anyone else I’ve ever met. Just how big is her family anyway?” Viv complained to herself.
Hot Irish guy seemed to find her whole monologue funny. “So, you’re employees giving you trouble?” he questioned. He shoved four pieces of bacon and half a piece of toast into his mouth.
“Trouble doesn’t begin to describe what they are causing me today—or any other day, for that matter,” she admitted. “I just fired Tina’s best friend for feeding half the town for free and now she takes off with her same old tired excuse. It’s just me and the New Kid,” she said, nodding to where Tommy was still fumbling with the napkin dispensers.
Hot Irish guy cleared his throat, “I might be able to help with your troubles,” he said. God, Viv thought of abou
t a thousand ways that man could help with her problems and not one of them involved what he was probably about to propose. “Hire me,” he said, holding his arms wide as if he was making a sacrifice to her.
“What are your qualifications, Hot Irish Guy?” she asked.
“Hot Irish Guy?” he questioned her nickname for him. Honestly, she was awful at names, so she usually made up her own for people.
Viv shrugged, “Well, it’s accurate,” she said. She put down the sugar shaker she was working on and studied him. “Really, why would you want to work here? I usually get high schoolers coming in here to ask me for a job, but you look to be well out of the public school system.”
He threw back his head and barked out his laugh and it was probably the sexiest thing Viv had ever seen in her life. “Yeah, I’m well past school age, Darlin’,” he admitted. “I’m just turned thirty-three.” Now it was Viv’s turn to laugh. He sounded as though he was saying “tirty-tree”.
“Yeah, yeah—go ahead and may fun of the way I say my th’s; everyone does.” He shot her a sexy smirk that had Viv immediately stop laughing. This guy seemed to be able to take the whole smolder thing to a whole new level.
“My question stands,” she said. “Why do you want to work here?”
He shrugged and pushed his empty plate to the back of the counter, leaning forward as if he was about to share a secret with her. Viv did the same, eager to share the same space as the sexy guy. “I’m a felon,” he loudly whispered.
She didn’t even blink an eye. She had known a few ex-cons in her life. Her grandmother even dated one for a few years until he got bored and took off. So, Hot Irish Guy’s grand admission didn’t shock her. “And incapable of whispering,” Viv teased.
“You don’t seem surprised.” He sounded almost disappointed in the fact that he didn’t surprise her.
“Let’s just say that my grandmother sometimes ran with a questionable crowd and I’ve known all kinds,” she said. “So you want a job here because you’re a felon? You look other places?” Viv knew she was sticking her nose into a stranger’s business but she couldn’t help herself. Plus, if he wanted her to consider him for employment, she had a right to ask questions. Although, she was pretty sure that the question she wanted to ask was completely inappropriate. His relationship status didn’t factor into whether she would hire him or not.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve put into just about every place on Main Street who’s hiring and nothing. I have to fill out their applications and when I get to the part where I have to answer ‘yes’ for convicted of a felony, it’s over. No one wants to hire an ex-con.” Viv hated that he seemed almost defeated and whether right or wrong, she wanted to help him.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Grand theft auto,” he answered. “I was a stupid kid—just trying to get into a motorcycle gang. My family had just gone back to Ireland and left me in America and I didn’t exactly fit in.” Viv giggled at the thought of an Irish kid trying to fit in with the kids around town. Kids in their little Alabama town were tough when it came to accepting anyone new into the fold. Given the fact that he sounded so different from them, Hot Irish Guy might have never found his place.
“I got about eight hundred meters before the cops caught up to me. I found out later that the guys in the gang I was trying to join set me up. I was made an example of by the system and served ten years of a twelve-year sentence.”
“Wow, that’s awful,” Viv said and she meant it. What happened to him sucked and not giving him a chance to turn himself around would be a dishonor to her Gram. He was just the type of person her grandmother was constantly trying to help. And, now it was Viv’s turn to lend a hand. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Hot Irish Guy was—well, hot.
“I have two questions,” Viv said.
“Shoot,” he said, leaning back in his stool.
“Can you cook and when can you start?” His smile almost lit up the place and she knew she did the right thing even if New Kid was shooting her daggers from the back of the diner.
“What’s the problem, New Kid?” she asked.
“He’s not going to outrank me, right?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’s even possible, New Kid,” Viv said, rolling her eyes for good measure. “Now back to work and stop eavesdropping.” She watched as Tommy pretended to wipe down the booth he had been working on for the past ten minutes.
“How about we take this to my office and you can fill out the paperwork?” Hot Irish Guy nodded and grabbed his dishes.
“Thank you,” he said, following her back through the kitchen to deposit his dishes into the sink. He followed her back to her tiny office and crammed into her space, making it feel even smaller.
“Um—” she squeaked, suddenly feeling nervous. “I guess you should tell me your name—unless you’re good with Hot Irish Guy.”
He chuckled and his deep baritone laugh filled her office. “It’s Cillian James but everyone calls me Kill,” he said.
“Kill?” Viv questioned. “That’s a pretty ominous name. You have anything else you need to tell me before we make this official?” She asked.
“Nope,” he said, taking the papers from her. “I’m good.”
CILLIAN
Kill watched the sexy little brunette fidget around her office as if she was too afraid to leave him alone in her space. He didn’t blame her. There were a lot of people who didn’t trust him and he’d just add her onto that very long list.
He finished filling out the paperwork and realized he didn’t know his new boss’ name. “Sorry,” he said, startling her from her work. “I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Vivian Ward,” she offered. “Usually, the kids who work for me just call me boss but you can call me Viv.” He stood and held out his hand and she hesitantly took it.
“It’s good to meet you, Viv,” he said. “You won’t be sorry you gave me a chance here.”
“I don’t know.” Kill worried that she had already changed her mind and he set the papers down on her desk. “With a nickname like ‘Kill’, I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew.” The thought of his hot new boss biting anywhere on his body flashed through his mind. He needed to remind his unruly cock that wasn’t going to happen—not with her now that he was her employee. At least, he hoped he was still employed.
“Listen, if you’re having second thoughts, I understand,” he lied. He didn’t understand any of what he had been put through this past week since getting out of prison. He had been treated like shit and all he was asking for was a chance to prove that he wasn’t that same stupid kid who desperately wanted to be a part of something.
“How about you tell me how you got your nickname and I’ll reserve my final decision until you are done sharing your story?” He hated having to recap any of his time in prison but if that was the only way he was going to get a job, he’d do it. Still, it felt wrong telling someone who seemed as innocent as Vivian Ward about something so personal and dirty from his past.
“I got it from my cellmate, in prison,” he whispered. “I was thrown into general population and I had to survive.”
Viv gasped and covered her mouth with her shaking hand. He almost regretted telling her anything. “And you had to kill someone to stay alive?” she guessed.
“Yes and no,” he admitted. “I didn’t kill anyone but everyone believed that I had, so I let them think the worst of me.”
“Why would you let them believe you killed a man?” Viv asked. He didn’t expect her to understand. Prison changed a person and when you were in there, you learned to do whatever it took to make it out alive.
“We were in the yard—you know having some free time and I was approached by a man they called Capone who was in charge, so to speak, of the prisoners. He had ties to the mafia and was from a rival club on the outside. Even though I had been thrown in prison before becoming a member of the Dragons, he considered me an enemy.”
“Why didn’t y
ou tell anyone?” she asked. He chuckled at the idea of telling someone what was going on in that yard. Hell, he’d be labeled a snitch and they got a hell of a lot more than stitches in that prison. They ended up in the infirmary if they were lucky and in the morgue if they weren’t.
“Who was I to tell? If I reported every illegal activity going on in that place to the warden, I’d end up in the morgue. I tried to talk to some of the gang members—you know the ones who set me up? Like my new friend, Capone, they didn’t consider me to be a part of their club. They had heard what happened to me on the outside and told me I was on my own.”
“What happened next?” Viv asked. She sat in front of him, on the edge of her desk and it took all his restraint not to reach out and pull her onto his lap. Feck, she was sexy and he was going to have to work damn hard to remind himself that she was off-limits. He had to admit the way she seemed to take an interest in him turned him inside out. It had been over ten years since he was with a woman. Hell, he’d been out for a week and the first thing he wanted to do was find a willing woman and spend a night losing himself in her, but he didn’t. That would have been his way of falling back into his old habits and he couldn’t let that happen. It was the strait and narrow for him and that meant no gangs, no drugs, and no hookers, no matter how much his dick screamed for attention.
“When Capone heard that I was on my own, left for dead by my own supposed club, he did something that completely surprised me—asked me to join his prison club. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking him up on his offer. When the rival gang came after him for taking me in, a guy got killed. Capone was the one who shanked him but gave me the credit. He knew that with a rumor like that going around, that I killed a guy, I’d be safe while serving my time. Capone took the blame and had time added onto his sentence and I got the nickname ‘Kill’,” he said.
“Wow,” she breathed.
