“I’m all right. Sometimes he breaks my heart. He’s in a lot of pain, and I can’t take it away.”
Savage saw a lot, and he seemed to have a really good bullshit meter. She had to be careful to be truthful, even though that wasn’t the only reason she had cried.
He stepped close to her but didn’t touch her. Those piercing blue eyes of his could chill her to the bone. They could also see far too much.
“We’re used to pain, Zyah. He’s going to get through this.”
She nodded. “Thanks for being so good to Mama Anat. She really hates being confined to her bed. She can’t get from the bed to the chair, and she said you put her in the chair yesterday so she was able to move around a little bit. That meant so much to her.”
He shrugged, drawing back into the shadows. “It was no big thing. She wanted to make cookies and some other kinds of baked goods and needed to get into the kitchen. She’s a little thing, so it was easy enough.”
Zyah’s eyebrow shot up. “She baked? With her broken arm?” Her grandmother hadn’t said a word about baking. There hadn’t been any baked goods in the house. Not one single cookie when she came home.
Savage was silent for a moment. Too long of a moment. She tipped her head back and moved closer to the shadows so she could see him, not letting him disappear. “She had you baking those cookies, didn’t she?” Her grandmother could get anyone to do anything. She was pure magic. “She talked you into letting her walk you through the recipe, didn’t she?”
Savage had one hip against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her coolly. He didn’t answer, just kept looking at her like he might do her in if she persisted in the conversation. Zyah didn’t know whether she could keep a straight face or whether she should even bother trying.
“I’ll bet you had flour all over you,” she taunted.
He didn’t blink. He just continued to stare at her.
She grinned at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Did she make you wear an apron? She does that because she doesn’t like a mess in her kitchen.”
Savage didn’t so much as change expression. As opponents went, he was good. Really good. Zyah could imagine her grandmother having great fun with him. There was no sound to warn her, but she knew they weren’t alone in the hallway. Her neck hairs tingled, giving her a warning prickle. That had to be another member of Torpedo Ink, or Savage would have reacted. Savage and Destroyer were usually the two partners, so she took a stab at it.
“She has frilly aprons. You could have worn the one with the sunflowers and Destroyer the one with the bluebonnets all over it. You would have looked so cute, especially if you got flour all over the aprons. I’ll have to ask Mama Anat if she happened to get pictures of you both. She loves to use the camera on her cell phone.”
Mama Anat loved to use the camera, but more often than not, she had it pointed in the opposite direction or up at the ceiling or down at the floor.
Destroyer stepped around her. “This woman is trying to blackmail us with damaging photographs, Savage?”
“There’s no proof,” Savage denied.
“There’s proof,” Zyah said.
“Anat had the camera pointed toward herself,” Savage said in his perfectly expressionless tone.
Zyah laughed quietly, always cognizant of Player asleep in the other room. She didn’t want to wake him. It was so like her beloved grandmother to have her cell phone out and recording and the camera pointed in the wrong direction. But it also proved Zyah was right and Savage and Destroyer had baked cookies because Anat had asked them to. She would have given anything to see the two men following her grandmother’s instructions.
“I knew you baked those cookies for her.”
“What cookies?” Savage asked. “There aren’t any cookies.”
“Because you and Destroyer ate them all,” Zyah accused. “I know darn well you did. Anat will try to cover for you, but she can’t lie worth a darn.”
“Go to bed,” Savage ordered. “You have to work in the morning. You’ve worked on Player half the night already.”
For the first time there was a hint of gratitude in his voice. Just a hint. Along with respect. Neither Savagen nor Destroyer gave much away, but that didn’t matter to her. She always knew her grandmother was safe when they were watching over her. Now she knew they were pushovers just like everyone else around Anat. That really endeared them to her. She lifted a hand to both men and made her way to the next room, where she closed the door quietly and just let herself fall facedown onto the bed. She really was that tired.
“Seriously, Zyah, you should stop by the restaurant before you go home,” Alena encouraged. “The boys are with your grandmother. It isn’t like she’s alone there.”
She was draped at the end of the counter looking beautiful as only Alena could look in her casual blue jeans, tank and Torpedo Ink jacket. She didn’t seem to notice the looks she got from the other customers as Zyah rang up their groceries, but Zyah did, and she had to hide her smile. Just the mere mention of “the boys” had the women’s rapt attention, and Alena’s good looks had the men’s.
Zyah was a little shocked that it wasn’t her grandmother she was the most concerned about. She knew Anat was safe with Torpedo Ink looking out for her. It was Player. She was worried that if he suddenly had one of his really bad episodes and she wasn’t there, he could really hurt himself— or someone else. He mostly had them in the middle of the night. That was when the pain seemed to worsen. Or he couldn’t stay on top of the pain because he was asleep and his past was too close. Whatever the reason, she felt like she needed to be there for him.
“I could stop by for a few minutes, Alena, but not for long,” she agreed. “Even if I call her and tell her I’m going to be late, Mama Anat gets nervous if I don’t come right home.”
She finished ringing up her customer and greeted the next one. She was a little dismayed to see it was Perry Randall. He was dividing his attention between Zyah and Alena, trying to decide who to bestow his brilliant white smile on. Zyah expected his teeth to have a white star with a little ringtone dinging when he finally flashed her the polished smile.
“Zyah.” He said her name as if they were old friends. Instead of letting her pick up the bottle of water, he handed it to her to scan but then held on to it so he could look deep into her eyes. “You really need to reconsider and go out on a date with me.”
Alena straightened slowly, drawing his attention. The bottle of water slipped from his nerveless fingers straight into Zyah’s hand. She took advantage and rang the bottle up fast. It was just that Alena had been so artfully draped over the counter. Any man with eyes had to watch that slow-motion undulation of womanly curves. Zyah nearly burst out laughing but refrained as she waited for Perry to recover.
“That’s impossible, Perry,” Alena said. “Her man would get very upset with you. Trespassing on Torpedo Ink property can get you in big trouble.” She gave Zyah a slow, lazy wink, ignoring the collective gasp from the various women standing in line behind Perry. “I’ll see you at the restaurant tonight, then, Zyah.”
Zyah gave her a small wave, shook her head and began checking out the next person. Perry barely shuffled forward a few steps to stare after Alena while she sauntered across the street to stop in front of the store directly across from the grocery. She stood there talking to Lana, the sun shining down on the two heads.
“Perry, can you move forward so I can keep working?” Zyah asked.
Perry didn’t respond; he just kept staring at the two women across the street as if mesmerized.
Zyah rang up Mrs. Darden’s items. She was next in line, and luckily, she didn’t have many groceries. She was with another woman who looked very much like her. They exchanged rueful looks. Still, as Zyah put the items in the women’s totes, they were trapped behind the counter. There was a line behind them and Perry in front of them.
“This is my sister, Jane,” Mrs. Darden said. “She lives here in Caspar.”
Zyah flashed her bri
ghtest, most welcoming smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jane.”
Jane gave her a shy smile back. “I’m so thankful that the grocery store opened here in Caspar. Marie told me it would, but I knew Inez wouldn’t keep it open if she didn’t find someone she really trusted to run it for her. It can be difficult to get into Sea Haven for groceries. I know it isn’t that far, but I walk, and it’s much too far to walk.”
“When we get up and running, I’ll have to think about adding a delivery service,” Zyah said. “That might be helpful.”
“Oh, yes,” Jane agreed, “especially when it’s storming.”
There were murmurings as the line became impatient.
“Perry, you really have to move,” Zyah said, raising her voice slightly.
Perry glanced at her and then turned his attention back to the window, ignoring her and the fact that he was holding everyone up.
Mrs. Marie Darden was a very sweet woman, but she didn’t have much patience. When Perry continued to stand in her way, staring at the empty street, she whacked him with a rolled-up magazine. “Move, young man. You’re being incredibly rude. That’s stalker mentality.”
Perry whirled around, glaring. “You old biddy.” He took a step toward her to close the gap between them, raising his fist. Zyah jumped onto the counter, trying to get across it so she could put herself between the man and the older woman.
“You touch that woman and you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor.” The voice was ice-cold. Menacing. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind the speaker meant what he said.
Zyah, sitting on the counter, looked up to see that Keys had come from the back room. He was staring at Perry Randall, ignoring the older women. “You put one hand on her and I’ll take you apart.”
“You touch me and you’ll go to jail,” Perry threatened, but he didn’t make another move toward Mrs. Darden.
“There are good reasons to go to jail. I’ve got no problem going if I smash your teeth down your throat because you touched her. Get the fuck out of this store and stay out.”
“You can’t tell me to get out.”
“Zyah?” Keys said, without looking at her.
“Perry, get out before I call the police,” Zyah said, sliding back to the other side of the counter. “Don’t come back. You don’t get to threaten my customers.”
Randall scowled at Mrs. Darden and then Zyah before stalking out. Applause broke out, which Keys ignored as he went back down the aisle to disappear into the back.
“Are you all right?” Zyah asked Marie Darden as she began ringing up the next customer in line.
“Yes, of course. That young man became that way because his parents taught him that he was entitled. He never had to take responsibility for anything he did. When he was a young boy he was spoiled beyond belief. He used to pull up Jack’s flowers and laugh. His parents would act like it was Jack’s fault. Such an obnoxious family.”
“They’re getting a little bit of that back now,” Beatrice Golden said. She was a woman who lived in Caspar, and Zyah had met her the very first day she had come to work. “Their son refuses to help them at all. He doesn’t work, you know. He lives off his trust fund. He lies around their guesthouse all day smoking pot. If they ask him for anything, he won’t do it for them.”
“How sad,” Zyah said. “One would think he would at least have some respect for his parents.” She put the groceries in Beatrice’s tote.
Beatrice moved to one side along with Marie and Jane Darden to allow the next customer access to the space so Zyah could ring her up. Apparently, they were all going to continue talking.
“That young man, what was his name, that rescued Marie?” Chiffon, her next customer, asked. She was all of seventy but kept sending little glances toward the back of the store.
“Keys. He’s Torpedo Ink. He was helping out today, putting stock in the back,” Zyah supplied. He must have seen Perry holding things up on the monitor.
“He was very fast,” Chiffon continued. “And so heroic, saying he’d go to jail for Marie.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Marie said.
“He’s very good-looking, dear,” Jane added. “You’re single, aren’t you?”
Zyah’s fingers had been flashing over the keys, but she stumbled when she realized the ladies were in a conspiracy to hook her up with Keys now that they thought he was heroic and good-looking. Recovering, she gave them a small smile and a shake of her head. “You are all incorrigible.”
The women laughed, in no way deterred or remorseful. Others in the line laughed or smiled as well. Caspar was a small town, and for the most part, those who resided there knew one another. This time of day, late afternoon, most of the shoppers were locals and retired.
“What is that young man’s name again, dear?” Talia Barber asked. “I couldn’t quite hear it.” She made a face at the other women for talking so low.
Zyah knew Talia Barber lived two houses down from Jane. She owned a large piece of property with her husband, Lars. They had a main house they lived in, and had a second cottage they rented to a woman named Maggie Arnold, who, like them, was in her late sixties. They had a huge garden, mostly flowers, some very rare. Zyah had learned quite a bit about the garden from the Dardens.
“He’s called Keys, and he’s very nice. They all are, and they really have helped me. It’s been kind of difficult finding help. They come in and stock shelves sometimes and unload the trucks when they come in for Inez. I really appreciate that.”
“That’s what Inez told us,” Chiffon said. “Inez always knows everyone.”
Zyah rang the next customers up faster, hoping to keep the line moving so the women would stop matchmaking and head home. Apparently, they had a quilting class to go to, which she wanted to tell her grandmother about. Anat liked to sew, and she might find something like that very fun. It seemed quite a few of the women either knew her or knew of her through Inez or Lizz.
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a long blur of work. Zyah enjoyed the various customers. She was getting to know the regulars and liked most of them. Like Sea Haven, Caspar was mainly a small town made up of retired people, but there were some younger families moving in. Real estate wasn’t cheap. The views of the ocean were breathtaking, and many couples had bought homes specifically with the idea to retire there after working in cities.
Not everyone had tons of money. Many people had homes they were trying to hang on to, with minimum-paying jobs. Some, Zyah could tell, were tired of fighting the usual drug and alcohol problems, while others were determined to beat the odds. There was a community center where people came together with all sorts of ideas, and she’d been invited to just about every kind of function there was. It surprised her that in such a small town, there were so many diverse activities for the very young as well as the very old.
She called her grandmother several times a day to check on her. Anat always sounded cheerful—sometimes tired, but always cheerful. When she asked about Player, he was always resting, with one of the Torpedo Ink members looking after him, and Steele had come by to see him twice a day religiously. She didn’t know why, but she always felt a little twinge of jealousy, as if Steele were taking her place. She should have been grateful, but instead she felt as if she needed to rush home and claim the man for herself.
Night fell and she closed the store and made her way to the restaurant, Keys following her. She was used to the escort now and no longer resented any of the Torpedo Ink members shadowing her. She felt safer with their presence. She found it astonishing how quickly she’d adapted to the club.
The restaurant was on the smaller side, an intimate experience, not meant to feed a huge crowd. Alena had wanted to provide something special for her clientele. She didn’t advertise. In fact, she’d been so nervous about her opening that she’d practically told the club not to let anyone else know the restaurant was opening its doors.
The building was rectangular, mostly made of glass, built up on the hil
lside so that it had the view on one side of the distant ocean and on the other of the climbing slope leading up to the highway. The slope was covered in wildflowers and lilac and lavender bushes, with stairs meandering through the overgrown shrubbery all the way up to the flat top.
Tables were scattered throughout the room, with space between giving the clients plenty of privacy for intimate conversations. The chairs were comfortable and inviting, the tables solid and carved by Player, Master, Maestro and Keys, all of whom owned a construction company together but, more importantly, had a deep affinity for woodworking and created beautiful, unique pieces of furniture.
The overhead chandeliers and wall sconces were simple but beautiful, tasteful handblown glass by Lissa, the wife of Casimir, one of the Torpedo Ink members. Lissa was famous for her artwork and sold it all over the world. Lana had sewn the tablecloths and napkins, white with gold threads running through them. Lana had also been the one to choose the chairs for the tables. Anya had helped with the inside design of the restaurant itself.
There was a second room, equally as beautifully appointed, held in reserve for members of Torpedo Ink and locals who were good customers and came in without a reservation. Alena tried to accommodate them if at all possible. The restaurant was small, but it was very upscale, and the prices reflected that. Zyah didn’t know what she had been expecting, but when she went over the menu, she was a little surprised at what was offered.
She didn’t recognize any of the three waitresses, although the youngest looked familiar to her, as if she’d seen her in passing. All three smiled at her and sent Keys a quick acknowledgment.
“I don’t know them.”
“Darby,” Keys said, indicating the youngest waitress. “Czar’s girl. Scarlet, Absinthe’s wife. She’s the one with all the red hair. And that’s Soleil, Ice’s wife. Everyone pitches in when it gets really busy. We’re looking for help, but Alena’s very picky.” There was laughter in his voice. “She only serves wine here, not hard drinks, so no bartender.” He kept walking, taking her back to the kitchen. “Alena really does need help. Eventually, she’ll have a full bar, but at the moment, she just doesn’t have the help she needs.”
Reckless Road Page 15
