Chapter Two

The best way to disarm someone was to gain their sympathy. Part of Quint’s cover involved wearing a walking boot that made it seem like he was recovering from an injury. His physical size could put the bar owner on the defensive, so the boot was meant to convey weakness and vulnerability. He slid his left foot inside and pulled the straps tight. Then he double-checked his ankle holster where his SIG Sauer was secured. Everything was good to go there.

Quint made the trek next door to the combo restaurant and bar. Dark images edged into his thoughts. He stopped them right there, gave himself a mental slap and shook his fear off. Getting inside his head would be bad for him and his partner. Let the past creep up, and he might as well hand over their cover. He needed to keep his head in the game.

He and Ree needed to go over the list of employees when he got her home. There was still a whole lot to discuss.

Surveying the lot, he took note of six cars, three trucks, four motorcycles and three parked RVs. He skimmed the license plates as he walked past, memorizing as many as he could and observing that several were from out of state. This wasn’t the time to rebuke himself for not thinking to capture a few of the license plates with his cell phone while he was still inside the cabin a few moments ago.

There was very little in the way of surveillance equipment in the parking lot. Small towns were known for being safe and for residents having each other’s backs. An illegal operation could have multiple people involved, including the county sheriff. Ree hadn’t been brought up to speed on the fact the bar owner and sheriff were second cousins. Even if they weren’t in league, the bar owner would know the sheriff’s blind spots. Family could be a huge blind spot. The single mother who’d raised him was nothing short of an angel in his eyes. After some of his stunts, she probably deserved sainthood. And he would do anything for her if she was still alive. Families usually could be counted on to cover for each other.

As Quint reached for the door handle, a big, burly biker-looking guy with one of those handlebar mustaches pushed it open from the inside and took a couple of steps before holding it for Quint. “Here you go, man.”

He wore black from head to toe and sported a leather vest with the Harley Davidson logo on the left-hand side. At least his T-shirt was short-sleeved in this heat. Quint assumed the man owned one of the motorcycles in the parking lot.

“Appreciate it,” Quint said with a nod.

Once inside, he immediately skimmed the restaurant, taking it all in. His gaze stopped at the bar area on the left-hand side of the room, back corner. The darkened bar wasn’t open for the lunch crowd. Otherwise the place was brightly lit, with open seating, cafeteria style. There were at least a dozen tables scattered around the main section.

In the center of the back wall, there was a pair of stainless steel doors leading into what must be the kitchen. They had twin windows that looked more like portals on a cruise ship. One of the doors was marked In, and the other, Out.

The restaurant buzzed with conversation. It had a little bit of a retro diner feel to it, with glossy, red vinyl booths lining the perimeter. The tables were small four-tops with stainless steel chairs that had cushions in the same material as the booths. The setup was reminiscent of a 1950s soda fountain, and the smells coming out of the kitchen made his mouth water. This was the kind of place that he could easily see ending up on one of those diners-and-dives shows on TV. There was original art hanging on the walls with handwritten price tags. Locals?

Quint’s blood pressure started to climb when he didn’t immediately see Ree. If he was the owner and the restaurant was this busy, he would park someone he was interviewing in the bar area. The fact she wasn’t there or anywhere else in view kicked up his racing pulse a few more notches.

He studied the faces of the people at the tables. They were some families, some locals as well as foodie types on the road who were making a pit stop on their way somewhere else. Then there was the biker club. Several sat in a corner booth, hunkered over their plates and barely mumbling a word to each other as they ate. He would keep an eye on them.

The restroom sign to the right caught his eye. He took a couple of steps toward it and saw a long hallway. There was a counter and stools over there. Looked like the place had counter service for single diners.

A college-age waitress in a blouse that was unbuttoned down practically to her belly button and tied off underneath her breasts bounded toward him. She had on leather bike shorts and white boots.

“Just one today?” She smiled at him. Her cheeriness seemed forced and her cheeks flushed as she picked up a menu.

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“Booth, counter or table?” She practically beamed at him, her gaze sliding down his body, stopping at his boot. He could have sworn she frowned.

“Counter.” He figured that area would afford the best visuals to the kitchen. The spot would block most of his view of the restaurant and he wouldn’t see any of the bar area, but a sacrifice had to be made.

Quint needed to know where Ree was, and he needed to know now.

“Right this way.” The waitress’s name tag read Zoey.

Quint focused on the tile floor and its black-and-white checkered pattern as he followed Zoey to his stool. The area looked straight into the kitchen. The waitress stopped and faced the kitchen, leaving very little room between her and the stool. Rather than risk touching her, he walked around to the other side instead. Was flirting part of the job? She looked young enough to be his daughter, so the move did little more than cause his stomach to churn.

A frown brought the corners of her mouth down and creased her forehead. It was more than a frown...a pout? Even if Quint wasn’t “married” on this assignment, Zoey was far too young for his liking. When he dated, he went for someone closer to his age, someone who liked the same era of music and was more than a pretty face. He liked someone he could have a real conversation with. Someone who set her phone down when she spoke to him. Call him low-tech, but he preferred to talk to someone who looked at him during a conversation and not at a screen. Then again, flirting might be part of the job.

Zoey made a humph noise before asking, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Coffee and water,” he stated as he scanned the kitchen staff.

His gaze stopped on Ree. She stood at the order counter across from the kitchen staff, balancing a tray in one hand while taking plates off the counter with the other. Her coordination skills were on point: he’d give her that. Relief washed over him that she wasn’t tied up somewhere, bound and gagged.

She wore the same outfit as Zoey. The shirt showed off way too much of her ample cleavage and those shorts hugged her body like...

Never mind. Suffice it to say the company uniform didn’t get two thumbs-up from her “husband.”

As she turned, their eyes caught, and a look of panic crossed her features. Quint cleared his throat and looked down at the menu, figuring he’d caught her off guard and thrown her out of her comfort zone.

Again, he kicked himself.

If he could read her, then so could a seasoned criminal. There was no way Quint could protect her without being by her side 24/7. Now that she’d met the owner, maybe they could come up with an excuse for her to disappear. Something sudden could have happened in the family, like her mother falling ill. It would be for Ree’s own good.

Quint stopped himself right there, the dark hole threatening to drag him under. He put his face in his hands and then rubbed the scruff on his chin. This assignment was nothing like the one that had killed Tessa.


“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Ree forced a smile as her new coworker joined them, bringing coffee and water to Quint. Her gaze dropped to his lips—lips she’d been trying to forget since leaving the cabin more than an hour ago.

“Came to look at my beautiful wife,” he said, shooting her a look that threatened to melt all her carefully constructed defenses. This man was good. A little too good if anyone asked her.

“I’m working right now, honey,” she said as her cheeks flushed. A look passed behind those serious blue eyes of his. She’d scored a direct hit on something. No idea what it meant, though. She made a mental note to figure it out later when they were alone. The thought of being holed up in a one-room cabin with a man who caused her pulse to skyrocket every time she looked at him didn’t do good things to her blood pressure.

Ree took in a deep breath. Rather than panic, she could use her nerves to her advantage. They made her bold. She set her tray down, leaned over the counter and drew on her most seductive smile. “But I’ll see you at home later.”

Quint’s gaze momentarily dipped and her cheeks warmed. She realized the move had given him a bird’s-eye view of her cleavage.

He cleared his throat like he couldn’t find his voice.

“Is that a promise?” His voice was a low, throaty growl.

Ree smirked. She couldn’t help it. Throwing Quint off his game even for a second was satisfying. Besides, the whole exchange would only sell the fact they were newlyweds.

Zoey took the hint, dropping off the drinks without so much as a word and beating feet so fast it looked like she was training for a track meet.

The sapphire color of Quint’s eyes darkened with something that looked a whole lot like need when he locked gazes with Ree. She shouldn’t gloat but, damn, it felt good to know she wasn’t the only one who’d been affected by that kiss. Seemed like it might have been a two-way street and the ever-cool, ever-in-charge, living legend Quinton Casey had a moment, too.

“I gotta serve my customers.” Ree picked up the tray and walked away, sashaying her hips.

Her ego had her taking a look back a moment before she walked away. Big mistake. Head down, Quint was studying his cup of coffee like it was a midterm and he was one failing grade away from being booted out of school.

After delivering food to her table, she didn’t get much chance to look at Quint again considering the next hour was nonstop. The restaurant was bustling, which was good for tips and a great way to prove herself to Charley Davies. Her interview with the man had lasted all of three minutes when he’d gone to a locker in the backroom, tossed her a uniform—if it could be called that—and then asked if she could start immediately. Business was picking up.

She’d nodded, smiled and gone into the restroom to try on the getup. It fit. Charley had a good eye for sizing, but she also figured he only hired one size, and could easily be classified as a chauvinist. The way he’d eyed her up and down when they’d first met had her wanting to take a shower. He’d stopped short of apologizing when he casually mentioned his customers were picky about who served them.

Letting the comment go went against her nature. Her brothers might pick on her but they never treated her like she was breakable or couldn’t handle their teasing. In many ways, she was just like one of them and they were equal opportunity pranksters. Stuffing down her feelings wouldn’t be easy, but this was her job and she reminded herself of the greater good she was doing.

Besides, her immediate reaction to Charley was that he was guilty of something. It was her job to figure out what it was, because last she checked, being a restaurant/bar owner who only hired a certain type wasn’t technically against the law.

Three hours after her interview, the lunch crowd waned. At some point, Quint had gone home. And the waitresses were down to filling ketchup bottles to prep for the dinner crowd that—she checked her watch—would start in roughly an hour. All she wanted to do was go home and put her feet up. Being on the go for literally three hours straight without so much as a restroom break took a toll. Her dogs were barking.

“Great job today.” Charley’s voice right behind her caught her off guard.

She gasped, and then spun around.

“Thanks,” she managed to say.

“Looks like you’ll be a good addition to the family,” he said. Charley was tall, with a runner’s build. He had sandy blond hair and gray eyes. Some might consider him good-looking. He had a small scar above his right cheek and straight white teeth. Ree couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about him—the air of a creep or criminal, or both—that made her want to be as far away as possible, but it was her job to find out.

“The people seem nice and the tips were better than I’ve ever made,” she said.

Charley took a step back and smiled. “Good. See you in an hour for a double shift.”

An hour? She couldn’t imagine turning around and doing this again with a longer shift. Then again, it gave her an excuse to spend more time here.

“One of my waitresses called in sick,” he explained. “Do you mind coming back?”

“Sure,” she said before he walked back to the kitchen.

Ree topped off the last ketchup bottle and checked out. Sweat practically dripped off her as she made the walk next door, a wad of cash in her pocket. The money was good at Greenlight Bar and Restaurant. If she’d made this kind of cash in three hours at lunch, she could only imagine how much she could make at dinner. None of it was hers to keep, though.

As she approached the cabin, the door swung open. Her nerves tingled at seeing Quint again, but she told herself it was only because of the kiss earlier. And since she always faced her fears, she walked straight up to him before he could say a word and planted the steamiest kiss smack on the man’s lips.

Her breath quickened, her heart raced and her body hummed with electricity. There was one question on her mind. Had she gone too far?