Ruby completes her duties on autopilot, hardly looking up as the last dinner orders arrive. Billy seems concerned, but she hates sympathy.
‘Are you okay, Chloe? You’ve gone quiet on me.’
‘It was a tough phone call, that’s all.’
‘Your old man’s in a bad way?’
‘Cancer’s a cruel illness, Billy.’
The chef pats her shoulder. ‘Go outside for a bit, love. Breathe some sea air.’
‘I’m better off keeping busy.’
‘Fair enough, but take breaks whenever.’
‘Thanks, Billy. I appreciate it.’
The man’s kindness lingers as Ruby prepares ice cream sundaes. She hasn’t eaten since lunch, but the sight of so much food makes her nauseous. Half an hour passes before she looks out of the window again. Kitto is returning with one of his guards, and her grief turns to anger. That man turned her dad’s last years into a living hell; he deserves the worst death imaginable. She forces herself to concentrate, clearing plates and stacking the dishwasher, until Billy calls to her.
‘Can you carry this tray to the back bar for me, love?’
It’s loaded with cheese, ham and French bread, plus a flask of coffee. Kitto appears when she taps on the door. The man towers over her, his hulking frame blocking the opening. Ruby wishes she’d brought her knife, to finish him now, yet he seems oblivious. Only his dog has guessed her true motives. It bares its teeth again, issuing a low growl.
‘Behave,’ Kitto hisses at the creature, then leans down to take the tray. ‘Thanks, Chloe. That’s just what we need.’
The door clicks shut in her face, filling her with frustration. She was hoping to overhear details, but the men are talking so quietly she can’t make out a single word.