Emilie Rose - The Lottery Winner

That stiffness, combined with the way her hypervigilant gaze snapped toward the entrance each time the front door of his aunt’s restaurant opened, kept him ensnared. It was as if she feared who might walk in. He’d entered through the kitchen, so she’d missed his arrival.

His aunt came through the swinging doors and set a plate on the bar in front of him. “See what you think of this. I’m experimenting with the mahi.”

He eyed the dish. He’d spent a large part of his life being her number-one guinea pig. Most times, that was a good thing. “What is it?”

“Coconut-crusted mahi sliders with pineapple chutney.”

Sounded edible. He took a bite. The tender, flaky meat practically melted in his mouth, and the seasonings were the perfect balance between sweet and hot. He chewed, then swallowed. “This recipe’s a keeper. Who’s the new waitress?”

Miri’s gaze swung across the crowded dining room, stopping where his hovered. “Jessie. She’s a sweet girl. Experienced, too.”

“Where’s Carla? Late again?”

Miri hesitated, and he braced himself for the excuse du jour. “Carla’s doctor ordered her to stay off her feet for the rest of her pregnancy.”

“She’s barely pregnant.”

“She’s six months along, and her blood pressure spiked.”

He should have known the woman would find the one excuse for which she legally couldn’t be fired. He didn’t like her or her overly tattooed and pierced stoner boyfriend. They had a habit of borrowing money from Miri and never paying it back. Advances on her salary, his ass. The amounts were never deducted from the next check. His aunt was a pushover and a sucker for a sob story.

But on the positive side, Carla would be out for months. If he was lucky, she’d stay at home with her kid and never return.

“What do you know about the new girl?” With only one road on or off the islands, you tended to recognize residents quickly. “She’s not from here.”

“She’s honest and a good waitress.”

“How do you know if she’s honest? Did you do a criminal background check using the link I gave you?”

That earned him a scowl. “She says she isn’t a criminal, and I believe her.”

He didn’t like where this was going. “Did she pass the drug test?”

“I just hired her this morning, Logan. We haven’t had time for that yet.”

“You’re supposed to screen them before they start. Did you at least check her references?”

Miri grabbed a towel and wiped the bar, avoiding his gaze. “No time for that yet, either.”

“Give me her application. I’ll do it now. She can stop by the lab in the morning.” He rose and dug in his pocket for his cell phone.

“Sit down and put that thing away. Finish your dinner, Logan. I’ll get to the paperwork when I get to it. I needed Jessie tonight. You can see we’re still a couple of servers short. Everyone’s having to work seven days a week. Jessie’s covering double the tables she should be, and she’s doing it well. She even knew the computer system.”

“She’s another one of your strays, isn’t she?”

“Why must you always think the worst of everyone I hire?”

“Because you usually hire everyone else’s rejects. Is she staying in the apartment?” He’d spent time there too before he’d finished renovating his cottage.

“No, smarty-pants. Jessie has her own place. Stop trying to do my job. I’ve been running this business without your guidance for decades. I know how to hire employees. And quit being so suspicious of everyone. You’ll make yourself miserable if you don’t.”

“I’m looking out for your best interest. Do you see how she’s watching the door?”

“Let it go, Logan.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. The Fisherman’s Widow is fine. We don’t need a watchdog.” Miri sighed. “You act like I have no sense at all.”

“You don’t when it comes to people. You’re too softhearted. You surround yourself with leeches and losers. You let them take advantage of your generosity.”

Red flagged Miri’s cheeks. “You have no room to accuse me of choosing my associates unwisely.”

He winced. Miri didn’t have a mean bone in her body. That was as close to a low blow as she’d get. Because it was true—he hadn’t always been wise. His failure to see the situation right in front of him was the reason she had no cash reserves or retirement funds.

“Speaking of leeches and losers...that one’s a prime example,” Miri added in a waspy tone. He twisted to follow her scowling gaze and spotted the private detective he employed crossing the dining room. She shot I a scathing look when he took a seat. “I wish you’d hold your business fleecings elsewhere.”

The PI ignored Miri’s insult and smiled. “Well, if it ain’t my little ray of Florida sunshine. Always a pleasure to see you, too, Miri.” He delivered the words in an exaggerated version of his New Jersey accent, which seemed to irritate Logan’s aunt even more.

“What kind of name is I, anyway?” she snapped.

“Nobody can spell Ignatius. I save ’em the trouble by keeping it short and sweet. Kind of like you do, Miriam Louise.”

Logan’s aunt stiffened at the use of her given name, then stomped back into the kitchen. Logan shook his head. “Why do you needle her?”

“She started it. She treats me like a dog shit on her shoe. That whole lip-curling thing bugs the crap out of me. And what in the hell is wrong with using my initial?”

Miri got along with everyone. Why not I? The two had been at each other’s throats since their first meeting over a year ago.

“Anything?” Logan asked the PI.

“Nope. Trail went cold in Porto Alegre, Brazil.”

“Two people can’t just vanish.” Frustration killed Logan’s appetite. He pushed the unfinished meal aside.

“Your wife and business partner have. For now. They’ll turn up eventually. Finding them depends on how much money you want to spend. Me, I’d say good riddance and cut my losses.”

“Ex-wife and ex–business partner,” he corrected. “I can’t let this go. They destroyed my reputation when they embezzled our clients’ funds. No reputable firm will hire me.”

“What’s wrong with the setup you got here? You get a free meal every night. You got a decent place to stay. You set your own hours and make enough to get by doing people’s taxes. What else do you need?”

“I want them to admit what they did and clear my name.”

“Hate to tell ya, Nash, but even if we find ’em and they’re extradited to the States and they sing like canaries, it won’t get the stench off ya. Stuff like that tends to stick.”

Logan refused to accept that. He’d done nothing criminal, and he had to prove it. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

I shrugged. “Your dime. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya. You gonna finish that?”

“No.”

I snagged the dish, pulled it closer and shoved an untouched slider into his mouth. “Damn, that woman can cook,” he said.

“What do you make of her?” Logan nodded toward the brunette waitress.

“Hot. Yours?”

“Nah. Miri’s new hire. See the way she watches the door?”

I nodded. “She got outstanding warrants? Or an abusive ex?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d find out. Something’s got her jumpy.”

“I will. Don’t doubt it. I’ll be damned if someone else steals from Miri on my watch.”

CHAPTER TWO

JESSIE REFILLED THE last saltshaker and wiped down the table, then straightened and stretched the kinks from her spine. Her body ached from the unaccustomed exercise—but in a good way. She blinked her tired, gritty eyes. It was time to go home and remove these irritating contacts.