Eileen Wilks - Expecting...And In Danger

Nikki giggled. “If he was, he’d be having triplets, wouldn’t he? How far along are you?”

Sighing, Charlotte turned around. Her cover had been blown by a pink apron. “Five months. Please, if Zeno finds out, he’ll—”

“As if I would! Tell Zeno? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Sorry. I can’t help worrying. I need this job.”

“Then we’d better get moving.” Nikki gave her a gentle shove and they headed for the stairs at the back of the kitchen. The restaurant’s seating was on ground level, the kitchen in the basement. She’d be going up and down those steps a hundred times tonight.

“I guess it’s scary when you’re on your own,” Nikki said. “Did the father walk out on you?”

Was flying to the other side of the country the same as walking out? Maybe not, since he didn’t know about the baby. All at once Charlotte was dead tired. Everything was wrong, and she couldn’t seem to make any of it come right again.

Not everything, she reminded herself. At least she knew Brad was safe. Probably. As long as no one knew where he was. “We shouldn’t talk about this here,” she said. “Maybe you won’t say anything, but if someone overheard…”

“Like that Serena.” She nodded, making her platinum curls bob. “She’d split on you in a second. Good thing she never looks past her mirror.”

Charlotte pushed open the swinging door. “True. Which station do I have tonight?”

“Four. Serena’s on two, I’ve got one, and—hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She hoped. “The tall guy with the shaved head and Cubs cap in my station. The one talking on a cell phone. Have you seen him in here before?”

Nikki cocked her head. “Don’t think so. Why?”

Idiot. Why had she told him where she worked? “He said he didn’t like teensy blondes,” she muttered.

“Who, that guy? He’s kinda cute.” She cocked her head and smiled. “Maybe he likes tall blondes.”

Had it been coincidence that he’d been there when the car nearly ran her down? He’d seemed nice, in a rude sort of way. But he’d insisted on walking with her, and now here he was…. Panic flared. She didn’t know what to do, whether she should run or stay. Charlotte took a deep breath.

She had her backpack. If she had to—if he seemed too interested, or acted funny—she could be out the back door in a flash. “Want to swap stations? You could find out if he likes tall blondes better than dinky ones like me.”

For the next half hour she tried to keep busy. But her nerves were jumping, and each minute jerked into the next in a painfully slow way. Her admirer—if that’s what he was—didn’t make any effort to talk to her. So why was he here? He wasn’t a regular, and he hadn’t spoken to Zeno, so he wasn’t here to bet on the horses, or whatever.

Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. After delivering a French dip, a pastrami on rye and two hamburgers to the third table in her station, she went up to Mr. Cubs Cap.

“Okay,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding. “I want to know why you followed me here.”

“Didn’t.” He pounded on the bottom of his ketchup bottle. “Your ego’s showing again, sister. I was here, I was hungry, I decided to eat. Hey, you think you could get me some more ketchup? This one’s about dry.”

Automatically she took the bottle he held out. “I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care. You going to get me some ketchup or not?”

A hand landed heavily on her shoulder. “Never mind, Dix. I’ll take it from here.”

In her dreams Charlotte had sometimes plummeted in an out-of-control elevator. That was what this felt like now—the stomach-dropping second of disbelief sliding into greasy fear and guilt. And, God help her, mixing with the swift kick of desire.

Her eyes closed. “Rafe,” she whispered.

“Got it in one.” His voice was cordial—and achingly familiar. His grip on her shoulder was tight. “I guess that means you haven’t forgotten me entirely, even if a few other things have slipped your mind.”

Slowly she turned. His hand fell away.

His trench coat was long, black and leather. His jeans had probably come from a discount store, but the dark blue shirt would be the finest Egyptian cotton because Rafe liked the way it felt. He’d told her that once. His wavy brown hair was too long, as usual, wild and shaggy. It looked as if the wind had been playing with it.

Or a woman. That, too, would be as usual.

He doesn’t belong here, she thought with a rising sense of panic. He wasn’t supposed to be here, not in a place like this. He was too blasted perfect for a place like this.

The thought gave her courage. Maybe it was a fool’s version, born of anger and untainted by common sense, but she’d take what she could get. She straightened her shoulders. “I suppose you want to talk to me, but it will have to wait until my shift is over.”

“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think it will.” He took her hand and started for the door, dragging her with him.

“Rafe.” She tried to pull her hand free. “Have you lost your mind? I can’t go with you now.”

“Sure you can.” He didn’t slow as he wove through the crowded tables.

People were staring. She set her feet firmly so he couldn’t keep tugging her along like a reluctant puppy, and for a moment it worked. He gave her a hard look over his shoulder and a sharp jerk on the hand imprisoned in his.

She nearly toppled. It was either stumble after him or fall to the floor. He dragged her another few steps. “Dammit, you’re going to get me fired!”

“Do you think I give a flying—”

“What the hell is going on here?” Zeno planted himself in front of Rafe, glower firmly in place.

Charlotte had never imagined she would see Zeno in the light of a savior. “This idiot is dragging me out the door!”

“I don’t want any trouble here,” Zeno said, sparing her a condemning glance, as if it were all her fault this madman was trying to abduct her. “Whatever your problem with her is, you’ll have to settle things when she’s not working.”

“She won’t be working for you anymore after tonight,” Rafe informed him calmly.

“Yes, I will.” She gave one more hard tug, but only succeeded in hurting her wrist.

Rafe went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “She shouldn’t be working here now, not in her condition.”

“What condition?” Zeno demanded.

Don’t tell him, Charlotte chanted mentally. Don’t tell him, please…

Rafe’s eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t know that she’s pregnant?”

“She’s what?” Zeno rounded on her. “Why, you lying little bitch. Is that why you’ve been wearing those puke-ugly sweaters?” He grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulled it tight, and put his hand on the bulge of her stomach.

Rafe dropped her hand. And swung once, clean, short and sharp, his fist connecting with Zeno’s jaw with a solid thunk. The older man’s eyes opened wide in amazement just before he collapsed.

Rafe rubbed his fist. “No touching,” he growled. Then he grabbed Charlotte’s hand and towed her out of there.

“Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked as he dragged her out the door. “You just punched out my boss!”

“Something tells me he isn’t your boss anymore.”

It was fully dark now—as dark as this corner of the city ever got, at least. The air was cold, the night punctuated with horns and headlights. Neon draped its tawdry glitter over buildings, cars and faces. Those faces were fewer than before and their owners moved more slowly, the ones in groups laughing too loudly, those alone wary and watchful. Or simply empty. The women’s skirts were shorter, their lips brighter red. And none of the night people crowding the sidewalk seemed inclined to take exception to the man in a black leather trench coat who bullied his way through them, or the way he dragged his unwilling victim along.