Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,51

“He doesn’t need the tips.”

I nearly told her his tips were my tips, but she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

I added the rum and coconut milk to the mixture before setting it on the base to blend. While I waited, I pulled a few more beers and set them on a tray with a ticket. At least I’d filled one of the tickets, although there were at least half a dozen more. Talking to Greta was more important. I poured the pineapple drink into a tall glass, added a straw, and set it in front of her. “If we had any of those fancy umbrellas, I would have added one.”

She took a sip and her eyes lit up. “Girl, as long as it tastes this good, you could put it in a red Solo cup and I’d be happy.”

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” I said, moving on to the next ticket.

“Shh…” she said, closing her eyes as she took another sip. “Don’t spoil my good mood.”

“Okay, but I can’t stay behind the counter for long.” While Max was making the rounds with his easygoing smile, I could tell some of my customers were getting pissed. And soon the people around the bar would be rioting for their drinks.

She was quiet for nearly a minute before she said, “I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said.”

“I said a lot of things,” I said, my stomach a bundle of nerves.

She shot me a dark scowl. “About Lula.”

It had all been about Lula, but I knew better than to point that out.

“I asked around about you,” she said, then took a sip through her straw.

“Oh?” I said in surprise, my brain scrambling to figure out whom she might have asked. Just about everyone who knew anything about me was in this room.

“I wanted to know if I could trust you.”

“And?”

Rather than answer, she focused on sipping her drink, which was going down entirely too fast. But I didn’t really need her to share. I doubted she would have shown up to gloat if she’d heard through the grapevine that I was a terrible person. She was here because I’d been deemed trustworthy.

She leaned closer and caught my eye. “When Lula left for Chattanooga, she was deliverin’ a package.”

I hadn’t seen that one coming. “What kind of package?”

She glanced around, then leaned even closer. “She wouldn’t say. Trust me, I asked.”

“Was it for Bingham?”

She paused for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

But the look in her eyes told me she still didn’t trust me enough to be truthful. Which suggested this might be related to one of the illegal activities she’d mentioned.

I took a breath. “Greta, did Lula mention that she was going to run off again?”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. She told me she was stickin’ around because she needed the job. Because of…you know.”

I nodded. “Have you heard from her at all today?” When she shook her head, I said, “Do you know why she was scared of Bingham last night?”

She shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What do you know about her breakup with him?”

“Not a thing. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean she shares everything with me.” She took another sip of her drink, then glanced up at me. “Yesterday afternoon, I asked about her trip, but she refused to tell me anything about it other than insisting she was done. No more runnin’ packages.”

“Is that what she was doin’ every time she left?” I asked. “Running packages?”

Greta pressed her lips together as though locking Lula’s secret into a vault.

“Greta, I want to help her, but you have to tell me what you know.”

“Why?” she asked with more vitriol than I’d expected. Especially since she’d come to me. “You’ll have more hours if she stays away. Maybe you want her gone for good. Or maybe you’re workin’ with Marco to get her into trouble.”

“No, Greta,” I said in a soft, calm voice. “I swear to you that I don’t have a malicious reason for looking into this. I’m worried about her.”

“Why?” she shot back. “You work with her for a few hours, and suddenly you’re attached to her? You think you can save her?”

Save her? I cocked my head. “Save her from what?”

She glanced down at her nearly empty drink as though trying to decide if keeping her secrets was worth ditching her drink. When she lifted her gaze, her eyes pleaded for understanding. “I want to trust you, Carly, really I do, but