Where Winter Finds You (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18)- J.R Ward Page 0,13

signs.

It was too fucked up.

Forcing himself to get moving, Trez kept things slow as he went down toward the kitchen so he didn’t catch up with her. The last thing he needed was to add stalking to his list of career choices. Like pimp and drug dealer weren’t enough on his LinkedIn?

The back of the house was utilitarian, nothing but painted concrete walls, and serviceable spaces like iAm’s office, the locker room, and the staff break room. And then there was the kitchen itself. As Trez emerged into the huge space, he blinked in the glare of the bright lights and the stainless steel. Everything was spotless, well organized, and, due to the inclement weather, nothing like the hotbed of activity that usually hustled around the stoves, the ovens, the prep counters, and the staging area.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Something was burning on the stove, and where was his brother? Where was the sous chef?

“iAm?” he called out as he went over to the sixteen-burner and moved a pot of sauce off the heat. “iAm!—”

“—here, I’m right here.” His brother came rushing out of the pantry, a twenty-pound bag of flour in one hand, a flat of eggs in the other. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good.” Yup, just fantastic. I’ve been upgraded from suicidal to self-annoying. Next stop: Lunatic. “Where is everyone?”

“Most of them couldn’t come in because of the storm.” iAm dumped the bag on the counter. “I just sent Enzo home, along with my other two chefs. I’m just going to handle things myself tonight.”

“Whatever’s in there was burning.” Trez pointed to the pot. “I moved it over.”

“Thanks.”

Instead of going over to check on what was up with the sauce, iAm put his egg load down like he meant to get started on whatever it was he’d intended to make. Except then he seemed to lose focus, bracing both hands on the counter and lowering his head.

Trez frowned. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure about that?” Trez glanced at the pot. “When was the last time you burned something?”

There was only a heartbeat of a pause, the kind of thing that almost no one would notice. And then iAm’s black eyes looked up and he appeared perfectly normal, perfectly calm, as he lied:

“I’m fine. Really.”

Guess two could play at this game, Trez thought.

* * *

“This is bullshit. I’m out of here.”

As the words were pushed out of an angry, lipsticked mouth, Therese glanced across the water-filling station. Liza, a female human who was one of six servers supposed to be on, had evidently decided to jump ship and was determined that everyone not only know that she was leaving, but also be aware that she did not approve of the weather.

Like someone inside of Sal’s was in charge of the blizzard button and had negligently greenlighted the storm.

“Fucking snow.” Liza reached around to the small of her back and yanked at the ties on her half apron. “I’ve got rent to pay. There are two tables filled, and neither of them are in my room anyway. I swear that fucking hostess hates me.”

Therese looked away. Liza Drama was something she had learned to stay out of, although God knew it was a big pool to fall into.

“Maybe more customers will come in.” Emile leaned out around the ice bin and the stacks of plastic refill containers. “It’s early.”

“I’m not waiting around.” Liza wadded up her apron and put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do.”

Therese went about her business, taking one of the pitchers, opening the ice tank, and getting some chips out. Liza was not talking to her. Liza never talked to her. The woman couldn’t have made her dislike more obvious if she had tattooed her forehead with “Back Off, New Girl, He’s Mine.”

“I’m going to stay here,” he said. “I need my shift money.”

“How am I supposed to get home?”

Therese graduated from the ice bin to the water dispenser, pushing the lip of the pitcher against the toggle. The stream of cold water that came out was steady but small. She wished the damn machine peed like a racehorse so she didn’t have to listen to this.

“I don’t know.” Emile shrugged. “Call an Uber?”

“You are my ride, Emile.”

Okay. So all Therese could hear in her head was Faye Dunaway gritting out, No more wire haaaaaaaaaangers!

“And I am staying here.”

Therese felt the sting of the woman’s glare on the back of her neck so acutely, she had to roll her shoulders to