Page 3 of Rescued By the Mafia
“We have a problem with some local gangs,” Dante said.
“More specifically,” Mikey said, laying the device flat on the table and sliding it to Romeo. “A couple pests have turned into one infestation.”
Dante watched Romeo narrow his eyes at Mikey. “I really hate your metaphors. Have I ever told you that?” He didn’t wait for a response before turning his attention to the display.
Dante looked back at Mikey. “A formal merger, then?”
“By all accounts,” Mikey said, inclining his head.
Dante drummed his fingers over the side of his arm. “So their numbers have doubled.”
“They’re going to think that puts them even with us,” Romeo said, his tone finally focused.
“They can think whatever they want.” Dante waved off the phone when Romeo offered to pass it to him. “Comparable numbers mean nothing with an imbalance of skill and resources. We’ll keep an eye on their movements, but I want the focus on reinforcing our own strength.”
Mikey tucked away his phone. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears out.”
Romeo inclined his head.
Dante let his gaze sweep out over what he could see of the dining area again. Business seemed to be doing well, with more than half the tables occupied. Staff moved around each other in an intricate dance, juggling precariously balanced trays of food and drink along the way. He couldn’t immediately see any signs of trouble. No one was pushing away their food or waving an angry hand in their server’s face.
An almost glowing trail of orange-red hair caught his attention as their server for the evening moved through the throng. For several seconds, her hair was all he could easily discern of her, like a spotlight against the darkness.
He let himself study her as she came closer, a tray with their requested drinks and a pitcher of iced water balanced at her shoulder. Her hair was down, tumbling past her shoulders, and her naturally paler complexion looked nearly white against the black uniform. The uniform hung a bit loosely around her shoulders and pinched in at her waist where the shirt tucked in. Even with the added bulk of the apron, her hourglass figure was clear.
It was as if she were trying to hide herself in the crowd. That was the impression he had when he looked at her. But there was no hiding that beauty.
The real question that rose in Dante’s mind as he watched her hand out their drinks was why did she feel the need to hide at all?
The night had only gotten busier, and Iris had ultimately barely been able to pay proper attention to the supposedly special table she’d been assigned. The three brothers hadn’t lingered long after their meal, and she hadn’t seen them leave, but the tip that had been left for her nearly made her faint on the spot. She hadn’t done anything over-the-top for them, and they hadn’t ordered anything other than drinks and entrees, so she’d been unprepared for something so generous.
Maybe that’s why they’re important?
She slipped her tip earnings into the zippered pouch of her purse, then tucked the purse back into its cubby. The Dragon’s Roast allowed servers to keep one hundred percent of their tips when they handled a table independently, so Dante’s generosity would go entirely into her pocket.
Her heart beat a little faster as another memory of his piercing blue eyes rose up in her mind. She’d learned his name when one of his dinner companions had addressed him, and she wasn’t sure it hadn’t been an intentional slip, but it hardly mattered. More than likely she’d never see the man again. A part of her wished she would, somehow, but Iris knew better than to let that linger. It was better—safer—if the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on remained a distant stranger.
Iris let out a small sigh and reached for the bottle of water she’d acquired from the kitchen. Her break would only last a few more minutes, she needed to refresh herself for the last stretch of her shift.
Movement at the entrance of the break room caught her attention as one of her fellow servers, a nice enough seeming man named Benny, stepped past the threshold. His eyes practically lit up when he saw her. “Good, you’re in here,” he said.
Iris frowned at the odd greeting. They’d spoken a few times before and she thought she could get along with him, but that was an odd thing to say to someone. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m on break.”
He nodded like he wasn’t really listening. “Hey, uh, that’s your old Corolla in the employee lot, right?”
His question made her go still. Seconds passed before she said, “It is.”
Benny reached up and scratched at the back of his neck. “You should probably go outside and take a look at it,” he said. “I was walking through the lot on my break and it looked like your back tires are completely flat.”
Iris shot to her feet, water from the uncapped bottle sloshing onto her hand. “What? What do you mean they’re flat?” That was impossible. It had to be. She took care of that stupid car the best that she could. She knew she hadn’t driven to work on multiple flat tires.
Benny held up his hands. “Hey, calm down! I know it’s upsetting—”
Iris shook her head and started to pace, no longer seeing him. “It’s beyond upsetting. It makes no sense. Those tires should be fine. The back tires? No. One of those tires is basically new; it can’t have just spontaneously deflated.”
She wasn’t paying attention, didn’t realize she’d circled halfway around Benny in her frenzied state, not until strong, steady hands settled over her. Stilling her. Her eyes flew wide and her head snapped up. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she found herself nearly pressed up against the chest of the very man she’d been fantasizing about minutes earlier. He had a hand at the small of her back while his other closed around the hand she still had latched onto her bottle of water.
He studied her for a long, heavy second, then lifted his stare to Benny. “What’s the problem here?”