Page 27 of Wife Number One

I cringed but didn’t look up. “How drunk are they tonight?”

Toro paused for a second, watching them. “Pretty bad. Simon is trying to herd them to seats in the back.”

I shook my head and kept on with chopping a carrot. “Good luck to him. If their team lost, which I assume it did, considering they didn’t enter with cheers and shouts like they normally would, they’ll all be in shitty, argumentative moods. And will forget to tip.”

Toro went back to his workstation. “There’s a couple of guys from the Slayers Motorcycle Club out there too. Maybe they’ll keep them in line.”

I gripped my knife harder and bit back a scoff at the mention of the motorcycle club the Sinners considered their biggest rivals. “Fuck the Slayers,” I muttered. “They’re more likely to start a fight than prevent one.” I might have been out of the game, but it didn’t mean I’d suddenly switched teams.

Toro glanced over at me questioningly. “Really? They’ve always seemed like good guys to me. Scary as fuck, but I’ve never seen them start any trouble.”

I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? I wasn’t about to tell this eighteen-year-old kid the Slayers were up to their fucking eyeballs in illegal activities.

Or how I knew about it.

They could eat where they liked, but I didn’t have to notice. “Stop talking and do your work,” I said to Toro, not wanting to think about it anymore.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Not a fucking chef,” I mumbled again, but it was with no heart.

A crash came from the main dining area, and a roar of drunken laughter came up after it, along with a few cries of dismay. I didn’t have to look up to know that the plates Toro and I had just sent out were probably now all over the floor. I sighed and just started replating the orders.

Carli’s pissed-off voice shouted over the top of it. “Did you just fucking knock my tray so I would drop them all?”

Toro and I both stopped and peered out through the serving window. Carli was a tough nut, she was used to guys like these, but it was rare for her to lose her patience and yell at them the way she just had.

Simon kept this place pretty family-friendly, and there were kids around. Carli might have grown up in the trailer park, but I’d never heard her cuss like that at a customer. Her tone and the volume of it told me she knew very well that her tray of food and glasses, that was now spread out all over the floor, was no accident.

“Oops!” one of the hockey guys slurred. “Seems like you need an extra set of hands, sweetheart. Let me help you.” He staggered out of the booth and made a show of bending to pick up a broken plate from the floor and placing it back on her now empty tray.

He made sure his hand brushed over her boob while he was at it.

“Aw, fuck no.” Toro dropped a set of tongs from his fingers right as I dropped the knife.

Fuck no, indeed.

Carli was tough and could handle her shit, but she was one woman against a group of drunken men.

Drunken men who would be leaving and never coming back. ’Cause fuck if some guy was going to indecently grope a teenager in front of me.

I strode through the kitchen, my long strides eating up the small space quickly, Toro right behind me. I pushed out through the kitchen doors right as Carli swung a punch at the groper’s face.

He blinked.

And then punched her back.

All fucking hell broke loose.

I let out a shout and doubled my pace, full speed running at the man and crash tackling him to the floor, my fingers already curled into a fist.

I sent it flying into his meaty face so hard my knuckles cracked.

I didn’t care. How dare he. How dare he lay a single fucking finger on a woman like that. How dare he even fucking think about it.

I just kept punching, frustration from my run-in with Luca and the loss of the auction mixing with my anger. I was fast, and the punches were well-aimed.

The guy’s feeble attempts at fighting me off were laughable. But his friends shouted from their booth, and I knew it would only be seconds before I was surrounded, so I got in as many good punches as I could.

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