Page 65 of The Witness

“I haven’t been on a bike in a million years.” There’d been a brief moment in culinary school when I dated a guy with a crotch rocket. He’d been an idiot. It didn’t last, but the motorcycle was fun.

“I have a helmet for you and everything.”

A few minutes later after I gathered my things, I joined him outside next to his massive bike. The jet black machine gleamed in the morning sun. It was all obscene curves and raw power. It seemed to vibrate even when it was at rest.

He fitted my helmet, then threw a leg over the seat and beckoned for me to join. The feral smile on his lips made my panties damp. He looked straight-up sexy on the Harley.

I slid onto the seat behind him. As I wrapped my arms around him, I bumped something cold and hard hidden under the hem of his shirt.

A gun. Shit.

He must have had it stashed in one of the compartments on the motorcycle.

The memory of Sandoval with a knife in one hand reaching toward me flashed in my head. I clung to Michael and willed it away. That was over. The gun was only a precaution. I forced myself to relax and enjoy the speed of the bike and the perfect Florida weather as we rode through town.

Mentally, I congratulated myself for doing as he’d asked yesterday and waiting for him to join me on my first visit to Viande. I’d be happy to have him and his weapon at my back. I’m brave, but not stupid. Sandoval’s organization, even in disarray, wasn’t anything I wanted to face on my own.

The roar of the bike’s engine amplified as we turned down the narrow streets in the Design District. We rolled past the sleekmodern storefronts, upscale art galleries, and luxurious stores. Nothing was open this early other than a fancy gym, so Michael could park close to Viande.

My small restaurant space was tucked down a side street, not on the main drag. No way I’d have been able to afford that kind of rent. But the quieter location had an advantage: there was space for sidewalk seating.

I hopped off the bike and gave him back the helmet. I hated the uncomfortable knot growing in my stomach that made me want to retch already.

Michael was looking at his cell, typing a text. “A few Miami PD buddies came by a little while ago to check in. All’s quiet.”

I tried to smile but failed. “And you’re armed.”

“Better safe than sorry.” He brushed his hand over the concealed weapon.

I nodded. But lacked the will to move. “It’s probably worse in my head than in real life, right? I’ve seen the photos and read the police report. How shocked can I be?” I hated how nervous I sounded.

“There’s no rush. I’m here on your schedule.” He put our helmets on the back of the bike.

“Are you on my schedule? Or is this work?” I wanted a distraction. This was as good as any.

“It’s partly my job and partly because you shouldn’t have to face this alone. You deserve some support. But today is officially a day off. Tomorrow too. So do with me what you will.” He offered his arm.

I mulled over his words and willed my feet to move. The walk wasn’t far. A few small boutiques separated our parking spot from Viande’s boarded-up windows. Once we started to walk, I let Michael drag me along so I wouldn’t chicken out.

From the sidewalk, it wasn’t too bad, but that was because of the plywood that covered the mess like some hideous construction Band-Aid. The gaping wound was underneath.

The marble-look five-foot-tall porcelain tiles that clad the building facade were chipped. Small round bullet holes pockmarked them like acne on a teenager’s face. Fuck, those tiles were a special order from Italy.

Michael reached for the padlock dangling from a chain that secured the makeshift door and spun in a combination. He told me the numbers as he worked. They went in one ear and out the other.

“Ready?” He gripped the sheet of plywood with both hands, waiting for my go-ahead.

I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw so tight my teeth hurt, and exhaled. Dithering on the doorstep wouldn’t change what was on the other side. “Rip the Band-Aid off.”

Inside was awful. My work boots crunched on broken glass as I tried to take it in. Everywhere my eyes landed there was a beautiful detail I’d hand-selected that had been destroyed or damaged.

It hit like a kick to the gut. I bent in half, my hands on my knees as I gasped in air filled with dust and the faint hint of smoke.Oh, fuck there’d been a fire too. I was about to sit down before I fell down when Michael wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to him.

This was the low point. Any semblance of a badass strong woman I had left disintegrated. I cried. Huge ugly sobs into his big muscular chest. Not my finest moment, but it was the release I needed. Five minutes to fall apart, then I’d get to work.

Chapter 29

Michael

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