Page 36 of Grave Games

Probably.

The sun was setting when I realized I was starting to glance toward the glass front of the diner. It was a little early for Romeo to show up, but now that I knew who he was—though I still didn’t know his actual name—I had the hope that maybe he’d show up to keep me company. Maybe even get our evening started early with some good food and even better flirting. But the doorway remained stubbornly Romeo-less, so I did my best to focus on the mindless tasks of taking orders and schlepping food. That didn’t stop me from looking over every time I heard the door open, which was why I was the first to spot Marvel and his pal I had glimpsed from the Harley-Davidson store, Radar, when they ambled into the diner’s small wait-to-be-seated area.

Marvel.

Oh, shit.

Marvel.

Oh SHIT.

In a heartbeat I spun and went through the nearest door, which happened to lead to the kitchen and the small employee breakroom beyond. Had they seen me? It didn’t matter, I told myself, not stopping until I was in the empty breakroom, my breaths coming in sharp, audible gasps while my heart hammered so hard it hurt. Whether they’d actually put eyes on me or not was irrelevant. Since they’d never darkened Buzzby’s Diner before, it was obvious they were here for one purpose only.

Me.

Were they here to kidnap me again?

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Stop it, I thought with a vicious snarl no one was there to hear. Just stop and think.

Run. I had to run. Run, run, run, run…

No.

I had to think.

Deliberately I slowed my breath and forced my internal screaming to stop.

Okay.

So. Marvel was here. With backup. If they were here to take me again, I’d fucking kill them. Hell, I’d kill myself before I would ever allow those bastards to lay a hand on me again. I was no one’s victim. Not anymore.

My phone was in my hand before I’d made a conscious decision. I thumbed the screen, found Romeo’s number, and let it rip.

“Help. Now. Marvel/Radar here at diner. Want to run.”

“Hey, Shiloh.” Dubya stuck his head into the breakroom, the harsh overhead lighting making his frizzy hair look like a clown wig. “We need you out on the floor.”

“Dubya, I’m…” The silent buzz of my phone clutched in my hand distracted me, and I quickly looked down.

“Stay put. Don’t engage. There might be more outside, waiting 4 u to rabbit. DON’T DO IT. B there soon.”

“Hurry.”My fingers were shaking so much I had to type it twice before hitting Send.“Please.”

“Hey, um, Shiloh. Seriously.” Dubya stepped all the way into the breakroom, keeping the door propped open with his foot. “The dinner rush is just getting started and we’ve already got a full house. I need you out there.”

“I know, I just, um…” My breath was shaking as much as my hands, and as I looked up at him I realized I was a hair away from bursting into freaked-out tears. “I can’t go back out there, Dubya.”

My manager blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a man. I was… he was… he…” Again I tried to remind myself to breathe, but it was impossible. Panic was starting to sink its needle-sharp teeth into my soul, shutting down my higher brain function until all I could do was answer the call to hide. “There’s a man I know out there, a very bad man. I can’t go back out there. I just… I can’t go back out there.”

Dubya stared at me uncomprehendingly. “Shiloh, this is your job.”

“I know.”

“That is your function. That’s what you’re supposed to do—be out there taking orders and getting food. If you’re sick, I get it. But even then I need time to call up a replacement.”

---