Page 75 of Cornered

“What kind of a fool plan is that?”

Gray frowned at him. “If you’re expecting rational behavior from drug addicts, then you’ve been spending too much time helping little old ladies and not enough time with the darker elements around here.”

“Shows what you know. I’m 99 percent sure that the grandmother of the guy who owns The Dry Gulch is the one who manages their backroom poker games. Granny Lucas is always carrying. And she’s mean.”

“She’s also too smart for this.” Gray spoke with certainty. “But it could be some of the young guys who think they know what they’re doing but don’t.”

“Stupid mistakes can get smart people killed.”

“Which is why you’re going to stick to Cassie Quinn until we figure out what’s going on.”

THIRTEEN

WHEN GRAY TOLD CASSIEthat Donovan was going to be her shadow, she hadn’t been completely surprised. Everyone was convinced that someone was out to get her, and it was definitely freaking her out.

Having Donovan around on Sunday had been nice, but she’d been so busy that she’d barely had time to do more than nod in his direction.

Now it was Monday. Her kitchen was far from being back to normal, but they’d bluffed their way through the weekend by offering the guests an “exclusive” alfresco dining experience. It had been an unparalleled success.

Her kitchen.In all the chaos of the weekend, Bronwyn had made time to offer Cassie a permanent position as the chef at Hideaway, and it had taken an extraordinary amount of self-control for her not to immediately say yes.

She wanted the job. But could she stay if someone was so determined to get her off the premises that they would steal things, vandalize the kitchen, possibly stab her tire, and then try to cause a car wreck?

She forced the questions and doubts from her mind and went to work. Her staff was on fire tonight, and even with the inconveniences of working in less-than-optimal conditions,they were killing it. Even the servers had gotten in on the action by delivering beverages to the chefs. They made to-go cups filled with sweet tea and the house special that Cassie had introduced on her first night—honey lemonade. They’d decorated each cup with the names of each chef and line cook, and included little slogans like “You’re the best” and “Foodies forever” and her personal favorite, “The chef is always right.”

She plated her last dish and accepted a refill on lemonade. “Thank you.” She took a long drink and watched the server as he returned to the kitchen. He looked so familiar, but she couldn’t place him. If she decided to take the job permanently, she’d have to find a better way to interact with the servers. She didn’t like not knowing everyone’s names, but in the month she’d been here, she’d only interacted with a handful of the front of house staff.

She stifled a yawn. Maybe she should have gone with tea instead of lemonade. The caffeine jolt might have helped her power through. Although based on how heavy her head and neck were feeling at the moment, there wasn’t enough caffeine in the universe to keep her going for much longer.

“Cassie! One of the guests would like a photo.”

She blinked several times. Was the room spinning? She focused on the server who’d made the request. “Give me a second to change my jacket.”

Cassie was a neat chef. It was a point of pride to keep her chef whites white. But that didn’t mean she didn’t look a little rough around the edges by the end of the night, which was why she always kept a sparkling clean chef’s jacket at the ready for the always photo-hungry guests. The guests weren’t allowed to post the photos on social media during their stay. But that didn’t mean they didn’t post when they left. And she wanted to represent The Haven well.

She fumbled with her buttons as she walked to the back of the kitchen.

Donovan, her perpetual shadow, followed her. He’d done a good job of being unobtrusive. But she was starting to chafe at his constant presence since the tension between them continued to increase. Had they made up? Were they back together? She honestly didn’t know. They’d been interrupted before they’d had a chance to define the relationship. And she needed that conversation to happen sooner than later.

“You’re tired.” Donovan’s observation carried nothing but concern.

“Yeah.” She wanted to say more, but her mouth wasn’t working quite right.

“Is it always this busy on Mondays?”

“No.” Mondays at The Haven were typically the slowest night of the week. But tonight she’d been booked solid from six to nine. She got the final button off and Donovan helped her take off the jacket. When she reached for the photo jacket, all crisp and professional looking, he took it from her and held it out.

“Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re allowed to be tired, Cassie. You aren’t normally here eighteen hours a day the way you’ve been since Saturday. You haven’t had a chance to catch your breath.”

She rubbed her forehead. “You’ve been putting in even longer hours. Why aren’t you about to fall asleep on the floor?” Because she seriously was. She swayed and bumped into the wall. “Whoa.”

Donovan was in front of her. When had he moved in front of her?

He took over the buttons, and she let him. “Cassie? Are you okay?”

She blinked a few more times and the room stopped tilting sideways. “I don’t think I realized how tired I am.” She had to concentrate hard to form the words, and she wasn’t sure if they were coming out quite right.

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