Page 68 of Never Submit

Luckily for me, I don’t have to wait long before I catch a look at a blonde with a riot of curls spilling out from her messy bun.

Carrigan pulls up short and her gaze meets mine, conflicting emotions charging across her face. “You couldn’t have called?” she finally says.

Her velvet-over-steel Southern belle voice frees my tears immediately.

“I’m sorry. I should have. You’re right.” My voice trembles.

She might tell me to get the fuck out. Or tell me this isn’t the time or the place for whatever it is I want to say to her.

But Carrigan is Carrigan, no matter what happens, and she runs to me in long strides before crushing me in her thin arms.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, missy,” she whispers against my ear.

My arms band around her in return and I’m not sure which one of us wins the contest of who can hug the hardest. But we’re both in the running for the longest embrace because I can’t let her go. I’m not willing to do it yet.

She’s shaking, and I draw her tremble into me along with her scent, the perfume Carrigan always wears like some kind of warm amber and vanilla shield against the world.

“What happened?” she asks. “I need to know what happened.”

It’s too unbelievable for me to tell her. “Would you believe I went out for milk and got lost?”

She shakes her head, squeezing once more in a clear warning before she leans back to look at me. “Nope, not one bit. You are going to have to throw those excuses in the garbage.” Her gaze promises there will be no escape from her interrogation.

Someone at one of the tables calls for her attention with a snap of his fingers.

“And you brought a friend?” Carrigan faces Flora, absolutely ignoring the customer.

“This is Flora. She’s—”A spy, an acquaintance?“She’s keeping me company.”

“You have no idea what kind of a tizzy you threw people into here. Rudy has been crazy without you, struggling to find good help.” Carrigan’s hand goes to her hip. “It’s been pure chaos and that’s just on the work front. Do you have any idea how crazy Aspen and I have been, worrying about you? You’re turning me gray before my time.”

She reaches up to tug at a particularly curly curl around her face.

“This shit is gonna have to be dealt with, Ren. I swear to God. I am not going to let you out of my sight ever again.”

Well, that poses a problem.

I force a smile on my face to banish the rest of her fears, but the lump in my throat isn’t going anywhere. Especiallysince the last time I saw her, Dax had shifted into wolf form and trashed her place.

“Not to mention the customers are asking about you. Seriously, like, the woman at table five has been requesting you specifically every time she comes in and she won’t accept it when I tell her you haven’t shown up for work.”

Carrigan casts a critical eye down my front but finding me in one piece isn’t satisfying her.

“What woman at table five?” I ask.

And how the hell am I supposed to say goodbye to Carrigan? It’s impossible. Like cutting off one of my arms and living without it.

Carrigan points, and I force myself to follow her gaze across the crowded floor. At this time of day, the regulars are manning their posts, drinking until they practically float out of here. If they ever leave. Only a few of the tables are taken up by people willing to try Rudy’s cooking, and one of them, the one at table five, is familiar.

It takes me half a second to place her, and when I do my eyes go wide, my stomach dropping strangely.

It’s her. The woman who gave me a ride.

“Cocoa Puffs,” I blurt out.

She had them all over her van. What was her name? Shit, it’s right there on the tip of my tongue?—

Anna.

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