Page 26 of Scar

Gordon Tremont? Who the fuck was Gordon Tremont? Scar filed the name away to research later. Was that why she hadn’t been surprised to be attacked the night before? Was someoneharassingher?

His fists clenched in anger at the very thought.

As her coffee poured into her travel mug, Tally pulled down a frying pan from the hook on the wall. She hadn’t needed to feel for which pan size she needed either. She’dknownwhich one she needed and had known where it was. Fascinating.

Scar watched as she pulled out a carton of eggs, scallions, mushrooms, and milk from her fridge. She grabbed a cutting board, bowl, and whisk, too. The only time she hesitated was when she reached for a knife from her block on the island. Her fingers grabbed one, paused, and then lifted to feel around over the handles of the other knives.

“I could have sworn…” she said low, talking to herself. Then she lifted her head up. After a single click of her tongue, she faced his general direction again. “You moved my knife, didn’t you? Were you in my apartment last night after I fell asleep? I don’t remember putting my phone on the charger or grabbing for the blanket. I certainly didn’t get up in the middle of the night to put my knife back. So either you were here, did all that, and then leftorI did put my phone on the charger and grabbed the blanket, then you found my knife on the floor when you got here this morning? Which is it?”

She was so fucking smart and quick. He knew her reputation as a chef, but damn, her mind and talents were wasted in a kitchen.

Scar flinched at the thought. An ambitious thought like that made him sound like Alpha. The man was always looking for talent, new blood he could exploit. He often said he hit the jackpot with Scar.

If cooking was what made her happy, then Scarwasan asshole as she claimed, just not for the reason she thought. What had he been thinking, anyway? To put her on a battlefield? Fuck no. His thought had been more absentminded than anything, nothing specific. But it still bothered him that he’d had the thought at all.

Tally was free to live her life and do as she pleased.

“You know,” she snapped, “the least you could do is talk to me. Didn’t Gordon Tremont send you with a message for me? Some warning to sell him my building,” her voice deepened in a mocking tone, “‘or else’.” She pulled the knife she needed out of the block and started dicing up the scallions and mushrooms with impressive skill and precision. “If you’re hoping for a free meal, you’re SOL, asshole. I only give free food to my friends.”

Scar watched as she made an omelet. It was incredible how quick and proficient she was. She rarely used her tongue as she worked. While she brazenly put her back to him as she sat on one of the stools at the island to eat, he did notice that she kept the knife she’d used on the mushrooms and scallions within quick reach.

Good girl.

Tally ate quickly. Was that because of him or because she was already running late? What time did she get to the restaurant anyway? They didn’t open until eleven and she hadn’t walked out of there until after midnight. Why was she going in so early? Didn’t she have staff to help her prep?

When Scar had been doing research on her business, he saw a few one-star reviews by disgruntled customers who were upset that ‘The Blind Chef’ had not been the one to personally cook their meals. Either she’d been out of the restaurant or not scheduled in the kitchen that night, according to the reviews. Was that why she was working herself so hard? Scar could understand not wanting to disappoint her customers, but there still had to be a limit.

Tally finished eating, cleaned up, and then grabbed her coffee mug. At the door, she said over her shoulder, “I’m going to work, asshole. Don’t you dare follow me there. I’m done with whatever game this is.”

Then Tally closed the door behind herself and locked him in her apartment.

Outside, Tally was sipping her coffee as she exited the building. The door had barely closed behind her when she pulled the mug away from her mouth. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” She pointed a finger in Scar’s general direction on the sidewalk. “I don’t know how the fuck you are doing that and I don’t care! I’m late for work! Stay, follow, apparently I can’t stop you either way. My customers are off limits. You hurt anyone to get to me and I’ll serve your ass up as my special this week.”

* * *

[WiseWave620: Did you have a will? You didn’t sign any paperwork when you joined up like the rest of us did. A lot of us who didn’t have family had signed Steel as our Power of Attorney in case something happened, like with Lionheart. I asked Bulldog before he left and he got really pissed at me. Ghost Gibbs-slapped me, called me a moron, and said I should have known better.]

[WiseWave620: Sorry.]

* * *

The morning street was crowded,completely opposite to her walk home the night before. Scar did not follow directly behind Tally, but close enough to interfere if she needed him. The pressing question of who Gordon Tremont was and why she thought he had sent Scar after her was at the forefront of Scar’s mind.

Tally navigated around the people on the sidewalk like she was following a specific path laid out for her. If someone moved too close to her or stopped abruptly, Tally always shifted in time. Like she knew it was going to happen before it happened. She even put her cane out to stop a child who was texting and not paying attention to the crosswalk signals from stepping out into the busy street.

Once at her restaurant, Tally unlocked the front glass doors. Scar had expected her to go in through the back door and frowned when he watched from his place on the sidewalk as she continued into the kitchen, leaving the front open.

Had she done that for him? So that it would signal to her that he’d walked into her restaurant? If it wasn’t for him, if this was something that she did every morning, then she needed to reevaluate her morning routine. It was dangerous to leave the door open.

Scar headed around the back. Had she unlocked that one too? If so, it contradicted everything he was thinking about her up to this point. Someone had trained her to fight. His gut told him it was her father. Tally was proficient, skilled, and quick. It made absolutely no sense for her to leave the front door unlocked, as if she was encouraging someone to come inside.

The back door, as well as the roll up door in her loading dock, were both locked. That was something, at least.

Once inside, he stayed to the shadows of the dining room. She was clearly on a mission and he didn’t want his presence to distract her.Whatshe was doing, though, Scar had no idea.

Tally had something in the crook of her arm, like a bucket or a jar, and was going booth to booth putting whatever was in that container into the cracks of the cushions. Once she got most of the booths, she moved onto the tables. Since the chairs were stacked up on top of the tables, she ducked down, dropping the items under the tables.

Scar’s eyes narrowed. Was thatmoney? He watched as she moved to a table closer to him and then verified that Tally was indeed dropping coins on the floor. What the hell was she doing? Most of the coins were quarters, but there were some nickels, pennies, and dimes sprinkled around too.

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