Page 6 of Insatiable Hunger

Chapter Four

Zeke Alvarez

“The shipment is set to arrive middle of next week, Mr. Alvarez.”

Jordan, my Head of Imports, is sitting in front of my desk, face glued to the MacBook in his lap as he updates me on business. He’s about thirty, too nice for his own good, and tends to get on my nerves more often than not, but he does his job well. He’s been with the company for going on eight years now, starting fresh out of college. At times, he’s slightly awkward, but is mostly a confident guy around the clients, and he’s highly respected amongst them.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the headache I can feel coming on. “That’s what you said last week and the week before that.”

“Yes, sir.” Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose into place, he closes his computer, setting it on my desk before meeting my gaze. “There was a delay with the supplier in the Middle East, but it’s been resolved now. It should arrive on time.”

I nod my head just as the phone on my desk rings. Pressing my finger into the speakerphone button, I say, “Yes, Daphne?”

“Your ten o’clock is here, sir. Sheriff Radley.”

“Send him back.” Glancing across the desk, I mutter, “Thank you, Jordan. Please keep me posted regarding the shipments.”

Giving me a terse nod, he stands, tucking his Mac under his arm. A soft knock sounds at the door moments before it pushes open. My assistant, Daphne, pokes her head in, the same cheery grin she always wears on her face as she looks between Jordan and I. “Hi, Mr. Alvarez. Jordan.” She steps aside, letting Enzo walk by. “Can I get you three anything? Water, soda?”

“I’m actually leaving,” Jordan murmurs before he shuffles past her.

When she peers over at me questioningly, I reply, “No, thank you. That’ll be all, Daphne.”

“Thank you, Daphne,” Enzo says, his charming southern accent laid on thick. “Tell Sam I say hello.”

My assistant blushes and coughs out something along the lines of a giggle before leaving the room in a hurry. I don’t know any woman in the city of Savannah who doesn’t have some sort of attraction to our sheriff.

“How’s it going?” he asks, taking a seat as he drops a brown paper bag on top of the desk.

Enzo Radley is the sheriff in town. Before him, it was his father, Arthur. I’ve known the Radleys for as long as I’ve been in Savannah, which is going on about thirteen years now.

Dragging a hand down my beard, I reply, “Not too bad.”

Enzo hands me my food while he opens his own, taking a bite out of the greasy burger. It’s a damn miracle he doesn’t spill all over himself. We make an effort to get together for lunch at least once a week, if our schedules allow.

Pulling up my emails, I go through them, responding while I dig in. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until this very moment.

We make mindless small talk about this or that while we finish our food, but it isn’t until Enzo takes his last bite, tossing the crumpled-up wrapper into the soggy bag, that he says what I know he’s been dying to say since he walked in. “So, Saturday was interesting.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s wearing an amused expression, nor do I have to guess what he’s referencing.

“It was alright.”

“Interesting staff they had.” This time, the smirk is evident in his words.

Still, I don’t bite. “Mmhmm.”

“Did you know your stepson was a dancer?”

There it is.

It takes all my willpower, but I don’t let my fingers falter on the keys as I’m typing out an email response and I don’t let anything show on my face. Of course, I knew Elias was a dancer. I don’t say that, though. Nobody knows the story of how he and Ireallymet, and I plan to keep it that way.

“I did not,” I mutter. “I don’t make it a habit of keeping tabs on my wife’s son.”That’s a bold-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one.

He must sense this is a topic I’m not willing to discuss, because he sighs, moving on. “So, what’s the latest with things?”

My eyes flit to the time in the upper right corner of my computer. “Thanks for lunch, Enzo, but I’m really quite busy. Have a meeting in twenty minutes that I need to prepare for.”

He raises his hands, feigning innocence, but understanding what I’m getting at. “God, someone’s in a mood today.” Standing up, he grumbles, “I’ll just see you later, then.”

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