water into their glasses. “Can I get you anything to drink besides water? Iced tea or soda?”
“Lilian Powell?” He kept his tone soft, but still meant business.
Lilian shook her head. “I’m sorry, my last name is Quinn. Wrong girl.” She tapped the menus on the table. “I’ll be back to take your order in a few.”
Before they could say anything else, she walked away, checking on the other diners and refilling water glasses until she made it back inside, hurrying into the kitchen to escape the prying eyes of the two strangers .
“What’s the matter, chica?” Maria tossed a basket of onion rings into the fryer.
Maria was one of her closest friends, as close as she could be while Lilian still retained her carefully guarded secrets.
“There are two men in my section who’re just freaky. I think they might be government agents,” Lilian replied.
“Government? Cool! Bet they make some major money. Are they cute?” Maria asked as she flipped burgers on the grill.
Leave it to Maria to think of money and good looks rather than wonder why they were here.
“I didn’t pay attention.” Lilian checked her watch.
Damn, still thirty minutes to go before clocking out.
“Well, take a peek when you go back out and let me know, girl! I ain’t getting any younger!” Maria shooed her out.
Those men gave her the heebie-jeebies. Still, Lilian couldn’t hide in here or they’d become suspicious. On her way out, she picked up a pitcher of ice water in one hand, a pitcher of iced tea in the other, and turned to use her hip to open the door. Motioning to one of the other waitresses that she had the iced tea, the door flung open. She cried out as she stumbled. She turned her body to try and catch her balance, but collided into what felt like a brick wall.
There were a few gasps of shock and some masculine guffaws. Wondering what or whom she’d collided with she turned and stared into the face of the biker she’d noticed earlier. He was soaked. The water and the iced tea drenched the front of him, from chest down.
At least she had a better view of him.
He had a masculine face with a dimple in his left cheek, passably handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy way, and yes, the dark hair. He was tall, probably a good four inches taller than her, and from the way the now wet t-shirt clung to his torso, a nicely built frame, but not an overzealous bodybuilder. He grabbed onto her to keep her from falling, and she could feel the strength in his hands, though his hold was gentle.
“That’ll cool ya off, brother,” a man called out and laughed, joined by the others of the gang.
A low growl emanated from the drenched biker, too low for anyone else to hear, but it rumbled through the man and into her. Lilian’s eyes widened in shock, mortified. She jerked back from the man, or tried to, stammering out an apology.
“Please, I’m terribly sorry. I’ll pay for your meal, of course. I didn’t expect the door to not be there.” Her words tripped and stumbled over her tongue and she kept trying to pull away from him, but he refused to let her go.
“If you stop a minute,” he drawled, “I can let go of you without you flying down the street.”
Lilian fell silent, blinking in surprise. It was true. His hold on her kept her upright, but she kept pulling away and if he did let go of her, she would go flying just from her momentum. She glanced up at him, but with his sunglasses on, couldn’t see his eyes. There was a wry twist to his lips, not quite a smile, but not a grimace either.
Lilian went still and he let go of her upper arms.
“There,” he said.
She stared at her reflection in the sunglasses. He lifted a brow at her, the corner of his lips tilting up into a smile. She blushed and backed away a couple of steps.
“Don’t scare her off, little brother,” another of the gang said. “I’m hungry and thirsty.”
“The way she’s looking at him, you’d think he just told her she’s on the menu,” said another.
Lilian looked away from the man in front of her and made a quick, visual foray around the outdoor section. The biker gang took up residence at the empty tables, her appointed station now filled to capacity. Dismayed and nervous, she snapped her gaze back at the one in front of her.
“Could we have some menus?”
Lilian blinked, nodded, turned and ran back into the diner as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. Hounds of hell, no, but the guffaws of the biker gang followed her inside.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him looking toward her, having not moved from the spot he stood before. Uneasy, she looked away and headed to the front desk.
As if the two suited men hadn’t been enough, now she had to deal with this?
It wasn’t a personal threat she sensed. If Lilian had been in some form of danger from him, she’d have known. Still, something about him made her feel uneasy. What? Because he was in a motorcycle gang, or maybe because he was a stranger and strangers, especially strange men, made her uncomfortable?
Opting to err on the side of caution, she handed the menus off to one of the other waitresses, trading with her so Lilian could watch over the interior tables.
Thirty minutes later, with her shift over, she removed her apron and tossed it into the hamper. She picked up her small purse and clocked out. With a final wave to Maria and fellow waitresses, she used the back door with the hopes of escaping the notice of the suited men and the bikers. Unfortunately, her plan didn’t work so well. As Lilian stepped out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk along Main Street, one of the suited men stepped into her path and stopped her.
“Miss Quinn.”
Lilian heard the wry tone in his voice as he said her name and knew he doubted her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“We’d like to speak to you. In private.”
The second suited man crossed the street to join them. Lilian knew if she went anywhere with them, she’d disappear.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time. I have some errands to run.”
“I don’t think you understand.” The man reached into his jacket’s inner pocket.
Lilian tensed, wary, and shifted her stance so the two men couldn’t position themselves to box her in.
The man withdrew what looked like a white card and turned it to show her a photograph of her as a child, after the “incident”. The blood rushed from her head and a sinking feeling filled her gut.
“Maybe you’d like to try again with your name?” he asked.
Lilian glanced up from the photograph to the man. He still wore his sunglasses, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to read his mind. Very carefully, and with the lightest of touches,
