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"It was an accident," I protested, still clutching the napkins. "She grabbed my arm while I was holding the cup—"
"How dare you blame the customer?" Helena's eyes flashed with fury. "That's it. You're fired, effective immediately. Give me your apron."
My stomach dropped to my feet. "But Helena, it was an accident—"
"Now," she snapped, hand outstretched. "And don't expect a reference."
With trembling fingers, I untied my apron and handed it over. The entire café was watching, some customers looking uncomfortable, others openly curious. Mrs. Kazinsky was still making dramatic noises about her ruined belongings.
"I'll be speaking to Marco about this," I said, my voice barely audible, even knowing I wouldn't. Marco was a sweetheart and looking after his wife Isabella full time. He didn't need my troubles.
Helena's smile was cold. "Go ahead. Who do you think he'll believe? Me or the irresponsible boy who just assaulted our best customer?"
I grabbed my bag from the back room, trying desperately to hold back tears until I was outside. The moment I pushed through the door into the afternoon sunlight, my vision blurred. I stumbled to a nearby bench and collapsed onto it, my hands shaking so badly I could barely pull out my phone.
It was only 2:15. Novo wouldn't be expecting to pick me up for another hour and fifteen minutes. I stared at his name in my contacts, finger hovering over the text button. What would I even say? 'Hi, new husband I barely know, I just got fired because I'm a complete disaster?’
Taking a deep breath, I started typing.
Hi. I'm done early. Something happened. Don't rush though.
I hit send and immediately regretted it. God, I sounded pathetic. He was probably busy with his club stuff anyway. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to pull myself together. I could walk home. It wasn't that far, and the fresh air might help clear my head. I sent him another text saying I would walk and see him at home.
I stood up, shoving my phone back in my pocket, when a sound made me look up. An engine revved loudly—too loudly—and I turned to see a black sedan accelerating directly toward me, jumping the curb where I stood.
Time seemed to slow. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even scream as the car barreled toward me. This was it. I was going to die on a sidewalk outside the coffee shop that had just fired me.
Chapter five
Novo
I was already headingback to the café when I got Matty's text. It had been a frustrating few hours. I'd spoken to Digger, Cruise, and my uncle about club business and the current problems surrounding the businesses we ran.
We needed to discuss our four prospects and decide who we were going to give a cut to. As far as I was concerned Risk and Tik Tac were solid, but the other two weren't up to much.
Daisy, my uncle's wife, was having problems with some of the sweetbutts who thought they had the same rights as old-ladies, but that was nothing new and I was all up in my head aboutMatty, more than I cared about what Cindy had done to get in Tex's pants.
Besides, I was eager to avoid Sophie, who had marked me as her ticket in.
I'd deliberately left early so I could grab a coffee and wait for Matty. See what he was like at work. I didn't know why I felt so protective already. It wasn't part of the plan. This was about revenge, not about actually being a husband.
I'd just parked across the street when I saw him stand from the bench he was sitting on. His shoulders were hunched, his face tense, and even from this distance, I could tell he'd been crying. My body tensed instinctively. Something had happened.
Then I saw the black sedan and how it sped up. It jumped the curb, engine roaring, heading straight for Matty, who stood frozen like a deer in headlights. I was out of my truck in an instant, boots hitting the pavement at a run.
"MATTY," I roared, sprinting toward him.
At the last possible second, I tackled him, wrapping my body around his smaller frame as we hit the ground and rolled. The car missed us by inches, its side mirror clipping my shoulder with enough force to send pain shooting down my arm. The sedan screeched away, tires smoking as it veered back onto the road and sped off.
"Are you okay?" I demanded, my hands moving over Matty's body, checking for injuries. His eyes were wide with shock, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "Matty, talk to me."
"I-I'm okay," he stammered, though his whole body was trembling.
I helped him sit up, keeping one arm around his shoulders. People were gathering now, voices raised in alarm. Someone was calling the police.
"Did you see the license plate?" a bystander asked.
I shook my head, my focus still on Matty. "Black sedan, tinted windows. That's all I caught." I turned back to my husband. "Can you stand?"