Page 72 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

Another groan escapes me before I lift my head and stare back at him through the mirror. “You really wanna come?”

“Yes.”

My face scrunches up, but I give in. “Fiiine.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t look too proud of yourself.”

With a faux gasp that turns my insides to mush, he clutches at his chest. “I would never. If I did, I have a feeling that you’d find a way to knock me down a few pegs.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I quip.

He laughs. “Let me go change. I’ll meet you in five.”

“Okay.”

After another quick peck to my cheek, he disappears from my room, and I’m left with a smile. One that seems to happen a lot when he’s around.

But then it’s replaced with a frown because I know it won’t last. And it’ll be all my fault when it reaches its expiration date.

23

Jack

Embry: We need to talk. Meet me at Dottie’s in 30. Come alone.

The foreboding anticipation filters through my veins as I scan the message for the hundredth time. We need to talk, never sounds good. Whether it’s from a previous boss, your current employer, a doctor, or your significant other, it doesn’t exactly bode well.

Yet, here I am. Parked outside the ’50s diner while staring at the entrance like it belongs to a haunted house instead of a place that sells pancakes and French toast. Twisting the wedding ring on my left hand, I get out of my car then head inside Dottie’s. I’ve only been here once before, though it feels like a lifetime ago. The owner is a redheaded Southern woman with short, curly hair and an attitude that’s about as spicy as cayenne pepper. I just hope she doesn’t remember me.

The last time I was here, I almost got into a fistfight with Kingston. Ace had begged me to meet her yet somehow failed to mention she’d be bringing along her boyfriend-slash-mob boss whom I’d been following because of his connection to Burlone Allegretti. He was one of the most renowned human traffickers before Kingston murdered him and I helped cover it up.

Who would’ve thought we’d end up partnering together to bring the bastard down after nearly throwing punches over pancakes and eggs?

A little bell dings above the door as I push it open. Dottie approaches with a dirty rag in hand almost instantly.

“Hey, stranger. Ace ain’t here.”

So much for her not remembering me.

I start, “Yeah, I know––”

“Why don’t ya grab yourself a seat. I’ll be with ya in a minute,” she tells me.

“I’m actually looking for someone––”

“Guy in a suit?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s right back there, sugar.” She points to a corner booth in the back of the diner where Embry is sitting with his head down and a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks…numb. The realization only adds fuel to the flames of anxiety that are licking at my insides.

“You gonna want coffee?” Dottie asks.

“No, thank you.”

“Anything to eat?”