Page 9 of Crushing Clover

I hadn’t had any preconceived notions of what their restaurant would look like, but pulling up to a red-brick, gothic church was a complete surprise. It was old, but in good repair, and there was plenty of parking.

The sign out front read, Cygnet.

“Your restaurant is in a church?” I asked.

“The church is our restaurant,” Lucky said proudly. “Cool, huh?”

Part of me was hoping to see the restaurant, even though I shouldn’t have cared, but he brought me through the back entrance to an office that was away from the action.

The space was utilitarian, but big enough for a desk with two visitor chairs, and a couch along one wall that had seen better days.

Everything was scrupulously tidy. Stacks of paper held together with binder clips were stacked at intervals on the desk but left plenty of room to work.

The filing cabinet didn’t even have anything stacked on top of it.

“Do you think she’ll be safe in here?” Lucky asked when the other guys showed up moments later. “I can come check on her once in a while. The two of you will be too busy to do it.”

“I’m not sure what else to do with her, but I’m also not sure we should leave her in here alone.” Saint John’s mouth flattened into a firm line. “What if she makes a mess? What if she takes off?”

What on earth did he think I was going to do? Chew up their paperwork? Piddle on the floor? Steal their secret oatmeal cookie recipe?

Without a word, Rush reached into his pocket and pulled out an odd-looking pair of metal handcuffs.

“Good thinking,” Saint John said with a nod of approval. “I was only planning to lock her in here, but this is better.”

“I’m not planning to leave the room, let alone try to escape,” I assured them. “Where would I go?”

“Back to your old life in Ohio?” Lucky leaned on the doorframe.

“I have nothing to go back to.” I frowned at them. “I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me, and I walked away with nothing even before all this happened. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Saint John took the cuffs from Rush and sat me on the couch.

He went down on one knee and attached one of the cuffs to my ankle.

If it wasn’t for the malice in his dark eyes, it might have felt sexy.

He wrapped his hand around my ankle above the cuff and glared into my eyes.

Because they weren’t known for their sense of self-preservation, my girly parts tingled.

“You stay put and keep your mouth shut.”

“I can’t go anywhere, and there’s no one to talk to in here, so…”

He gave me a warning look as he squeezed my ankle, and I had to force myself not to read anything into it. His hand was hot and made me feel deliciously controlled.

“Woman!” he snapped.

I looked up into his cruel eyes, then away again. Why did he have to be such a jerk?

“Do you understand me?”

Rather than reply, I nodded. I didn’t trust myself not to snark at him, and he already wanted to get rid of me. If he sent me back to Warren, who knew where I’d end up next?

He attached the other cuff to something under the couch, then rose and ushered the other two out, slamming the door closed behind all three of them.

The cuff was too short to allow me to stretch out on the couch and sleep. Instead, I huddled at one end and slept mostly sitting up. When I woke, my shirt dress had ridden up and my legs were cold. I tugged it back down the best I could and went back to sleep.

Much later, the door clicked open, and my pulse kicked up. Which of them would it be?

Instead, a woman made her way in, juggling purse, tote bag, phone, keys, and a takeout coffee cup.

She was young, pretty, and her brown eyes went wide with surprise when her gaze fell on me from across the room.

“Well, shit. Arabella!” The woman stared at me like she was pretty sure she was hallucinating. “Why are you…”

I stared back at her, not sure what to say. Saint John had ordered me not to speak to anyone, but wouldn’t not speaking to her make her more suspicious? They hadn’t told me what to do in this situation.

“I’m not Arabella.” I gave her a friendly smile. “Sorry. I’ve heard I look like her.”

“Oh.” She blinked at me several times as though trying to process what she was seeing.

Not sure what else to do, I said, “I’m…Kate.” Hopefully my hesitation hadn't been too obvious.

“I’m Spring. I do the books here.” She watched me expectantly, brows raised. Even in her sweats and bleach-stained T-shirt, with her dark hair piled on top of her head in a haphazard knot, she was beautiful.

“I’m a friend of Lucky’s,” I said airily.

“I’m staying with him for a little while until I can get my shit together.

” I laughed, doing my best to be casual.

She relaxed until her gaze landed on my ankle, where it was, of course, still cuffed to the couch.

Her eyes went so wide I could see white all around her irises.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. “I can call the cops if they’re keeping you here.”

I snorted. “Them? Keep me against my will? Oh, it’s not like that. I lost a bet,” I said smoothly, not having any other excuse as to why I might be ankle-cuffed to furniture in the restaurant’s office.

Why hadn’t they left me at their house?

Humiliation prickled through me. Uncertainly, we stared at each other.

She dropped her bags on the desk and smiled awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have some paperwork to catch up on. I don’t usually come in today, but I’m behind as it is.”

“I’ll try not to talk your ear off then.”

She settled in, opening ledgers and scratching away with a pencil. Her methods seemed very old-school. I had the urge to ask her why she wasn’t using a computer program, but it was none of my business.

It was so weird being in a situation like this without a phone to use as a shield. I could have been scrolling through social media or playing a game, but instead I was trying not to watch her and trying not to look hopelessly bored. My scrolling thumb felt like it was going through withdrawal.

I took a moment to be grateful that I had the opportunity to be bored. Boredom and a plush couch were a much better fate than the torture and squalor I could have been living with.

Despite the company, I soon found myself dozing off again. The office was air conditioned, but even so, heat from the kitchen invaded, making me as toasty as the fresh bread I could smell.

After maybe thirty minutes, the door swung open again and Saint John strode in. He froze partway into the room, realizing we weren’t alone.

“What are you doing here, Spring?” His tone was neutral, but his eyes were suspicious.

“Well, hello to you, too. I was behind on payroll, so I figured I’d come in today to catch up. Am I in the way?”

The frustration rolling off him was palpable, but he said, “No, of course not. Take all the time you need.”

He gave me a sharp look, and I shrugged helplessly.

It wasn’t as though I’d had any control over his accountant or bookkeeper or whatever showing up unexpectedly.

He glanced down and looked at the cuff on my ankle, which was completely visible, even from the door.

Again, not my fault. He’d put it there in the first place.

If he’d wanted it hidden, he should have thrown a blanket on it or something.

Rather than going back to the kitchen, he hovered, and soon she rose and gathered her things. “Actually, I’ve got everything I need. I think I’m going to finish up at home.”

“That’s not necessary,” he assured her.

“Oh, I know. I’ll be more comfortable at my kitchen table.” She gave him a tight smile and slid the paperwork into her tote. “Goodbye, Kate. Nice to meet you.”

She left and closed the door behind her. Saint John was practically vibrating.

“You introduced yourself to her?”

“What else could I do? I used a fake name, at least.”

His glare was so fierce, I was amazed it didn’t burn dual holes through my body. “You weren’t supposed to speak to anyone. That was one of the only two rules I gave you.”

“She was going to call the cops. She saw the cuff on my ankle and freaked out—and that was after she freaked out because she thought I was Arabella.”

He snorted.

“I think she assumed you’d kidnapped me or something.”

“For what?” he snapped. “The last thing we need is a woman underfoot.”

And yet, they were going to be stuck with me as long as I could possibly manage to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut. I panicked and didn’t know what else to do.”

He paced, clenching and unclenching his hands in frustration. “We don’t have time for this. We don’t have time for you,” he said, quietly but vehemently. “Every time I think I’m almost out, he pulls me back in.”

I pressed my lips together sympathetically. “Family can be so toxic.” Or so I’d heard.

“Let me be clear—there will never be a period of time where I want your input or commentary on anything. I’m not looking for a confidante or a sounding board. Not another fucking word out of that mouth.”

I opened my mouth to say I understood, but the warning look he gave me was enough to shut me up.

He sat down at the desk Spring had so recently vacated and rubbed his face with a sigh. “I gave you two simple rules, and you couldn’t even follow them for a couple of hours.”

When he said it like that, it sounded bad.

“Come here.”

I stood and took one shuffling step forward before remembering I couldn’t exactly comply. The cuff dug into my ankle unpleasantly and the couch didn’t budge.

Grumbling to himself, he walked over to me and fished the cuff key out of his pocket. He uncuffed the couch rather than my ankle.

“What do you say to me?”

“I’m sorry I spoke to her,” I began, “but I really thought I was making things easier for you. I didn’t want her to call the police.”