“Sure thing,” I said, scooping up the plates on my table. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
She didn’t say anything, just drummed her fingers on the table as she surveyed the room.
After I dropped the dirty plates in the bin that Tiny kept in the hall, I headed to the order counter and leaned in close, lowering my voice. “I’ve got an order for a piece of pie, but the customer wouldn’t pick what kind. Just said to bring one. There’s something off about her.”
Tiny’s brow furrowed as he walked over to the counter. “Which one?”
“She’s sitting at a dirty table in the middle of the room.”
“Why’d she sit at a dirty table?” he asked, lowering his voice. “There’s several clean ones in the front.”
“Good question,” I said. “Do you know her?”
He squinted, making me think I should encourage him to make an optometrist appointment. Then he pushed out a sigh and shook his head. “Nope. Got no idea who she is.” He cocked his head and gave me a pointed look. “You feel unsafe?”
“Kind of,” I admitted. Months ago, I would have been too embarrassed to say so, but I’d learned there was no shame in admitting I needed help. I had too many big enemies in these parts to refuse help. Only this woman didn’t look like she was associated with Bart Drummond or his wife. If she was an enemy, it was far more likely she was connected to the group of people who’d tried to build a drug empire alongside Todd Bingham’s. I’d thought they were all gone, dead and buried, but maybe one of them had popped up like a weed. “But what can she do here in Max’s dining room?”
“Plenty,” he said with a hard look in his eyes. “It only takes a second, Carly. A gun. A knife.”
I gulped, partially in terror, but also because Tiny hadn’t given his response a moment’s thought. He’d said it like he had personal experience.
“You want me to take care of her?” he asked.
“No,” I said, my stomach flopping. “I’m sure I’m overreacting.”
“You ain’t one to overreact, girl.”
“Nevertheless,” I said. I’d stared down Todd Bingham on more than one occasion. I could handle this woman. I gave him a smile. “I need to clean off her table. You pick out which piece of pie to give her, and I’ll grab it after I drop off her dirty dishes.”
He grunted, then turned away, not exactly an expression of approval, but maybe one of acceptance.
Grabbing a fresh dishcloth, I headed back to her table to pick up the dirty dishes. “I’ll just clean off your table, then bring out your pie and your coffee.”
She didn’t answer, instead pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her front pocket.
“You can’t smoke in here,” I said as sweetly as possible. I really didn’t want to make an enemy of this woman if she wasn’t already one.
Ignoring me, she pulled a cigarette out of the package and lifted a lighter to the tip, striking up a flame.
Ordinarily, I’d take care of these types of situations myself. One good thing that had come out of my seven months in Drum was that I’d learned to stand up for myself. I’d become assertive and strong, but less than a minute with this woman had made me feel like Carly was being stripped away, leaving Caroline naked and exposed.
I lifted a helpless gaze to Max.
Worry filled his eyes, but then the enforcer took over. He walked around the end of the bar and headed right over, stopping at the edge of the table as she began to smoke cigarette.
“You can’t smoke in here,” he said in a low tone that held a bit of edge.
Lifting her gaze, she seemed to take him in, then blew a puff of smoke up into his face. “You Max Drummond?”
“That’s me,” he answered without hesitation.
My terror instantly returned, Tiny’s words echoing in my head: It only takes a second. What if she was really here for Max?
She took another puff from her cigarette, then blew the smoke at him again before stubbing it out in a smear of mashed potatoes on the dirty plate. “Nice place you got here.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I ordered me a piece of pie and a coffee a good five minutes ago, and not only do I not have either, but I’m surrounded by dirty dishes.”
It hadn’t been five minutes, three at the most, and she’d chosen the dirty table. But I held my tongue.
“If you don’t like the service, feel free to leave,” Max said.
“Now, what kind of customer service is that?” she taunted. “Do you threaten all of your customers?”
“Nobody’s threatenin’ anybody, but I am tellin’ you to leave,” Max said, lifting his brow. “Now.”
“You’ll be sorry,” she grumbled, pulling out a new cigarette and lighting it. Then she got to her feet and stood toe to toe with Max, the top of her head not even reaching his chin. She looked up at him. “What goes around comes around, boy. You’d do best to remember that.”
She took a long drag and blew the smoke in his face again before turning and walking out.
Max’s gaze followed her to the door, and he was still looking at it when he said, “Who the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know and neither does Tiny. I was hoping you’d know her.”
He pushed out a sigh, then turned to head back to the bar. “Well, I guess she’s gone now.”
I reached down to pick up the dirty plates, noticing a slip of folded paper. My heart lurched as I opened the note and read it.
We’ve got some unfinished business, Carly Moore. I’ll be in touch.
L
Max was wrong. The mystery woman was only getting started.
Chapter Two
I took my break at three, worrying that the mystery woman, L, would be waiting to ambush me when I walked out of the tavern. I wasn’t sure if she was the one whom I’d seen in the parking lot earlier, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I held my pepper spray in my hand as I went out the front door, hoping for witnesses if she was waiting.
But the coast was clear, and I walked to the library a block and a half from Max’s. Since the town and surrounding area had limited internet access, there was always a long waiting list for the library’s three computers, but I’d reserved a spot ahead of time. The librarian and I were friendly, and Carnita was happy to accommodate my work schedule, including letting me eat my lunch while I worked, which was definitely against the rules.
“Good afternoon, Carly,” she whispered as I signed in on the log-in sheet at her desk. “I’ve got number two all ready for you.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
“What are you working on today?” she asked eagerly.
“That’s a good question,” I said. “I think I’ve about exhausted my resources.”
For the past six months or so, I’d spent several days a week researching Max’s father, Bart Drummond. The Drummonds had supposedly founded the town two hundred years ago, give or take a few decades, and they’d essentially run it ever since. Even though Bart wasn’t as wealthy as he’d once been, given his lumber business had been closed for years and his moonshine business was less profitable now that it was legal, he still had plenty of power.