Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

“Do you have Justice’s phone number? Is he busy?” she asked anxiously.

Zander couldn’t hide his perplexed expression as he stared wordlessly back at her.

“Do you or don’t you?” she asked in exasperation. “Do you want me to be shopping all afternoon, or will you call Justice for me?”

The answer to that question was obvious when he immediately dug out his phone, punched a button, and then handed the phone to her.

“Yo man, how’s angel duty going. Any disasters befallen you yet?” Justice asked cheerfully.

“That depends on what you consider a disaster,” Evangeline said sweetly. “I would say inserting one’s foot into one’s mouth might be considered somewhat of a disaster.”

“Oh shit,” Justice said with a groan. “Hello, Evangeline. Everything okay? Why you calling me from Zander’s phone? You should have my number and all the guys’ numbers programmed into your cell.”

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t look. I mean, I asked Zander to call you. I didn’t know I had your number. I barely know how to work the damn thing.”

“Is there something you need?” His voice took on a more serious tone. “Are you in trouble?”

“No, no, well, nothing serious. You remember the restaurant you took me to and ordered that ridiculously expensive steak?”

“Yeah,” he said in obvious puzzlement.

“I can’t find that steak anywhere,” she said in frustration. “Drake wants me to cook tonight and he likes steak, so I thought I’d buy some Wagyu steak and grill it. But I can’t find it anywhere.”

Justice chuckled. “No, of course not. But tell you what. I’ll make a phone call right quick. Have Zander take you back to that restaurant and ask for the chef. He’ll know you’re coming and he’ll hook you up.”

“Really?” Evangeline whispered, in awe of the obvious connections not only Drake had, but his men as well. Was it really that simple and had she wasted an entire hour when a simple phone call would have provided her with instant results?

“Yeah, really. Let me go so I can make that call. By the time you get there, the chef will be expecting you.”

She ended the call and handed the phone back to Zander. “Um, he says to tell you to take me to the restaurant where he took me to eat Wagyu steak the other day.”

“Fuck me. You’re making Drake Wagyu steak tonight and I’m not invited?” Zander asked in a cute, sulky tone.

“No, but if you’re nice to me the rest of the day, I’ll save you some leftover dessert. It’s even better than my cupcakes. Promise.”

Zander groaned. “Drake’s a lucky bastard. I hope he knows that.”

“I hope so too,” Evangeline murmured, low enough for Zander not to hear.

Judging by the arched brow and curious look sent her way, she hadn’t been that fortunate.

“Oh, he knows,” Zander said softly. “Don’t ever think otherwise, Evangeline. If you think he’s this way with other women, you’re wrong. You’re special to him, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”

She wasn’t at all sure what to make of that statement, so she let it go as they began the short walk to the restaurant.

As Justice had told her, when Evangeline and Zander arrived at the restaurant, though it wasn’t yet open for lunch hours, they were immediately let in and led back to the kitchen, where they were met by a middle-aged man she assumed was the chef.

He smiled when he saw her and enfolded her hand between both of his.

“Justice tells me you enjoyed my steak the other day.”

“It was the most wonderful steak I’ve ever had,” Evangeline said honestly. “I wanted to cook it for dinner tonight but haven’t been able to find it anywhere.”

The chef went over to the counter where a butcher-wrapped package lay out, and then he wrapped it in plastic wrap so it wouldn’t leak and handed it to Evangeline.

“The secret is in not undercooking it,” he explained. “These steaks are heavily marbled, so if a person normally eats their steak rare, I would suggest cooking them medium rare. But don’t overcook them either. You want the fat to dissolve just enough and to be warm all the way through. If they aren’t cooked enough, you end up with jellylike consistency from the marbling instead of the juicy succulence you should experience. Overcook it and, well, you have a burned mess that has none of the wonderful taste that it should.”

“Thank you so much,” Evangeline said, smiling radiantly at the kind older man. “I have no doubt dinner will be a wonderful success thanks to your generosity and expert advice. How much do I owe you for the meat?”

The chef blinked and immediately looked discomfited. Zander smoothly inserted himself and said, “Drake has an account with the restaurant. He’ll be billed. You don’t need to worry about it.”

People had accounts with restaurants? For that matter they had relationships with the chefs that made it possible to get what was no doubt proprietary meat from the chef to cook at home?