Rialto (Unbreakable Bonds 8)

“You guys make bachelor party plans. I’m going to check on the food downstairs and call the restaurant,” Ian said as he gathered his mostly empty plate and bottle of untouched water.

“Problems?”

“Nope,” Ian said quickly and then winced inwardly at himself. That sounded guilty. “We’re training some new cooks and trying a new wine distributor. Just want to check on everything.”

Not a lie. That was not a lie, Ian mentally repeated to himself. What he told Rowe was entirely true. Those just weren’t reasons Ian would ever call into the restaurant to check on things.

Rowe offered up a wave and turned to Noah, talking about a drunken club crawl through South Beach.

Ian walked out, breathing a sigh of relief until he got down the stairs. He threw his plate into the trash, checked the food to find that nearly all of it was gone, and grabbed the little box he’d tucked away. Glancing around, he casually strolled down the hall and hurried up a back staircase to the second floor. This was the only way he could get to the IT office without crossing in front of Rowe’s open doorway.

As he reached the hallway, he leaned slightly out and peered carefully around the corner to make sure neither Rowe nor Noah had popped out of Rowe’s office. When he was sure the hallway was clear, Ian silently hurried down the hall and darted into the IT office. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that all three of them were at their desks, either empty plates or nearly empty plates sitting next to their keyboards.

“Ian!” Gidget squealed. “This ravioli is amazing!”

“Shhhhh!” Ian said, wincing. “Rowe can’t know I’m here.”

The sweet woman who looked and talked like a kindergarten teacher covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him with wide eyes. Gidget—or rather, Jennifer Eccleston—had been with Rowe since almost the beginning of Ward Security. She was absolutely brilliant when it came to computers, but then they were all geniuses.

“I’m pretty sure Rowe knows you’re here,” Quinn snickered. “You can’t enter this building with a mountain of ravioli and him not know.”

“I mean in here,” Ian said, his voice barely over a whisper. “I need a favor. But Rowe, Noah, and Andrei can’t know about it. Especially Rowe.”

“What kind of favor?” Gidget asked quietly.

“Does this have to do with…” Quinn started but his voice drifted off.

“Yeah.”

Quinn immediately spun around to face his computer monitors, his head down. He already knew about the attacks on Ian’s restaurant. Shane would have enlisted his help to research the IP addresses of the bastard who posted the bad reviews.

“Is this the secret project you won’t tell us about?” Cole accused, glaring at Quinn over his monitors.

“I’m not talking,” Quinn said.

“I am.” Ian held up the box in his hand. “And I brought a bribe just in case you needed persuading.”

Quinn’s head popped up. “For me too?”

Ian opened the box displaying three individual strawberry-and-chocolate tarts. He didn’t make desserts often. They weren’t his strength, but for Rialto and secrecy, he’d been willing to try something new and special. He offered the box to Quinn, who quietly celebrated as he pulled one delicate tart from the box.

Turning, he offered the box to Gidget, who looked at it while chewing on her bottom lip. She was torn between the treat and her loyalty to Rowe.

“What do you want me to do?” Her voice was cautious and hesitant. Ian felt guilty about asking her. She and Rowe had suffered a falling out a few years ago, with good reason, but Ian doubted that she wanted to cross him again. Rowe wasn’t big on second chances.

“Just review the security footage outside of Rialto.”

Her brow instantly furrowed, confusion clear on her gamine face. “That’s it?”

“And if you find anything, you have to tell me. If I decide to involve Rowe, I want to be the one who tells him.”

“I…don’t know,” she hedged.

“If it’s really bad, you can tell him, but I’m not expecting really bad.”

“Define really bad.”

Ian grinned at the woman. “Jagger-level bad.”

Gidget nodded. “That’s fair.” And she snatched up a dessert.

Ian turned toward Cole. He didn’t know the quiet man as well. Cole looked as if he were a bodyguard with his broad chest and shoulders, but he loved working behind his computer, according to Rowe. “Can I bribe you on retainer for a potential job later?”

“Similar level of sneaky?” Cole asked while eyeing the tart.

“Yes. Nothing to jeopardize your job, I promise.”

Cole nodded and accepted the last dessert.

Ian turned and found that Gidget had pulled a spare chair over to her desk. She patted the seat and smiled at Ian. Dropping down into it, he rolled closer so that he wasn’t easily visible to the door and kept his voice low as he explained everything that had been happening at the restaurant recently: the ICE raid, the bad reviews, and then the report to the health department.