Che (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 2)

I had a gun, a knife, and a pink eye-gouger that I'd only grumbled at for a minute for the overly girly look of it. I also had a necklace tucked under my shirt that would shriek if you pressed the button on it. It was designed for women who had to walk alone at night, and wanted a way to alert others that something was wrong. I would use it to signal everyone else that we needed backup.

The inside of the restaurant was more upscale than the exterior let on with wide-plank dark wood floors, black booths lining the longest wall, and an assortment of two-to-six-seater tables down the center and up toward the front beside the register.

In the back, there were swinging doors into the kitchen. Each time one of the servers would go through, there was the clattering of pans and a chorus of voices before the doors settled again.

"Table for two," Che said, giving the hostess a small smile, putting on the 'normal, happy couple just out on a date' charade a lot better than I was doing as I whipped my head around, looking for all possible exits, even though Arty had already showed us all of them in the blueprints.

"Just take a breath," Che whispered in my ear.

"What if they see me on the cameras or something?" I asked, keeping my head ducked, suddenly mad that I had no patience for longer hair because it would have acted as a better curtain.

There were cameras all around. Arty had noted those in the plans as well. They covered every inch of the place.

"Thank you," Che said, giving the hostess another distracted smile as we sat down, opening up our menus. "There's no reason for them to spend all their time watching every customer that comes and goes," Che assured me, voice low, so not even the closest table could hear. "You look like a little old lady who is having trouble reading," he teased, making me lower my menu a bit. "Act natural and no one will suspect anything."

"I'm sorry," I said, taking a deep breath. "This is very new for me," I added.

"I know," he agreed, reaching across the table to place his hand over mine. "Try the trick I taught you back when you were a nervous driver," he suggested. "Turn the anxiety into excitement."

It had sounded absurd when he taught it to me. It sounded even crazier right then. But I had to admit, he had been right nearly a decade ago. There was no reason to think he wouldn't be right now.

So I took a deep breath, chasing thoughts of anxiety and fear away, replacing them with the excitement not to go through this per se, but to get it over with, to get back to our lives.

By the time the server came to greet us, I could feel a sort of calm washing over me. That was the difference between anxiety and adrenaline. It was why I got shaky when trying to speak in front of a crowd, but felt focused and in control when I was about to drive a vehicle at a dangerous two-hundred miles per hour.

"I'm hungry now," I grumbled after we placed our order, knowing full-well we would never get it.

"We will order in from some place not owned by the Triad when we get home," he told me, eyes bright.

Home.

When we got home.

I hadn't realized until that very moment that I hadn't had a home in a decade. If you could even call the dozens of crummy apartments and extended-stay motels I'd grown up in home in the first place.

I never had a real home to go to.

I did jobs and went back to hotel rooms. I'd had the flu for ten days in a hotel room with no one but the cleaning staff to care. I'd celebrated all my birthdays and major holidays in hotel rooms. No decorations. No presents.

It felt both strange and wonderful to realize I had a home now. I had the same room to go back to. I had people who would check on me if I was unwell. I would have a Christmas tree and twinkle lights. I would have holiday meals with people I cared about.

I was someone who hated to cry when they were actually sad.

I never got teary when I was happy.

But there was no denying the glassiness I blinked away at the direction of my thoughts.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," Che assured me, reaching to touch my hand.

"Yes," I agreed, taking a steadying breath. "It is."

It had to be.

Because I didn't wait my entire life to get a home only to lose my life before I could even enjoy it.

"Let's get this over with," I added, moving to stand, making a show of telling Che I would be right back, then making my way toward the bathrooms, disappearing into the ladies room.