"What?" a familiar voice called out to her. "You don’t recognize me?"
Tracy opened and closed her eyes, trying to shake away the fog. When they did focus, the smiling face of Gordon Baxter was waiting to greet her.
"Gordon?!"
He let go of her wrist, wrapping his skilled hands around her throat and jerking her up against him. Even through his linen whites, she could feel the outline of a raging erection.
It was getting harder and harder for Tracy to breathe. She tried to push away, but his hand felt like it was glued to her. Her feet thrashed and kicked, but never made contact with anything. Gordon reached down with his other hand and squeezed her mound firmly.
When he spoke, his words came out like a serpent’s hiss.
"I’m going to kill you, Tracy."
Tracy screamed, but no sound came out.
Chapter 21
The weeks leading up to the grand opening of Tracy’s restaurant were a flurry of activity. There was a constant stream of vendors and new employees running in and out of the place from morning to night. At the center of it all was the waitress-turned-head honcho who, at the end of the day, felt about as lost as the day she chose to make it happen. The constant tornado of events made it almost impossible to concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two.
The first few days, she avoided Gordon. After their sexual night together followed by the disturbing dream, she wasn't sure what to expect from him. But, he behaved as if nothing had ever happened between them. He was the complete professional, which was good because Tracy felt like everything was falling apart at the seams.
Fortunately, Gordon stepped in to help, after finding her almost in tears because she got the wrong size onions. From that point on, the two worked seamlessly in tandem in a way that Tracy hadn’t expected. By the time the big night did arrive, Tracy was thanking her lucky stars she'd got him to work for her.
"Tracy!" One of the younger sous chefs ran up to her and pushed the bridge of his glasses up with the back of his wrist. "Baxter wanted me to tell you that we’re ready whenever you are."
Unsurprisingly, Gordon had insisted on his employees calling him by his last name only.
"Okay. Thanks." A sudden wave of nervousness washed over her.
He nodded. "Yes ma’am."
Tracy closed her eyes and sucked in a big breath of the fragrant air. There was a line of folks waiting not far from where she stood. Among them, she was sure, were local food critics and elite business women and men. Mr. Hayes had seen to the guest list, making sure that all of the right people would be in attendance.
Everything, it seemed, was perfect. Which, if experience meant anything, meant that Tracy's world was going to turn into a disaster.
She snapped open her eyes and exhaled. From there, her feet carried her to the lobby, where she slipped open the deadbolt on the front doors and pushed them open. Waiting to greet her at the head of the line was Mr. Hayes. He flashed her a toothy smile and adjusted the lapel of his tux jacket.
"You ready?" he asked, kissing her cheek. His touch was comforting.
"Yep. Marcy," she said to her lead hostess, who was waiting nearby. "Let’s start seating."
The young blonde nodded and went to work, dispatching each of her six girls with table after table of important folks and their guests. Tracy stood back with Mr. Hayes and watched all of it, her hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Mr. Hayes rested his hand on the small of her back. "Having fun yet?"
She cocked an eyebrow up at him. "This is supposed to be fun?"
Both of them chuckled. It was a well-needed respite.
"I’m going to go check on things in the kitchen," he said and took his hand away. "Call me on the radio if you need anything."
Tracy nodded and watched him slip through the crowd and disappear. She walked outside into the parking lot. Not far, but just enough to get away from the restless din of voices, plates and glasses.
There was a cool breeze starting to roll through the city, and it grabbed the stray hairs that had fallen from her ponytail, gently fluttering them about her face. Her cheeks were still flushed, so the wind felt even colder that it normally would have. She shivered and looked to her left, where a small alley ran between her restaurant and the designer boutique next door, leading to the next street over. Tracy hadn't been down it, as she didn’t make a habit of strolling alone at night.
Just as she was about to go back in, something drew her eyes. A little puff of smoke bubbled up from behind a streetlight. Tracy stood still and watched as another went up and subsequently carried away by the chilly wind.
It wasn’t until then that she noticed how quiet the rest of the block was. Aside from her bustling event, hardly a car went by and there were even fewer pedestrians. Tracy took a step forward and looked closely.