Zo? felt Greening staring at her.
Greening stood and faced Sobona. “OK, you’ve said your piece. Now it’s time to go.”
Sobona snorted a derisive laugh. “We are far from finished. We’re sorting this shit out now.”
Greening reached into his jacket and produced his badge. “No, we’re finished here, unless you want to make it much worse for yourself.”
Sobona rolled his eyes and clapped his hands dramatically. “Fantastic. A cop. So that’s how you get away with it—police protection. You’re a piece of work.”
He couldn’t have injected any more contempt into his voice if he tried. If his intention was to shame her, it had worked. She wanted to disappear.
The hostess returned with the chef and two waiters. They crowded around Sobona.
“Sir, you are not a customer here. Please leave.”
“This bitch nearly broke my nose and thumb last night.”
“That isn’t any of our concern. It’s time to go.”
One of the waiters, a broad-shouldered guy, placed a hand on Sobona’s arm just to reinforce the chef’s point.
Sobona raised his hands in surrender, dislodging the waiter’s hand. “OK, OK. I’m going. I know when I’m being screwed over.”
The waiter ushered Sobona to the door, in case he changed his mind about leaving. Greening remained on his feet, no doubt in case his cop powers were needed.
“Sir, you are not welcome here in the future,” the chef said.
“I wouldn’t waste my time with this place. Your food stinks.” Sobona couldn’t resist leaving without pounding the window one last time and screaming, “Bitch.”
The chef moved to the center of the restaurant with hands raised. “Sorry for the commotion, folks. We’re not impervious to the occasional drunk making trouble. I hope it hasn’t spoiled anyone’s enjoyment.”
He got a round of applause on his way back to the kitchen.
Greening retook his seat. “Never a dull moment in your life.”
The hostess came over to Zo? and Greening. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you guys OK? Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Zo? said. “I’m really embarrassed.”
The hostess placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t be. Whatever you did, he deserved it.”
“I think we’ll take the check,” Greening said.
As the hostess returned to her station, Greening leaned in. “And you said no one here would remember you. Would you like to amend your statement, Ms. Sutton?”
From across the street, Marshall Beck watched Zo? take the man’s double-barreled outburst. He had quite a temper on him, which was something Beck didn’t like. Emotional displays in public disgusted him.
As much as Beck wanted nothing to do with the man, there was a story here that might give him an edge against Zo?. Targeting someone was all about research. The more you knew, the more likely you’d have the upper hand.
Tracking Zo? proved to be a straightforward affair now that he knew where she lived. One of the advantages of working at Urban Paws was he was allowed to set his own hours. Instead of going in this morning, he’d staked out Zo?’s apartment building. He’d waited until she’d left and followed her to the Golden Gate Mall. He’d determined the shift she worked by making the pretense of applying for a security guard’s position. He’d gone into work and left early in order to catch Zo? on her way home. She was tough to follow on that motorcycle of hers in the rush-hour crush. She took plenty of risks cutting in and out of traffic. It had forced him to drive in the carpool lane, just to keep up. He’d thought he’d lost her until he’d spotted her bike outside the self-defense studio. She was quite the GI Jane now. He put that down to his influence. Now his tracking skills had brought him here. He’d followed Zo? and that cop who’d seen her off from the Hall of Justice the night before. The irate man provided yet another wrinkle to this evening’s surveillance effort.
This is going to be very easy, Beck thought. He crossed the street, putting him on a collision course with the angry man. Still cursing and muttering to himself, the guy was totally unaware of Beck zeroing in on him. Beck’s casual demeanor was more to disguise his actions from everyone else on the street than for his target.
Beck strode straight at the guy. The man was looking at him, but his rage blinded him to what was directly in front of him. Beck removed his cell phone and pretended to be reading texts as he walked. He positioned himself so he and the man struck shoulders. The impact knocked Beck’s cell from his grasp, sending it skittering across the sidewalk.
“Look where the fuck you’re going,” the man barked.