Checking It Twice

chapter Eleven


Kevin gave the four entrees lined up on the pass a thorough inspection before nodding to Wendy, his okay for her to deliver them to her table. Ry Hollister sidestepped Wendy and grabbed the door for her as she hurried from the kitchen with her carefully balanced trays.

Letting the door slip out of his grip, Ry approached the pass-through. “Everyone has been raving about your seafood paella tonight.”

“Thanks. Martin and Finn deserve most of the accolades.”

Ry scratched the growth of dark bristles overtaking his jaw. His beard-scruffed appearance was a popular choice adopted by a lot of the guys at the Dockside this time of year. Infinitely easier to maintain than squeaking in a few minutes every day to shave. “We’re going to miss your humbleness and your talent around here. Sure you don’t want to stay?”

A familiar guilt poked at him. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You, Bram and Lacey are great bosses. I appreciate every single opportunity you’ve given me to grow as a chef.” Their faith in him and willingness to let him explore pretty much any culinary path when it came to his menus was a big part of the reason he and the Dockside earned the coveted five-star rating with Metro Cuisine. He owed them a lot, and he wasn’t about to forget it any time soon.

Ry inclined his head. “Executive chef at the Cinders Las Vegas is a big deal. We’re all proud of you, and wish you the best. But don’t forget you’ll always have a home here if you change your mind down the road.”

Before Kevin had a chance to reply, Donna, the night manager, walked into the kitchen with a question for Ry. The pair disappeared into the hallway, leaving Kevin to his work.

The remainder of his shift flew by in a productive blur. He could truly say that he loved his job, which made him far more fortunate than many people. There were few things that gave him the same satisfaction as working with food and creating both healthy and delicious meals for others to savor. His love affair with cooking could be traced all the way back to his early childhood, when he’d snuck countless times into the kitchen while one of his dad’s personal chefs prepared elegant dinners for one of the various business functions that’d always seemed to be a weekly occurrence. His favorite of the chefs had been Collette, an elderly French woman who taught him how to make coq au vin and the flakiest, most fattening chocolate-glazed profiteroles known to humankind. Just remembering them made his mouth water.

Besides being a culinary genius and painstakingly patient with his quest to master the talent that’d taken her years to develop, Collette had been the closest he’d came to having a mother figure in his life. When she’d died, he’d locked himself in his room and cried for hours, out of sight of his father’s watchful eyes and censorious judgment.

The one and only time he’d shed tears in front of Richard Monahan had been twenty-four years ago. The only reason he knew the precise date was because it’d been branded into his memory. Kind of hard to forget the day your mother decides to leave for greener pastures. He could still hear his dad’s cold, biting demand to man up and stop blubbering over an absent mom who clearly didn’t love him. He’d only been six at the time—hardly a man. Not much of an excuse, in his father’s opinion.

A fist-sized ball of pressure wedged behind Kevin’s sternum. He’d always been a disappointment to his dad, one way or another. The situation with Madison only stamped the seal on his certificate of world’s worst son. Like a phantom righteous voice waiting to pop up at precisely the right moment, Nick’s indignant rebuttal streaked through Kevin’s consciousness. That cold son of a bitch took his pound of flesh twelve years ago when he kicked you out on the street. You don’t owe him anything more.

Grimacing, Kevin scrubbed his hands beneath the faucet of the utility sink before removing his chef’s jacket. He’d always had a complicated relationship with his dad. Nick had never understood that not everyone was so lucky to have the closeness he and his mom shared. Nick need never doubt the unconditional love his mom bestowed on him. And unlike Kevin and his dad, there was no chance in hell Nick’s mom would look at him with disgust in her eyes.

The pressure in Kevin’s chest expanded. Taking a deep breath, he shoved aside the taunting demons of his shame and guilt and exited the kitchen. A few minutes later, he offered goodbyes to Wendy and Gary, who were taking a smoke break outside, and hit the remote on his Navigator the same instant his cellphone buzzed. He dug in his coat pocket and pulled out the phone as he reached for his door handle. “Hello?”

“We’re going out tonight.”

He blinked at Nick’s cut-to-the-punch pronouncement before glancing at his watch. “It’s nine thirty. I’m going home to bed.”

“What are you, a f*cking old man?”

“I’ve been working all day.”

“So? You can catch up on Matlock reruns later.”

“Suck my dick.”

Nick’s chuckle floated through the receiver. “Thought you said you’re not batting for the other team. I’ll pick you up at your place in twenty.”

“You don’t know where I live.” Thank Jesus for small favors.

“I tailed you the other night.” There was no mistaking the smug smirk in Nick’s tone.

“F*cking stalker.”

Tuning out the obnoxious drone of Nick’s laughter, Kevin gritted his teeth and flipped his phone shut before climbing in his vehicle and driving the short trek to the detached condo he was renting. Once inside, he tossed his keys on the art deco end table and kicked his shoes off.

Shit, if Nick really was going to drag him out tonight—and why wouldn’t he, the a*shole—a shower was definitely in order. Grumbling, he unbuttoned his white Oxford and shrugged out of it as he stalked in the direction of the master bath.

Ten minutes later, his skin still hot and damp from the shower, he yanked a pair of jeans and boxer briefs from the dresser and ditched the towel wrapped around his waist. The doorbell chimed. He glared at the clock on the nightstand. “Goddamn punctual shithead.” After jumping into his clothes, he headed toward the front entry. He tugged open the door and stepped aside to let Nick in.

Nick’s gaze swept the small, tidy space. “Nice.”

“It’s not bad. I’m replacing most of the furniture with new stuff when I get out to Vegas.”

Nick remained silent. Concerned another argument regarding his move was in the percolating stage, Kevin scooped up his keys. “Ready?”

“Yeah, but I’m driving.”

“You’re starting to feel like my damn chauffeur.”

“Stop your whining. I’m blocking you in the driveway, so you have no choice anyway.”

“Convenient.” Jerking his coat on again, he trudged after Nick and locked the door behind them. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna.”

“You’ve really perfected your assholishness.”

“Yep. Set the bar high for all other a*sholes.” Nick settled behind the wheel and keyed the ignition. Left with little choice, Kevin grumpily slouched into the passenger seat.

They reversed out of the drive and Nick took a left out of the complex. “So how was work today?”

“Fine.” He double-checked his pocket, making sure he hadn’t accidently left his wallet back at the condo. “How about you?”

“Mine was great. Extremely productive.” A sly smile tipped the corner of Nick’s mouth.

“Drum up some more business?”

“Yes, amongst other things.”

He was well used to Nick’s penchant for being cryptic whenever he was in the mood to annoy the hell out of someone. Namely Kevin. Which was why he wasn’t going to fall for the bait. He settled his head against the padded neck rest. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. Wake me up when we get to wherever we’re going.”

“Will do.”

Stretching his legs best he could, he closed his eyes and listened to the steady whoosh of the tires plowing through the wintry slush. The relaxing sound lulled him under.

A nudge on his shoulder snapped him to alertness and he gave a groggy start. “I said don’t wake me until we get there.”

“We are there. You’ve been sleeping for almost half an hour.”

Frowning, he rubbed a hand across his face and gazed bleary-eyed out the windshield. Judging from the snow-dusted pickup in front of them, they were in a parking lot. “Shit. I’d swear I was only out of it for a couple seconds.” Shaking his head, he released his seat belt and swung open the door. Cracking a yawn, he stepped out onto the pavement and stretched his arms, his overworked joints popping. From the corner of his vision, he spied Nick texting someone on his cell. “Kind of late for business.”

Nick pocketed his phone. “This is definitely pleasure, not work.”

Rubbing the residual dregs of sleep from his eyes, Kevin strode toward the Audi’s rear end and leaned his ass on the bumper. He dropped his hands and gave in to another yawn. The sound turned into a choke when he spotted the steepled stone building across the way. Stunned adrenaline kicking his pulse up a notch, he jerked away from the Audi’s trunk and spun in Nick’s direction. “What the f*ck are we doing here?”

Nick’s shoulders hitched. “I looked it up online and wanted to check it out.”

Kevin set his mouth in an obstinate line. “You can’t get in if you’re not a member.”

“Good thing you are.”

“How…?” F*ck. It was no good lying. Nick was too closely acquainted with Kevin’s perversions. A voyeur not taking advantage of a local sex club would be akin to a duck refusing to go anywhere near water. Growling, he flipped his collar up against the cold. “I don’t want to make this an all-night affair. I have to f*cking work tomorrow morning.” Truthfully, he was only going in to the Dockside long enough to make sure the kitchen was set for the weekend, but Nick didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, Scrooge.”

Ignoring Nick’s taunt, Kevin led the way toward the imposing entrance of Club Arabesque. The heavily muscled attendant checked Kevin’s card and waved them through. Sensual techno music throbbed and beckoned—a musical enticement to the erotic enchantments available beyond the curtained alcove. Against his better judgment, he allowed Nick to talk him into checking their coats. After a terse reminder that they weren’t staying long, he followed Nick out into the sexually decadent atmosphere of the club. “Just so you know, you can’t buy alcohol here.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need a drink.”

Speak for yourself. Already the spell of this place was getting to him. Every inhalation he took, sex burned deeper into his lungs. The club was enough of a heady addiction without Nick’s presence. But having his best friend at his side? He was doomed.

A bead of sweat slid beneath his collar and rolled down his back, verifying his grim assessment. His hand shaking slightly, he reached for the top button on his shirt and freed it, praying for even a miniscule waft of air to cool him down. A strange sound came from Nick. Something between a strangled cough and a growl. He flashed his best friend a curious look and noticed Nick’s gaze was riveted straight ahead. Following the path of Nick’s focus, he glanced toward the stairway. A woman stood near the rail. Correction, the one woman on this planet capable of bringing him to his knees in a stupefied trance of lust.

Jana.