BWWM Interracial Romance 6: Her Protector (2 page)

Adriana was on the point of heading to the back of the restaurant and to her desk in the office, to get a start on putting in the information on the night’s sales, when a noise towards the front of the restaurant caught her attention. There was shouting—the sound of something breaking—and Adriana found herself turning around on her heel in the direction of the commotion. Everyone else in the restaurant went silent, allowing Adriana to hear in detail what was going on; a man, obviously drunk by the way he was slurring his words, was shouting at one of Adriana’s servers.

“Becky’s hurt,” one of the bussers said, rushing up to Adriana and speaking lowly.

“Call the police,” Adriana told the teenager quickly. She looked around; her bartender, John, was tall and heavy—suited for what she needed, and part of why he had been hired by her father. “John, Taylor,” Adriana gestured for one of the other bussers—a teenaged boy no older than 16 but who at least had the benefit of powerlifting as an extracurricular activity—to follow her out into the section.

The bartender and the busboy flanked her and Adriana threw her shoulders back, standing tall to the limits of her 5’6” body and putting her face into the sternest possible lines. Becky, the unfortunate server taking the brunt of the drunken customer’s tirade, was struggling to keep her composure and insisting that the drunk man would have to leave.

“It’s okay, Becky. Go to the back,” Adriana said, raising her voice just enough to cut through the slurring, slushy shouts of the drunken man.

“I’m not through talking to her yet,” the man said, lunging after Becky as the girl darted away.

Adriana blocked his path. “Yes you are,” she said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And right now you are going to sit the hell down and wait for the police to arrive and then you are leaving my damn restaurant.”

When the drunk would have argued, John and Taylor moved closer to him, menacing in their presence. The man sat down heavily, beginning to look nervous.

Adriana encouraged the rest of the servers to go about as they would normally—it would do no good to interrupt service, even if everyone was fascinated. She waited for the police to arrive, feeling anger seething in her guts, wanting nothing more than to kick the man out and make it stick, make it so that he couldn’t ever come back into her restaurant. Once the police charged him with something—assuming they were able to do their jobs well enough to make the decision to charge him—she would get his information and make sure it was posted for her servers and hostesses alike; he would not be able to get a table at the restaurant ever again in the future. He was officially banned for life.

Adriana was becoming impatient—wondering just how much could possibly be going on in Portland that it was taking the police so long—when two officers came into the restaurant.

“We got a call about a disturbance here,” one of them called out.

“Over here, officers!” Adriana called out. As they approached, Adriana turned her attention from the drunk and her two would-be bouncers, and onto the new arrivals.

Her eyes widened. One of the two men was tall, with light brown hair underneath his uniform cap, blue eyes, and a slim-muscular build. Adriana recognized him immediately: Sawyer Barton, a man she had known quite well when they had gone to the same high school. At one point in her life, Sawyer had been one of her very best friends in the entire world; she had tutored him in English and the easy chemistry between them had blossomed into more than just a standard tutor-student relationship. But nothing more than friendship had ever come of the situation, in spite of the fact that Adriana had always been a little tempted to try or more. Once they’d gone their separate ways for college, she put her crush aside, and they had fallen out of touch with each other, though Adriana did know that he had gotten married.

Sawyer saw her as well—and checked for a moment, shaking his head slightly as he closed the distance between them.

“What’s going on, ma’am?” Sawyer’s partner asked.

“This man assaulted one of my waiters,” Adriana told both officers quickly. “He’s had too much to drink and he attacked one of my servers—Becky. You need to go ahead and put him in the drunk tank for the night.”

Sawyer smiled; the other man did not.

“Where is the person he assaulted?” Sawyer asked, glancing around.

“I sent her to the back. If you need her statement, I can either give her a quick call and get her back up here, or I can take one of you back to her.”

Sawyer glanced at his partner. “Let’s go ahead and load him into the car,” Sawyer said, shrugging quickly. “Then we can come back and ask everyone what they saw.” The two officers quickly cuffed the unruly, drunk patron and led him out to the waiting patrol car.

When Sawyer came back in, Adriana watched him talk to the waiters and bus staff who had been in that area when the altercation happened; he worked his way up to Becky, the waitress who’d been hurt. The injury was minor, a twisted wrist and a few bruises. “You’ll want to visit a doctor tomorrow morning,” Sawyer told Becky. “We’ll get a couple of pictures now just for evidence, but if you can get the doctor to give you a copy of your records, that will help too.”

Adriana watched, glancing around the dining area to see that the commotion—and the police car—had at least led to a few more people in the restaurant than usual.

Sawyer approached her last. “This guy—Nathan Burns—he’s got a few priors; domestic disturbances, mostly. Normally something like this would be a hold and release on his own recognizance tomorrow, but…”

Adriana interrupted, “I’d like to press charges.”

Sawyer nodded. “You should. You as the owner, Becky on her own, too.”

Adriana was tempted to try and hold Sawyer back, but once he’d gotten notes on what she knew of the incident, he had to go—and she could understand very well why. He was on duty; he couldn’t stand around talking to an old friend when there was someone to be taken back to the station and thrown in jail for the night.

“I appreciate you getting here so quickly,” Adriana said, shaking the hand that Sawyer offered as he moved to leave. There was so much more she wanted to say, but it wasn’t the time. She watched him leave and went back to work, making sure everything was as it should be, and taking part in closing chores until after the rest of the staff had left. By the time she grabbed her purse and locked up, walking out to her car, her feet were aching and she was tired down to her bones—but couldn’t help smiling to herself, remembering Sawyer’s appearance.

Adriana hadn’t told her mother about the altercation immediately; she had gone home and went directly to bed, not even bothering to take a shower until the next morning. When she finally got around to telling Esther about the drunk, Becky’s injuries, and the quick response from the police, it had been two days later—and only because the wait staff had been buzzing with it.

“That Sawyer is a good guy; always has been,” Esther said, standing up from the table immediately. “I’m going to make him a batch of cookies and you are going to take them to him.”

“Mom,” Adriana said, shaking her head as Esther started assembling the ingredients to her famous oatmeal cookies. “I don’t need to bring him cookies—I don’t even know if that’s allowed.”

“Of course it’s allowed,” Esther had said, appalled that Adriana could doubt it. “And you’re staying away from the restaurant today. It’ll give you something to do.”

“If you’re worried about me having something to do, I should just go to the restaurant.”

Esther shook her head. “You’re working too hard, not taking enough time for yourself. Your father—bless him—always made a distinction between working hours and home hours and you know it.”

Adriana couldn’t argue with that; Richard Ellis had always made sure that someone was home to play with and mind Adriana when she got home from school as a child, and when she was a teenager, he made a point of taking two days per week where he was only “on call,” and the staff knew that the only reason to call him in would be if there was a major disaster: a fire in the kitchen, something like that. Otherwise, they were expected to fend for themselves, with the longest-working employees in charge of the restaurant for the day.

“Still, isn’t it a bit hokey to bring cookies to the police station?”

Esther snorted. “You’ll see how hokey Sawyer thinks it is.”

Adriana turned onto Spring Street, looking around from behind her big sunglasses and enjoying the day in spite of herself. It was almost summer; she could feel it in the balmy air, the bright sunshine that yellowed the world and gave the red bricks of the historical buildings a particular glow. She resisted the urge to turn left on Exchange and double back to the restaurant. She was taking a rare day off; her mother had insisted on it when she heard not only about the altercation but also the resolution.

The cookies her mother had baked filled her car with a familiar spicy, warm scent, and Adriana—knowing it would never be noticed—reached into the front passenger seat, where the cloth-lined basket that held them sat firmly, and snagged one. Densely chewy and soft, Adriana could easily understand why her mother’s cookies had always been legendary in the town. They used to be on the menu—in the form of a cookie sundae—but it had fallen by the wayside over the years when Esther got tired of making them in bulk for the restaurant. “There are some things I’ll do for love that I won’t do for money,” she had said firmly.

Finally, Adriana reached the police department and parked in the public area, taking a deep breath and looking over her outfit. It was silly for her to be worried about how she looked; Sawyer had known her since high school. But there was something deep down, a kind of fluttery feeling  that Adriana would never have admitted to herself, but she had changed clothes twice before loading up her car and heading for the station. She took the basket of cookies and settled the cloth over them, making sure those that had survived her greedy, hungry hands were not disturbed. There were still over two dozen, more than enough for Sawyer to share with his partner and still take some home to his wife.

“Hey Adriana,” the woman at the front dispatch and reception desk said as she walked in. Adriana was happy to see a warm friendly face amidst the police station. Carla Huggins was a regular patron at the restaurant for several years. “Oh! Who’s earned the privilege of some of your mom’s cookies? And a delivery in person, no less?” The basket was giveaway enough—Esther Ellis always sent her treats in one just like it—even without the lingering perfume. Adriana smiled.

“Sawyer came by the other night and picked up an unruly patron who’d hurt one of the girls working for us,” Adriana explained. “As soon as Mom heard about it she insisted.”

Carla laughed. “How’s she doing, your Mom?”

Adriana shrugged. “She seems to be getting over the chest cold, but she’s pushing herself too hard. I think she doesn’t like to be alone.”

Carla nodded. “We all expected it and didn’t expect it at the same time,” she said confidentially, tapping away at her keyboard. “Your father was in the hospital for a while, and we all knew he might not come out, but we all hoped.”

“One of the most popular funerals I’ve been to in a while,” Adriana said with a wry smile. Richard Ellis had been a fixture in the town—he had sponsored the Little League teams, had done everything he could to give back to the people who had kept his restaurant going. There had always been an ad in the high school yearbook, paid for by Ellis American Cuisine.

“Go on back, Sawyer’s at his desk. You’ll find him. Here.” Carla handed Adriana a visitor’s pass to pin onto the front of her sweater. “Any chance I can snag one of those from you?” Carla pointed mischievously at the basket.

“I don’t think anyone would miss just one,” Adriana said with a little smile, turning aside the cloth. Carla quickly snatched one lying on top, and sat back down, waving Adriana back.

Adriana walked past the desks, keeping the basket close; looking around to find Sawyer. The station was big but not enormous, and in the daylight hours, only about half of the desks were tenanted. She found Sawyer, typing away at a report, his blue eyes focused on the screen.

“You’re such a nerd,” Adriana said, sitting down in the chair across the desk for him with a smile.

Sawyer looked up with a start, his gaze fastening on her before he smiled slowly. “I suppose I deserve that,” he said, stretching slightly. It had been his favorite taunt to Adriana whenever she had foregone a party or other event or the sake of studying. “What brings you?”

Adriana shrugged and lifted the basket onto Sawyer’s desk, smiling more broadly as she whipped the cloth aside to reveal the coveted cookies. Sawyer’s eyes widened with appreciation.

“Mom was so impressed with how you handled the drunk she insisted I take the day off to bring a token of her gratitude.”

Sawyer chuckled, shaking his head.

“I was just doing my job,” he said, shrugging indolently and leaning back in his chair. Adriana noticed with a little inner twinge that his desk was hopelessly cluttered—papers piled up, an empty mug with a ring of dried coffee at the bottom pushed to one corner, a little dust furring underneath his computer monitor. He’d always been messy, careless—it was one of the only things that Adriana hadn’t really liked about him, and when he’d told her that he planned to go to the police academy after graduation, she had doubted how good he would be.

“You got there really quickly,” Adriana pointed out.

A look of embarrassment crossed Sawyer’s face and his smile shifted into a subtle kind of awkwardness. “Well, ever since your dad died, we’ve sort of… kept an ear open.” He swallowed. “We know it’s either you or your mom there in charge, and things have been kind of rough for you both.”

Adriana felt her cheeks warming with slight embarrassment. “We’re fine, really.”

Sawyer nodded quickly. “Oh, I know—it’s just, everyone loved Richard; we just want to make sure nothing bad happens to either of you.”

Adriana supposed she should feel grateful that the police were on their side—but there was something in the implication that they couldn’t take care of their own situations that made her a little resentful.

She took a deep breath and watched Sawyer reach into the basket, snagging one of the cookies and bringing it to his mouth. “These are really spectacular,” he said, taking a big bite and closing his eyes in appreciation. “I should share them, I guess,” he said, opening his eyes once more. There was a fleeting look of irritation on his face that confused Adriana. “Hey, Linder!” Sawyer raised his hand to wave over a guy at another desk, the one who had been with him on the call the night of the altercation. “Come grab some of these cookies.” He muttered something under his breath, so low that Adriana couldn’t catch it.

The other man came to the desk and took a handful of cookies, and the tension between the two men was unmistakable. The other man went back to where he was sitting, and looked back at Sawyer and Adriana for a moment before turning to his work once more.

“That’s Kent Linder,” Sawyer said. “He’s my partner—figured I should give him a crack at these.”

Adriana nodded. “You seem to be doing well,” she said, wondering how to ease the sudden tension she felt.

Sawyer hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Well enough.”

“Police work agrees with you, then?” Adriana felt guilty that she had somehow managed to fall completely out of touch with someone who she had considered a close friend less than ten years before.

“Well, other than the paperwork, it’s never really boring,” he said with a shrug. “Never thought I’d see you back in town in a million years though, much less running your dad’s place.”

Adriana echoed his shrug with one of her own. “Dad never found anyone he trusted enough to hand it off to before he died, and Mom can’t do it by herself, so I’m it,” she said.

“How’s your Mom doing? Heard she’d been sick.”

Adriana smiled; she had forgotten that while Portland was technically a major metropolitan area, it still had something of the small-town mentality. Everyone knew everything about everyone-except for her. She hadn’t managed to re-discover the flow of town life yet, even months after returning.

“She’s better. If that cough doesn’t clear out in a day or two I’m going to force
her
to take a day off and get to Dr. Pole.”

Sawyer laughed, and the tension that Adriana had felt hovering between them began to dissolve. “You accomplish that and you’ll have the whole town’s respect.” He glanced at his computer. “I hate to cut your visit short, Adri,” he said—actually sounding reluctant. “One thing this job has plenty of is paperwork.”

“I gotcha,” Adriana said, standing with a little smile. “It was good to see you again, Sawyer. Drop by the restaurant sometime, you’ll get the Law Enforcement discount.”

Sawyer shook his head. “I won’t take it. I like to support local business.”

Adriana smiled and turned away, wondering why she felt so warm. For a moment, she had been completely ready to rush away—the tension between Sawyer and his partner had made her feel unwelcome indeed. But now she was reluctant to pull herself away. She hoped that Sawyer would come to her restaurant soon, and not just to eject a drunk.

Adriana was sitting in the kitchen at home, wondering what to do with herself the rest of the day, when she got a call from Desiree.

“Hey, Chickie,” Desiree said the moment she answered. “Sorry I’ve been so out of touch lately.”

“Oh it’s no big,” Adriana said, smiling. “I know you’re working all the hours God gave you.”

Desiree laughed. It was easy to picture the woman on the other side of the line; Desiree was just about as unlike Adriana in appearance as it was possible to be: a petite blonde with brilliant gray-blue eyes. She had been inspired to get into the styling and fashion business as a result of having to tailor and alter her own clothes to fit her slim, 5’3” frame properly—and had sworn as a teenager that she would one day make it possible for women of all non-standard sizes to feel beautiful in their clothes. It was a business that had a huge demand, and Adriana had more than once gotten Desiree’s help in finding or fixing a garment to make her look clean, professional, and sharp.

“Heard you got a dose of excitement the other night. Sawyer had to clean up?”

Adriana rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t much of anything. Just some drunk who thought it would be a good idea to take out his frustrations on one of my servers.”

“Lucky for you Sawyer was around, with that louse of a partner he’s still saddled with.”

Adriana’s smile fell. “What’s the story with the partner?”

“Girl you don’t know?” Desiree’s voice betrayed her genuine shock. “Oh, it was already sort of old news by the time you came back, I guess. Anyhow—so Sawyer’s wife, the little worm, was cheating on him with Kent. Who knows how they managed it, since on-duty Sawyer and Kent spend all their time together obviously—but somehow they did.”

Adriana’s mouth fell open in shock. She’d known the woman Sawyer was married to; Lisa hadn’t been part of the same clique in high school, but she was part of their class and had been reasonably popular. “That’s low as hell,” Adriana said. “What happened?”

She pictured Desiree shrugging.

“Well eventually of course Sawyer did find out, and he left Lisa. I don’t know which of those two I feel angrier with—Kent for cheating with his partner’s wife or Lisa for cheating with her husband’s partner. They’re both low-down dirty fools, if you ask me.”

“Sounds like it. Why would Sawyer keep working with Kent after that?”

“The way I hear it he doesn’t have much choice. Aren’t too many people willing to partner up with Kent, and besides, they try to be careful about how they match people up. Psychodynamics or something like that. Anyway, Sawyer’s stuck working with the guy who broke up his marriage.”