Death Before Decaf (14 page)

Seth tightened his grip, and Johnny's eyes bulged. “I don't think so. Stay the hell away from her, or next time, I snap your neck.”

Snap his neck? Holy shit, Seth was scary! All I could do was stand there and shake.

“Yes, sir,” Johnny croaked, looking a little dazed, probably from lack of oxygen. Seth roughly let him loose and shoved him toward his truck. Johnny stumbled over to it and got in. He roared away, but not before locking his eyes on me with one last threatening stare. An icy chill ripped up my spine, and I shivered again, in spite of the afternoon heat. I couldn't imagine how Johnny had found me. And I wasn't convinced that Seth's threat would be enough to stop him from coming after me again.

Seth came over to me and enveloped me in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked kindly.

“Yes,” I breathed, not returning his embrace. I was dangerously close to tears, with fear, disappointment, and anger all swirling around inside me. My heart rate was slowly returning to normal, but I was still shaking like a leaf. Speaking was difficult around the huge lump in my throat.

“Good,” he replied, leaning back and holding me at arm's length. He glared at me and yelled, “What the hell were you thinking? Why have you been following me all afternoon, and how did you get mixed up with that delinquent?”

The last thing I imagined Seth was going to do was turn this around on me, and who was he to interrogate me at a time like this? I was the one who was supposed to be questioning him about impersonating Seth Davis! And how did he know I had been following him? Damn it! Did he have a Spidey sense or something? Eyes in the back of his head? Or maybe I was just a sucky spy.

I wasn't afraid anymore—I was just pissed. Blowing out an exasperated breath, I yelled back, “I've been following you because I want to know why you're impersonating a college professor in order to pick up girls. Or maybe you're a serial killer. I don't know. Either way, you lied to me, and I don't appreciate it!”

Looking around warily, he pulled me back under some nearby trees and lowered his voice. “Shh. Not so loud. Look, you don't know what's going on here, and you need to keep your nose out of my business. Do you hear me?”

“It's
my
business if the guy who keeps asking me out and hanging around in my coffeehouse is a perv!”

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I'm not a perv, okay? Anyway, you need to stay away from that guy. He's bad news.”

“No shit.”

“Juliet,” he said sharply, “you're getting mixed up in something way out of your league. That guy was purposely following you. I don't want you going anywhere alone.”

“You are not the boss of me,” I huffed.

His mouth lifted slightly in the corner. “You're cute when you get angry.”

“And you're an ass, Seth. Wait. That's not even your real name. Who in the hell are you, anyway?”

He sobered up immediately. “That's none of your business.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Not my business to know what your name is? Whatever. But don't blame me when the cops pick you up thanks to an anonymous tip.”

His muscles rippled as he crossed arms over his chest and pointed out, “It's not a crime to impersonate some horny professor.”

I stopped. Hmm. I guessed it
wasn't
against the law to lie to women to get them into bed. Well, it should be. “I could at least call campus security and have you banned from Vanderbilt property.”

He blew out a breath. “If I tell you the truth, will you keep your mouth shut?”

“Maybe.”

He glared at me.

I gave up. “Fine, I'll keep my mouth shut.”

“You can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you.”

I nodded, figuring I'd tell Pete later anyway.

“The truth is…” He sighed, obviously not wanting to tell me. “I'm a private investigator.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Nice. I got scammed by a rent-a-cop.”

“I said private investigator, not security guard!”

He looked pissed, so I decided to taunt him a little. “Same difference.”

“I just wouldn't go calling people names, waitress.”

Gasping, I retorted, “I'm the
manager,
thank you.”

“Right.”

“Well, Magnum P.I., what is it that you're investigating? The average cup size of the American coed?” I asked sarcastically.

“Very funny. And I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Of course you're not, Magnum.”

“Don't call me ‘Magnum'!” he shouted.

“I don't know your name!”

“It's Ryder.”

I sighed. “Sure it is.”

“I'm not joking.”

“I understand that you don't want me to know your real name because you're ‘undercover' or whatever.” I made air quotes to emphasize the ridiculousness of it all. “But you could have at least come up with a better name than Ryder. You sound like a vigilante in a bad action movie.”

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Ryder
is
my real name.”

“Whatever you say, Magnum.”

“You know what? Maybe I shouldn't have saved you from that scumbag, because you're nothing but a big pain in my ass!”

“At least I'm not a big fat liar!”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

Seth—or Ryder, whoever he was—grabbed my face with his hands and kissed me.
Really
kissed me. It was a genuine knee-buckling, swoon-worthy, forget-your-own-name smooch.

When he released me, I had to shake my head to come back to my senses. I cleared my throat and said, “I'm going back to work now.” I tried to walk purposely away, but he caught my arm.

“I'm driving you.”

I complained, “It's only a few blocks.”

“I don't care. You don't go anywhere alone.
Capisce?
”

“Now you're
acting
like a vigilante in a bad action movie, too.”

Ryder just growled and pulled me across the street. His car wasn't parked too far away. He opened the door for me and stuffed me unceremoniously inside.

“You know,” I pointed out, “you were a lot nicer when you were a horny professor.”

That remark only got me more glaring. It was deathly silent for a moment, and then Ryder said, “I want to make it clear that you can't tell anyone what I told you. No one can know that I'm not Seth Davis, college professor. It would jeopardize my entire investigation.”

“It would probably help me to keep quiet if you told me what exactly you're investigating,” I said sweetly, hoping to charm it out of him. I glanced around inside his car, hoping to find something that might clue me in on either his identity or his job, but found nothing. His car was immaculate, down to the perfectly polished black leather seats, without even so much as an empty soda can in the cup holder.

“Nice try.”

“Is it Dave's murder? Wait, no. You were hanging around the coffeehouse before that happened. It's something else with Dave, though, isn't it? Was he into something illegal? Does he have some connection to the students at Vanderbilt?” Maybe the stolen mail in his hidey box from those three Vanderbilt students was important after all.

He laughed. “You can guess all day, and you're never going to figure it out. You're a terrible sleuth.”

“I figured out your little secret, didn't I?”

Glancing at me, he relented. “I guess you did figure that out, sort of, but you have no surveillance skills whatsoever. I knew you were tailing me today from the start. I also knew that someone was tailing you,
and
that you were completely clueless about it.”

“Then why didn't you do anything to stop him?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see how it played out.”

“Dick.”

Ryder grinned slyly. “You like me.”

“Not even.”

Thankfully, we were back at Java Jive. Without even saying goodbye, I hopped out and scurried into the sanctuary of the coffeehouse. I had never been so glad to be back.

My head was reeling from the sheer craziness of the afternoon. Lost in thought, I blindly filled orders and went through the motions at Java Jive. It was killing me to think that I had to keep everything I had learned a secret, especially from Pete. Oh, screw it. I was going to tell Pete the second he came through the door.

The coffeehouse was busy for dinner, but nothing like the day before. When Pete came in—looking a lot happier, I might add—I snagged him and pulled him into the office.

“Dude. You will
never
guess what happened to me this afternoon.”

“Sara Evans came in?”

I gave him a confused look. “No.” Pete had worked with her before, so he knew her. “Why, was she supposed to?”

“Yeah, she told me she might drop by.”

“Damn it! I was gone this afternoon.” I was a Sara Evans fan. Leave it to me to miss meeting one of the few country artists I actually liked.

“Playing hooky already?”

“No,” I said petulantly. “I guess I need to start from the beginning.” I told Pete all about Paolina's mysterious credit card, and he looked increasingly worried as my story went on.

“Jules, that sounds fishy. There should not have been a credit card in the pastry case in the first place. It sounds to me like someone was trying to hide it. Did you question all our staff?”

“Yes. But, Pete, they won't open up to me. I don't know if they don't like me or don't trust me or what.”

“I want to talk to each of them separately. Maybe someone will spill their guts to me. Why don't you go ask Cole to come in here.”

“Um…that's not the end of the story. You know the guy you beat up last night?”

He puffed out his chest a little and smiled. “Yeah.”

“He followed me over to Vandy.”

“What?” Pete exploded, jumping out of his chair.

“He accosted me and tried to shove me into his truck.”

“What?” Pete repeated, rushing over to kneel in front of me. He leaned in and scrutinized me intently, looking for any signs of damage. “Are you okay?”

I didn't want him to worry, but I needed a little sympathy. I certainly hadn't received any from Seth…Ryder, I mean. “I'm fine. Thanks for your concern, but don't worry. As luck would have it, I guess, Seth appeared out of nowhere. He got Johnny in a headlock and threatened to kick his ass if he bothered me again. Then Johnny left.”

Pete's eyes grew dark, and he stood up and began pacing the room. “That Seth guy is not much better than Johnny.”

“Right.” I thought about not telling Pete about Seth/Ryder, but I couldn't hold it in. I always told Pete everything. “Here's the thing about Seth. He's not really Seth the Professor. He's Ryder the Private Eye, posing as Seth the Professor.”

“Huh? You lost me, Jules.”

I told him all about my neighbor and the real Seth Davis, plus about me blowing the fake Seth Davis's cover. I left out the part about the kissing.

Pete snorted. “His real name is Ryder? Seriously? That is so lame. What's his last name? Hard? Rough? Likeapony?”

I couldn't help but laugh. Pete was definitely a product of living with Gertie. “Seriously, though, he told me I couldn't tell anyone about who he really is. He said it could ruin his investigation. You can't let on that you know.”

“I'll try. But let it be known that I told you he was shady. Didn't I?” Pleased with himself, Pete sat down and put his feet up on the desk.

“Yes, you're very smart,” I said dryly.

“Damn straight. So what now?”

“I guess he's still going to come in here and pretend to be Seth, and we have to play along. We can't tell the staff, or Gertie, either.”

“Yeah, she'd probably have a hissy fit and tell the guy off.”

“Probably.”

“And what about you? I assume you're done with him now that you know he lied to you.”

“Of course,” I answered automatically. Truth be told, it didn't bother me that Ryder had kept his identity a secret. I understood that it was part of his private eye thing, and why should he have been expected to blow his cover for a girl he just met? My fears about him were put to rest, and now that I knew what had felt “off” about him, I could move on. Continuing to see him every day in Java Jive wouldn't be awkward for me, especially considering how easy he was on the eyes. The fact that he was a private eye only made him sexier.

Pete breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now all I have to worry about is this credit card fiasco. And Johnny Brewer, I guess. Even if Seth—excuse me,
Ryder
—threatened him, that doesn't mean he won't try to come after you again. What do you think Brewer wants with you, anyway?”

“I don't know. Do you think he might have killed Dave and assumes I'm on to him? I mean, he had to have followed me from here, right? There's no way he could have randomly stumbled upon me at Vandy.”

“I wouldn't think so, but how would he have known to find you here? Last night was the first time you met, right?”

I racked my brain, but couldn't come up with anything. “As far as I know. Well, let's say he
did
just happen to see me this afternoon and decide to accost me. I was wearing this Java Jive shirt, so if he noticed it, now he knows for sure there's a connection between Dave and me.”

“Jules,” Pete said uneasily, taking his feet off the desk and leaning toward me in his chair. “Maybe it's time we called the police. This is getting a little too scary for my liking.”

“And what are we going to tell them exactly?”

“That you were attacked in broad daylight by some crazy hick!”

I thought about it for a moment. “Unless we lie and say that it was a random attack, we're going to have to fess up to the fact that we decided to do a little sleuthing on our own. During which we tricked Dave's widow into talking about his enemies, tracked one of them down, broke into his motel room, tossed the place, beat him up, and then ran. That won't make us look guilty or anything.”

He nodded slowly. “You have a point. I'd hate to be arrested for assault. I'm too pretty to go to prison.”

“You'd definitely be some guy's bitch before your first day was over.”

“Seriously, though, Jules. Maybe you shouldn't be alone tonight.” He smiled hopefully. “You could stay at my place.”

Holy hell. I had been spent years yearning to hear those words. But now things were complicated. Plus, if Johnny Brewer was going to try to kill me in my sleep, Pete couldn't stop him, and I surely didn't want him to hurt Pete, too. “Thank you, but I'm fine. Really. And now I need to do some actual work, or the owner will think I'm not worth keeping around.”

He held my gaze. “You'll always be worth keeping around, Jules.”

Pete and I decided that it would be safer for me to work in the kitchen tonight, just in case Johnny came looking for me at Java Jive. That meant Shane had to work out front, which he grumbled about. It was a lot easier to hide and not do much work in the kitchen, because after the dinner rush, there weren't a lot of food orders. Shane probably preferred it that way. Pete spent the evening in the office, paying bills and doing the payroll. He also questioned all of our staff members about the credit card, but came up with nothing, just like I had. I spent my time cleaning and getting the kitchen ready for the next day. Logan worked alongside me, but didn't have anything to say. Then again, neither did I. I was pretty worn out from the events of the past few days.

A few minutes before closing time, Jamie popped her head into the pass-through window and said, “Juliet, there's some guy out here asking for you.”

I froze. Surely Johnny didn't have the balls to come after me in public, in front of a room full of people. “Um, who is it?”

“That teacher from Vandy who's here all the time. You know, the older guy? He's cute, though.”

Ryder. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was dangerous, but not in the way that Johnny was dangerous. And how dare Jamie call him an “older guy”? “Thanks. I'll be right out.”

I didn't want to be attracted to Ryder, because he was all wrong for me. Plus, he could be a real jackass. So I put on my nonchalant face when I went out to the front of the house to meet him.

“You wanted to see me,
Professor
?”

He was sprawled out on the couch, grinning up at me. “Not really. I'm only here to drive you home.”

“I don't need a babysitter.”

“Right, right. Is that why I had to step in and rescue that sweet little ass of yours this afternoon?”

Growling, I stalked back to the kitchen. I could hear him laughing as I went.

I didn't want to be the damsel in distress who needed a big, strong man to protect her. Yet, at the same time, I had a stronger desire not to be kidnapped—or worse—by Johnny. No offense to Pete, but Ryder was a much better option when it came to my personal security. That punch Pete landed was a lucky fluke. He was no fighter. Ryder, on the other hand, seemed like the type who could kill someone with his bare hands.

Brianna was waiting for me when I returned to the kitchen. She had the same worried expression on her face that she had yesterday.

“Is something wrong, Brianna?”

She nodded her head, tears forming in her eyes. I went over to her and gave her a hug. Logan was standing by the walk-in refrigerator, looking uncomfortable.

I said, “Why don't we go in the office and talk?”

She nodded and followed me to the office. Pete was still at the desk, up to his eyeballs in bills and paperwork. Brianna was one of the only employees (okay,
the
only employee) who would open up to me, and I was afraid she wouldn't speak as freely if Pete were there.

Noticing Brianna's red face, Pete asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

She looked embarrassed, so I joked, “This is a girls-only meeting.”

Pete took the hint and scurried out of the office. I was sure he wasn't interested in any more girl drama today.

We sat down, and I asked gently, “Was today not any better?”

She wiped a tear and looked away. “It's not that. I don't want to be a narc, but something has been going on that you need to know about.”

That didn't sound good. Although if this was about the credit card, I'd be happy to hear all about it. “Go on. Anything you say to me is confidential. I'll deal with the matter and leave your name out of it.”

Sighing, she said, “For a few weeks now, I've been seeing Jamie take cash from customers and put it in her pocket instead of into the cash register. She's my friend, and I don't want to get her in trouble, but I also don't want her to steal from Pete. He's such a nice guy.”

Not what I'd expected, but it was cool of Brianna to stand up and tell the truth. “Wow. Thank you for telling me. I'll take care of it, and she will never know it was you who came to me.”

Brianna breathed a sigh of relief. “Whew. It feels good to get that off my chest.”

“One more thing, Brianna. Have you ever seen Jamie pocket a credit card or copy a card number, or anything like that?”

“No, I've only seen her take the cash.”

“Good. That will be easier to deal with. Did you see it happen today?”

“Yes. This afternoon, when you were gone.”

“Okay. Thanks, Brianna.”

Brianna left the office, and Pete came in a few minutes later.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Ugh. We've got a problem. Brianna said Jamie is taking cash and pocketing it instead of putting it in the till.”

“Damn it. We're doing badly enough as it is without someone stealing from us! I've never fired anyone before, have you?”

“Yeah, I have. But we do need to check out Brianna's story before we fly off the handle. Have you done the end-of-day report yet?”

He smiled. “I was in the middle of it when you kicked me out of
my
office.” Nudging me out of the way, he hit a few buttons on the computer and brought up the report. “It all looks fine to me. There's no cash missing.”

Looking over his shoulder, I ran down the list of transactions for today, and I didn't see any discrepancies, either. “Brianna said that Jamie did it today while I was gone, but this shows nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Could she have been simply taking the money and not ringing her orders in?”

“I guess, but it would only be possible to do it on drinks and pastries that she sold, not kitchen orders, because they have to be rung in to generate an order ticket for the guys in the back. That seems like a lot of risk for not much reward.”

Pete shook his head. “Well, do you think Brianna's telling the truth?”

I shrugged. “She seemed truthful to me, but who knows? She's been a little weird since Dave was killed.”

“Well, Miss Manager, this is your problem. This kind of thing is what I pay you the big bucks for,” he said, grinning at me.

“I'll just let Redheaded She-Devil out of her cage. She'll have the problem solved in no time flat.”

“Remind me not to be here when that happens. Are you ready to go home? You know you really are welcome to stay with me.”

Too tempting. “I know. But I'll be fine at my place.”

“I'll drive you.”

Cringing, I murmured, “Um…I have a ride already…”

“With who?”

I hesitated.

His face fell. “Aw, not him. Not Ryder Likeapony.”

“He's here, and he offered.”

“I don't want him in your apartment.”

Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I asked, “Are you trying to protect my virtue? Because you know that's long gone.”

Pete grimaced. “I don't like that guy. What does he have that I don't?” It was so darling that Pete was jealous of Ryder.

Taking his injured hand gently in mine, I replied, “A right hook. And probably several concealed weapons.”