She stared at the table, mortified Cujo was there to witness her humiliation.
“I’m sorry.It is still saying declined.Do you have cash or an alternate credit card you could try?”
Drea opened her wallet.Damn.She’d left her tips in her locker.As she flicked through the sections filled with receipts and copies of prescriptions, a hand came to rest over hers.
“Drea.”She couldn’t look up.She didn’t need his pity or help.“Drea, look at me.”
She raised her eyes.If he could just wait twenty minutes, she could resolve this.
“It’s just cheap Mexican between friends.I got this.”He handed his card to the server and waited for her to enter the amount.
She grabbed her things and stood quickly.“I’m sorry.I’ll go back to the café—I left my tips there.Wait outside, I’ll pay you back,” she said and dashed for the door.
***
Cujo paid the bill and ignored their server’s blatant attempts to get his phone number while stalling the payment process.
Drea had looked so incredibly crushed.He’d never gotten the impression she had money worries.
He tried her phone, but got her voice mail.“Hey, you’ve reached Drea.Please leave a message, and if you’re nice and I like you, I’ll call you back.”
Cujo hung up.As a general rule, he didn’t do voice mail.He hated it.Felt awkward.He started to jog in the direction of the café.Perhaps he’d catch her before she even got there.Seriously, they were talking about ten bucks, max.Not a big deal.
He pushed the unlocked door to José’s open.“Hey, Shortcake.Where’d you go?”No answer.
The lights in the café were off, but the lights in the back were on.Perhaps in her hurry to get back to him, she’d forgotten to lock the door?Seemed like the ditzy kind of thing she might do, although he’d fire her ass for it if it were his shop.
Drea walked out of the back followed by a dude who looked like a clichéd extra from an eighties rock video.Long frizzy hair that was either a really bad perm or the guy was hugely unlucky in the hair stakes.His worn leather jacket had seen better days, and beaten-up cowboy boots completed the ensemble.Definitely not Drea’s type he guessed, yet he had his arm tightly around Drea’s shoulders.
“What’s going on?You okay?”Cujo studied Drea, who seemed frozen.Her hands hung rigid by her sides.
“I’m fine,” she said tightly.“Thanks for dinner… ummm, I’ll pay you back tomorrow.You should… go.”
She looked anything but fine.She hadn’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.Everything about the guy was setting off alarm bells.
“Listen, man.You want to tell me what’s going on?”Drea flinched slightly as the jerk tightened his arm around her.That was the only signal he needed.There was no way she wanted to be where she was right now.
“Well, see, Andrea and I have been friends for a good long while, haven’t we, Andrea?”
Drea’s panic-filled eyes suddenly looked at Cujo.No fucking way she wasn’t terrified.He leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, an automatic shift into a fighter’s stance.The air was electrified Drea was motionless.The he remembered she hated being called Andrea.
“Andrea, come here.”This didn’t feel right.Didn’t feel right, at all.
Drea shook her head furiously.“Please, Cujo.Believe me.You need to go.I’m fine.”
“Her daddy asked me to check up on her, isn’t that right, Andrea?”
“Please, go.”Drea echoed, her voice much lower than usual.
Cujo took one last look around for something to help.The only thing he had were his fists, which, thanks to Frankie, his MMA trainer, were more than ready for what he was about to do.
He took a small step toward the door, a fake to put the guy off guard.Regardless of what his gut was telling him, Drea begged him to leave.But healwayslistened to his gut.He ran toward the guy, was nearly there when the asshole flashed a gun and pointed it at Drea’s head.
What the fuck?
“See, that was a really bad move,” the guy said.
Cujo stopped dead in his tracks.
