His lips quirked. There were few things that made him smile in this place, but the owner of The Last Resort was one of them. For some reason her appearance and little challenge had brightened an otherwise sobering few months.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” he said. “So you have done business with her before?”
“Now and then. She can’t ignore me, you know. I’m the king around here. She’s too old for my taste and has a bit more brains.” Dilaver leaned on his cane, nodding to his bodyguards to follow him. “She’s given me good information sometimes. I told you she sleeps with the CIVPOL chief, so sometimes she passes on to me that there’s a raid coming on such and such a date, and I get to save some trouble and money by warning mykafenasupervisors to shut down before the police comes. That’s why I don’t bother her too much.”
“I see.” Jed was right. The woman couldn’t be entirely trusted, if she used information gathered from a lover like that. Hawk wondered whether there was anyone left in this town who wasn’t corrupt in one form or another.
Bells jingled as soon as they opened the door, announcing their arrival. The main eating area was half filled, with most of the guests in uniform. Someone had started the jukebox in the corner and a familiar American dance tune was playing.
“We’re here for lunch,” Dilaver said to the woman standing behind the counter.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the restaurant is only open for dinners. We only serve American cakes and coffee in the afternoon.”
“You go to the back and tell Miss Hutchens that Dilaver has brought an American guest here for lunch and he wants to try her specialty.” Dilaver lifted a brow. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
The woman nodded and hurriedly went through a doorway behind her. Some of the soldiers in the café had already noticed the new arrivals and had started to look at them expectantly. News of Dilaver being back in town was probably making the rounds. The woman reappeared.
“Miss Hutchens said to take you to the private dining area. Please follow me.”
Dilaver gave Hawk a triumphant smile as they followed the woman to the back where there was a screened-off area. The bodyguards positioned themselves in front of the screen as they sat down.
The woman handed them some menus. “She’ll be with you shortly.”
Dilaver perused the menu. “I hate American food. I’m only doing this for you.”
Hawk wished he could eat this meal alone. “Much appreciated,” he said.
“I know you’ve been dying for some hamburger.” Dilaver laughed.
The man was fixated with dying. “You did say it’s the best in town,” Hawk said.
“Well, order whatever you like. You can even have the owner if you want her. She’s quite a meal herself.”
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” a voice smoothly interrupted.
Hawk looked up. Amber Hutchens stood near the screen, dressed casually in a work shirt and jeans. Her sleeves were rolled up, as if she had been busy in the kitchen, and he could see flour stains on the dark material of her jeans. Her eyes narrowed just a little at the sight of him, but otherwise her expression didn’t betray any surprise at the sight of them.
“Amber,kako ste!”
“Fine, thank you, Dragan. How was your trip to Asia?”
Dilaver scowled. “I’m still limping from that fiasco. They don’t know how to do business there and the food’s too damn spicy. And they have shitwater for beer.”
Amber came closer to the table, a small smile on her lips that never quite reached her eyes. “Didn’t sound like the vacation you said you were going to have, huh?” She took the tray from a waitress who appeared, setting the glasses of water for Dilaver, then Hawk. Her eyes met Hawk’s for the first time. “And is this your new friend?”
This close, in the light of day, Hawk had time to take in everything about Amber more leisurely. The first thing that caught his attention was her eyes; she had the blackest pupils set against a teal blue. Cat’s eyes. The kind that glowed in the dark. And she was looking at him the way one would, too—as if she were deciding whether to be bored or interested with this particular human being. It made him want to laugh out loud.
There was the slightest tilt at each corner of her lips, giving her that secretive Mona Lisa smile. Her complexion was as silky smooth as he remembered, with the barest of lipstick. He caught a whiff of her perfume when she leaned over to place the glass next to him. A hint of vanilla and something else. He also noticed she didn’t wear any rings on her small, slender hands, but then she could have taken them off while she worked in the kitchen.
“He’s as American as you. Can’t you tell?”
She studied Hawk for a second, then shrugged. “Not really. Does he talk?”
Dilaver laughed. “He’s a shy boy, is Hawk, aren’t you, my friend?”
“Very,” Hawk agreed. He returned the same perusal Amber gave him. “Very nice to finally meet you, Miss Hutchens.”
“Oh? Sounds like you’ve been planning on it.”
