Deep(36)

“Oh, my God.” She looked him in the eye. “Be Good Nick. Please. Please be Good Nick.”



That plea stopped him cold. She was not of his world. She’d already been hurt, bare minutes after stepping her toe into his world. She had no clue who he was, what he was capable of, what she’d be getting herself into.



Because what he wanted with her was more than a fuck. He didn’t know what it was, but it was more than that. And he knew she wanted more, too.



He leaned back, letting go of her breast to take her face again in both hands. “No, bella. I’m not Good Nick. There is no Good Nick.”



He kissed her forehead and left her apartment.





~ 8 ~





“You can sit in the booth at the back.” Bev pointed at the farthest booth against the front wall.



Donnie looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…it’s pretty far from the door here.”



“So you’ll be able to see people coming in.” Bev had figured out that Donnie wasn’t an experienced bodyguard. But he was definitely watchful, and he was nice. He’d been good company these past few days.



“Okay, yeah. Sounds good.” He went over and sat on the side of the booth that faced the door. He yawned, his jaw cracking. He didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep the night before, and he’d been on early today. Bev had had to be in for her shift at Sal’s at five o’clock.



“I’ll get you coffee. Regular? And you want breakfast?” As she asked, she headed toward the back. She usually came through the back, but Donnie had wanted to scope the front entrance, even though the diner wasn’t even open yet.



“Sure—just pancakes and sausage. Tall stack.”



“Comin’ right up as soon as the grill’s up.” She went around to the kitchen and came face to face with a worried Bruce. “Hi, Bruce.”



“Hi, sunshine. You okay?” He looked under the empty ticket wheel, to the dining room and Donnie. “What’s he doing here?”



“I’m okay. A lot better.” She was. She still felt a little achy, but she was much better than Saturday. Four full days had passed since Friday night, and she was ready to be out in the world again—even if it meant traveling everywhere with her new friend, Donnie.



Bruce was still looking at Donnie, who was absently perusing the menu. Noticing a furtive look about her boss, Bev asked, “Do you know him?”



Guilt clear on his face, Bruce said, “I’ve seen him around, yeah. He’s bad news. Why’d he come in with you?”



Donnie didn’t seem like bad news to her at all. “Donnie? He’s my…my bodyguard, I guess.” At Bruce’s sharp look, she went on, “Sounds stupid, I know. It’s complicated, but he’s supposed to follow me around until whoever blew up Nick’s truck is caught. I guess. I don’t understand everything.”



Now something like parental concern pushed guilt or nervousness from his face. Bruce was forty, hardly old enough to be her father—younger than Nick, in fact—but he still treated all his waitresses with that sort of protective affection. “Nick Pagano, huh? How’d you fall in with the likes of him?”



“He’s my neighbor. And I guess I did ‘fall’ in. It all happened fast. I’m okay, though. And Donnie’s just going to sit there, if that’s okay.”



“Taking up a booth? All day?”



“Through my shift. And it’s Wednesday, Bruce. We never have a full house on a Wednesday off-season, right?”



“Yeah, right. Okay. I guess you want me to feed him, too.” He looked yet again into the dining room. Bev had the clear and potent sense that Bruce knew Donnie in some other way—and not just that he’d ‘seen him around.’ She wondered what Donnie usually did for the Paganos, when he wasn’t following her around.



But she didn’t think it was her business, so she said, “If you don’t mind. Tall stack and sausage.” When he nodded, she kissed his cheek, patted his arm and went to change into her uniform and clock in.





~oOo~





The day was a usual, quiet weekday. The regular breakfast crowd, mostly elderly couples, came in. Chief Lumley sat at his usual spot at the counter and had his usual coffee and jelly stick while he read the paper. Bev noticed him and Donnie exchanging words, and she stopped and watched, too far to eavesdrop. They seemed to be doing nothing more than pleasantly chatting.



Donnie ate his breakfast and then spent most of his time on his phone. Bev imagined that being a bodyguard might well be one of the most boring jobs in the history of work.