“You okay, Claire?” Lance craned his neck through the service window and took quick stock of the dining area. “You look a little rattled.”
She gave a nervous laugh and slid the plate of salad off the sheet-metal serving area. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little chilled.”
“You better not get sick,” he chided in a playful tone. “I can’t afford to not have you around.”
“Don’t worry, Lance. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”
Claire kept her eyes focused on the salad, but she felt the priest’s eyes following her. She set the plate down at table five. “Can I get you anything else?”
The woman looked up from her iPad. “No thanks.”
“All right, then, enjoy. And let me know if you need anything.”
For a moment, her steps faltered with indecision. Her stomach curled up into a ball as she approached the counter, grabbing a menu from a rack near the cash register. She plastered the widest, fakest smile she could muster on her face and slid the menu in front of the priest. “We serve breakfast all day, so feel free to order anything from the menu. Just give me a holler when you’re ready.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you.”
His lips spread into a seductive smile that made Claire’s skin crawl. Eww. If she’d thought the priest was strange before, he’d just cranked his creepy factor up to a ten. He exuded a strange calm and a laser focus that unsettled her, and it took a hell of a lot to throw Claire off her game. No way in hell was this guy a real priest. He was working an angle. It took a con to know a con and this guy was on the take.
She just needed to figure out what his angle was.
Her feeling of unease intensified with each passing moment. Claire busied herself by wiping down tables and refilling salt and sugar shakers, but even that wasn’t enough to distract her. As far as she could tell, the priest hadn’t looked at the menu once. Rather, he seemed more interested in studying her, those dark, emotionless eyes tracking her every movement like those of a predator waiting to pounce.
Hustlers were superprotective of their territories. Like bears in the woods, they didn’t play well with others and often patrolled their individual turfs, making sure to keep any squatters from moving in on their hunting grounds. Claire had known it was a mistake to hit that pool hall. Maybe the priest was here to deliver a message. Something along the lines of, Stay off my street or I’ll bust you in the face.
Not good.
And like animals, a good hustler could smell fear. She’d always had a good bead on people, and the priest was as cool and composed as they came. Which meant Claire needed to pull her shit together. She couldn’t show any sign of weakness. If she was lucky, she’d get off with a warning. Worst-case scenario, he’d try to rough her up to drive his point home. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been on the receiving end of a little physical persuasion, but Claire was going to do everything in her power to avoid it tonight.
“Are you ready to order?” She clutched her pencil so tight that she thought it might snap in her grip.
He gave her a wan smile and said, “I’ll just have coffee. Black.”#p#分页标题#e#
Of course. As black as his soul, no doubt. “Sure.” Claire infused her tone with cheeriness as she grabbed a cup. “Decaf or high-octane?”
“Whatever you prefer.” That same unnerving smile.
She grabbed a pot from the warmer and poured him a cup. She slid it over to him, but he made no move to take it, simply continued to watch her. “Sugar is right over there,” Claire said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Good lord. The Mona Lisa had nothing on this guy’s smile.
Claire suppressed a shiver as she made the rounds, checking on her other tables. She wished they were busier tonight. If anything, her brain needed the distraction. Salad Lady paid her check and left a fifty-cent tip—not stellar—while the burger guys were still working on their fries. That left Claire nothing to do but spend a little quality time with the priest. Awesome.
“How’re you doing over here?” she asked with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “Can I get you a slice of pie? We’ve got a great Dutch apple today.”
“No thank you. The coffee is fine.”
His voice was smooth and slick, as though coating her senses with oil. His words weighed her down—or was that just exhaustion rearing its ugly head? Either way, it caused Claire’s stomach to curl into an anxious knot.
“Tell me, do you live around here? I know most of my parishioners, but I have to confess, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at mass.”