Then shit went downhill.
It started when the alcohol order for The Bluewater Grill didn’t come in and I spent the whole damn night trying to balance two bars of liquor between three restaurants. Then it only got worse when Pierre called me away. I had no idea that it was to deal with a debtor.
* * *
“Mr. Hawes, there is a gentleman asking for you? Says he owes you money.”
“What the fuck?” slipped from my lips before I had a chance to rein it in.
Pierre raised his hands, helpless. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry, I tried to dissuade him from staying. He wasn’t listening. Refused to stop making a scene at his table until I got you.”
“Thank you, Pierre,” I said, my hands shoved in my pockets to hide that they were balled into fists. “Point me to him and I’ll take care of it.”
Take care of it was right. I could pretty much guarantee that he would be leaving in worse shape than he arrived.
Pierre pointed to the table in the corner, where the man sat, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing about his lips.
Fuck.
I was going to kill someone. Using all my self-control, I walked over to him. Bastard was sitting alone. When I was sure I was close enough to be out of earshot. I bent down and said softly, “You will follow me to my office right now.” His eyes widened at my tone. “And if you even attempt to do anything but that, I will find you later and I guarantee I will be even less pleasant than I am right now.
He swallowed hard and nodded.
Spinning on my heel, I walked toward the kitchen door and down the back hallway to my office.
Stepping through the door, I turned and waited for him to follow me. The minute he was over the threshold, I shut the door and turned on him.
Grabbing his wrist, I wrenched it behind his back and stepped up into his body. If he moved, he would shatter his own wrist. A cry of pain slipped past his lips.
“You motherfucker. You crossed a line coming here today. I’m not sure what makes you think it’s okay for you to come here to handle our business, but I can guarantee you were fucking wrong.” I kept my voice low and controlled so as not to alert my staff.
“But, I—”
“I don’t want to hear another goddamn word from your mouth. You went too fucking far.” With an extra push down, I heard the bones of his wrist crack at the same time his knees buckled.
Blood seeped from between his lips, from biting either the inside of his cheek or his tongue. Either way, at that moment, I didn’t give a shit.
“I see you’re wise enough not to call any more attention to yourself. Let’s see if you can continue to use your brain.”
He nodded once, sharply.
“You’re going to walk out of here like nothing is wrong. Later you’re going to get your wrist checked out, and tell them you caught yourself with it when you tripped. Finally you’re going to meet me at the designated meeting place the next home game. That’s where we’ll discuss your loan and the increased interest rate. Do I make myself clear?
“Yes,” he choked out.
“Good, now get the fuck out of my sight before you leave with more than a broken wrist.”
He walked out and I flopped down into the couch in my office. I’d let anger control me again. I didn’t like the man I was without Elena and that bullshit kept me from seeing her before she left, pushing me over the edge.
* * *
At the stoplight, I glanced down at the clock. It was long after midnight. When I realized there was no way I’d be getting home at a reasonable hour, I’d called Miller and asked him to go over to my house and keep her company. After the bullshit with Palmer a few nights ago and now people coming to the restaurant to discuss business, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone—even with all the security I had on the house. I’m sure she’d already noticed the fact that Brock or Lewis went with her everywhere she went. Unless I was there, obviously.
Hitting the button to connect the phone to the car, I called Miller.
“Yo, bro, you on your way finally?”
“No hello?”
“Hey, I spent the night hanging out with your woman, and since you won’t let me have a go at her I kind of want to go out and find one of my own.”
My fingers clenched around the wheel. “You son of a bitch, you better keep your hands to yourself. I hope she kicks you in the balls for saying that.”
He burst into laughter. “Do you think I’m stupid? I like her. I don’t want her to hate me. She fell asleep on the couch about an hour ago.”
I sighed. I’d missed my chance . . . again. The words had almost slipped out in the restaurant, until Pierre interrupted.