Page 78 of Shattered Secrets

Ohmygod, these ladies . . .

Scarlet set the pot of coffee down and covered her heated cheeks with her hands. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh no, dear.” Mrs. Yoshida shook her head. “There’s nothing to be guilty about with that one. All those muscles and manly goodness? It’s more like yay for you!”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Green agreed. Then she pursed her lips. “He’s quite a bit older than you, though, isn’t he?”

Scarlet sucked in a breath and nodded. She hoped they weren’t going to judge.

“Is he good with Daisy?” Mrs. Green asked.

She couldn’t help her smile. “Matt’s wonderful with her.”

“Don’t you meanMatty,” Martha teased, and the ladies laughed.

“My point is”—Mrs. Green waited until the table’s attention came back to her—“so what if there’s a big age difference between you two? You’re both adults. The man obviously knows you’re a package deal and loves your little girl. And Daisy loves her Matty, too. Besides, if I could bottle up the way that man looks at you...” She shimmied her shoulders while her compatriots hooted.

Scarlet didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the better of her. “Um... how exactly does Matt look at me?”

Mrs. Abbot threw her a wink. “Like he wants to gobble you right up, hon. Yay you, indeed!”

Grabbing the coffee pot, Scarlet grinned at her favorite women. “Not gonna lie, ladies. You won’t be hearing any complaints from me.” Waving goodbye, she left Martha with her friends and continued to the next tables, chuckling the entire time.

Scarlet scanned the tables as she finished putting on a new pot of coffee. Paula was covering the far side, and everyone looked to be good, so she snagged a fresh rag and headed to the front to wipe down menus. The glamor of her job never ended.

Glancing out the front door, she frowned. The parking spots in front of the diner were angled, but a car had pulled in perpendicular to the curb. She debated whether she should say something as the driver’s side door opened. A man emerged. He was hunched over and wearing a heavy jacket. She winced. It was supposed to reach nearly eighty degrees today, but whatever. To each their own, right?

Menus now clean and dry, she placed them into their bin. The front door opened. She glanced up to greet the new customers. And froze.

The man in the heavy jacket staggered toward her. With each labored step, his jacket parted. She gasped at the bright-crimson stain covering his stomach.

Scarlet was moving before she could think. Reaching for the man, she called out, “Martha! Ray! Call 9-1-1!” She slung his arm over her shoulder, then grabbed him around his waist and tried to take some of his weight. “Sir, you need to sit.”

A customer rushed toward them with a chair. Scarlet took a step, and the man fell on top of her, bringing them both to the ground.

Somehow, she managed to scramble out from under him and get to her knees. With the help of another customer, she rolledthe groaning man onto his back. His hands were pressed to his abdomen, but the amount of blood seeping past his fingers was staggering.

Shockingly blue eyes captured Scarlet’s gaze. Something tickled the back of her mind, but it vanished when the man coughed and moaned in pain. His face was ashen.

“Hang on, sir,” she said, untying her apron. She trembled as she shook out the extra pens and notepads she kept stashed in it. Pushing his hands away, she applied pressure to his wound with the balled-up apron. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered when his lips parted with another sound of anguish.

“The ambulance is on its way,” Martha said from behind her.

“All right, everyone,” Ray called out, one arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Let’s not be looky-loos. If you want to be useful, you best send some prayers up to whoever your god is.”

“I have more towels, Scar,” Paula said, passing her a fresh one.

Taking the new towel, she tossed her blood-soaked apron to the side and reapplied pressure to his wound. She met the man’s eyes and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Did you hear that, sir? The ambulance is on its way.”

He shook his head. “Too late.”

Her gut clenched. The man’s voice was barely above a whisper, and the resigned look on his face threatened to break her heart. “Please hang on. Don’t give up. I can hear the sirens. They’re close. I promise.”

“You don’t understand . . .”

She could barely hear him, so she leaned closer. “What don’t I understand?”

He shuddered. “They’re coming for you, Sienna.”

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