Page 9 of Long Shot

“Don’t use all the tortillas,” Sid protests. “We won’t have enough for tacos.”

“Someone can make a run to the wholesaler after lunch and get more.” I cut more tortillas into wedges. Soon Jenn and I are frying them into crispy golden triangles. While Jenn attends to that, I arrange tomatoes, jalapenos, onions, limes, and cilantro at a station.

“You can’t do this,” Sid keeps saying, but I keep ignoring him. It’s too hard to resist.

I chop and slice and arrange tomatoes, peppers, and onions onto a big baking sheet, drizzle them with oil, then pop them into a hot oven.

“What are you doing?” Sid’s practically wringing his hands.

“Roasting the vegetables. It makes the salsa roja taste better.” I salt the tortilla chips then pop one into my mouth. “Awesome. Here. Try.”

Sid reluctantly takes a chip and eats it. He rolls his eyes. “It’s good.”

I grin. Inspired, I grab some avocados and tomatillos, marveling that Sid actually has tomatillos. “How about avocado tomatillo salsa?” There aren’t any serrano peppers, so I use jalapeños again, tossing tomatillos, peppers, avocado, and fresh lime juice into the food processor, then adding salt. I taste it, closing my eyes to hunt out all the nuances, add more salt, then scoop it out into a container.

“What are we going to do with this stuff?” Sid asks, completely at a loss. “It’s not on the menu.”

“People always order chips and salsa,” I say. “This time they’ll get something special.”

“This is amazing,” Jenn says.

“Thanks.”

Although the salsa roja is often pureed, I prefer more texture, so I set about chopping the roasted vegetables along with garlic, then a handful of cilantro and of course salt.

Now Paul, the line cook, joins in to taste-test. “Needs to be chilled,” I say. “But it’s pretty good.”

“It’s fucking fantastic,” Paul says.

Sid sighs.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

I lift my head to see Cade. “We’re conducting the San Diego Symphony. What does it look like?”

Jenn and Paul choke on a laugh, but Sid speaks up. “She came in here and took over! I couldn’t stop her.”

I tip my head and give Sid a long look. “Jeez. I didn’t take over. I’m just trying a few things.”

“And they’re really good,” Jenn puts in.

“You’re not a cook!” A vein in Cade’s temple pulses as he gapes at me. “You can’t just walk into the kitchen and start making shit.”

My heart picks up speed and I grab a towel to wipe my hands. “You’re right. I’m not a cook.”

“Get back out to the front of the house.” Cade points at me. “We have customers waiting to be looked after.”

Shit. I hesitate, clutching the towel, then toss it down. Biting my lip, I hurry out.

4

CADE

Once again I find myself with hands clenched into fists, muscles tense, my breathing rapid. For Chrissakes, even when the helicopter I was in crashed as we were landing for a nighttime raid on an al Qaeda cell, I didn’t have this much adrenaline flooding my veins and making me lose my shit.

What the hell is she doing?

I close my eyes briefly, thinking about how red her cheeks were as she stalked out. I broke a rule I learned early when I became a team leader—praise in public, criticize in private. I’ve tried to apply that to the people we hire at Conquistadors, along with other rules, like take the heat when things go wrong and occasionally buy the beers. Goddammit, Reese riled me up so much I forgot it and embarrassed her in front of her coworkers. I’m an asshole.

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