Page 40 of Taking Care of the Target

Funny that she read the entire description of her husband’s meal, but hadn’t bothered to read her own.

Well, at least the crowd’s colorful tonight.While Cassie didn’t mind that, she thought again about Vince’s culinary school suggestion. She constantly had to put herself out there as a waitress, and she’d love to be in the back, creating the dishes instead.

That way someone could be complainingI’dused basil instead of rosemary,she thought with a smile.

“I can get you some rosemary if you want,” Cassie said.

“That’d be lovely.”

On her way to the kitchen she ran into Tyra, because that was how this day was going.

“Why don’t you ever wear contacts to work?”

“I have issues with sticking my finger in my eye, so I don’t own contacts.”

Tyra gave her a condescending, aren’t-you-precious type expression. “I just think it would amp up your whole look. I bet you’d get better tips, too.” With that, she took off.

Culinary school was looking better by the second.

***

Fifteen minutes after Cassie’s shift ended, and Vince still wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure if she should call or assert her independence by showing she was perfectly capable of walking home alone.

Tyra glanced at her sitting in the waiting area, and Cassie decided either way, she needed to get out of McCarthy’s. She’d spent her break and the last few minutes looking into culinary institutes.

Her mind was still spinning with the information she’d found when she stepped outside. She scrolled down to Vince’s name in her phone as she started toward her apartment.

At the sounds of yelling, she froze. Adrenaline surged and she frantically glanced around.

“I’m not here to hurt her, I swear!”

The voice was coming from…there. Vince had a dark-haired guy halfway out the window of a silver car, his fists gripping the guy’s collared shirt.

“Oh, crap,” she said, breaking into a jog.

She only caught fragments of the conversation.

“… a P.I,” the struggling guy said. “I’ve just been hired…find her.” He looked about Vince’s age, with similar features. Dark hair, olive skin. Not nearly as ripped, though, which didn’t bode well for him right now.

“Vince!” she yelled, and he glanced at her.

“Hey, baby. I found out who’s been following you. Should we find out who asked him to do it?” He leaned closer to the guy’s face, menace dripping off him. “Who hired you?”

“I can’t disclose the name.”

Vince lifted the guy higher, the muscles in his arms flexing, and his voice turned hard as steel. “Wrong answer.”

“Okay, okay. It was one of her classmates. She stopped showing up, and my client hired me to see what happened. I guess they were friends.”

Vince turned to her. “Who were your college friends?”

Cassie stared at him. Was this seriously happening? Any minute, someone was going to call the police. “Um, hello? Memory challenged, remember?”

Vince loosened his grip on the man’s collar, and he slid into the car. “Right.”

“Look, I’ll tell my client whatever you want,” Mr. Private Investigator said. “If you don’t want to be found, that’s fine.”

Cassie leaned in to talk to the guy, and Vince held his arm out, keeping her back. “You can give your client my number, andI’lldecide.”

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