Page 41 of Penalty Kiss
"Anything else?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say, pulling out my wallet and handing him a twenty. "See that guy in the gray suit who just walked in? The one trying very hard not to look in our direction?"
Tyler glances toward the entrance, and I see his eyes widen slightly. "Yeah?"
"Find an excuse to walk past his table. Listen to what he's saying. If he mentions me or Tara, you come tell me immediately." I hand him another twenty. "And Tyler? This stays between us."
The kid pockets the money and nods, suddenly looking much more serious. "Got it, Mr. Wilder."
As Tyler walks away, Tara pretends to wipe the table. "Did you just recruit a teenage spy?"
"I recruited a teenage informant. There's a difference."
She shakes her head, but I catch the hint of a smile. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm thorough." I take a sip of coffee—regular, thankfully—and study the man in question. Mid-forties, expensive suit,trying too hard to look casual while checking his phone every thirty seconds.
He doesn't look like family muscle. Too nervous. Too obvious.
"Probably just a businessman," Tara says, following my gaze. "Cedar Falls gets its share of them passing through."
"Maybe." But my instincts are singing, and I learned a long time ago to trust them.
My phone buzzes. Text from Levi:
So… how was your first night at Tara’s? Town's already planning the wedding.
I huff a laugh and angle the screen toward her.
She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Of course he’d ask. The whole town probably placed bets.”
“Could be worse,” I say, tapping back a quick reply. “Could be more anonymous psychos threatening us.”
Tara’s shoulders tightened, and she doesn't laugh. The casualness of Levi’s text suddenly feels wrong, a reminder that while the town gossiped, a real threat still lurk, unseen and hungry.
My head fuzzes suddenly, the edges of the room smearing.
Damn PCS. I lock on Gray Suit, then on Tara gliding between patrons. She doesn’t even need a notepad—every order tucked away like muscle memory. Easy. Natural. Unfortunately for me, what used to come without thought, now takes effort.
The dizziness passes, slow and stubborn.
Then I watch Tyler makes his move. armed with a coffee pot, moving past Gray Suit's table with the practiced invisibility of good service staff. The man barely glances at him, too focused on his phone conversation.
A few minutes later, Tyler returns to refill my mug, leaning in slightly.
"He's not talking about you," Tyler reports quietly. "Something about quarterly projections and a conference call at two."
I slip him another ten. "Good work, kid. Keep an eye out."
As Tyler walks away, Tara comes back to my table, pretending to wipe it down.
“Helping a pro hockey player run surveillance? You know he's going to use this story to get dates for the rest of high school, right?”
“Yeah, probably." I grin at her. “Kid just punched his ticket to prom season.”
She finally cracks, lips curling into a smile. “Awww…” she drawls, exaggerated and teasing, like she’s mocking me and melting me at the same time.
Something tight in my chest eases. Damned if that sound doesn’t land harder than any cheer I’ve ever heard from the stands.
