Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

ANDREAS

“ I f I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying having Zeva as your houseguest,” Liam says as we lock up the restaurant for the night.

I ignore his insistent prying, although I know he has no intention of stopping.

“You like like her.”

“Does saying it twice make it truer?”

Liam chuckles. “There he is.”

“I didn’t think it was possible, especially not after a week, but yes, having Zeva in my home feels right. She’s kind, and quirky…”

“Zeva makes you feel alive,” Liam finishes.

“She has this way of smiling that’s contagious. I don’t just want to smile with her, I want to taste the sensation on her lips, and inhale the feel into my lungs.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are in love.”

I pause when we get to the door. Am I in love? My stomach flutters at the thought of going home, knowing she’s there. At the idea of sharing a meal or watching her eat. I smile. Then sober as I wait for betrayal to come. Betrayal for loving someone other than my wife. It doesn’t come. And I don’t love Amber any less either.

I’m in love.

Liam opens the door and comes face to face with three men in leather jackets. They aren’t bikers and I don’t recognize the emblems stitched into their jackets.

“We’re closed,” Liam says.

“We’re not here for the food,” says the taller of the two.

“Leave or I’ll call the police,” Liam says.

The slimmer of the three steps forward.

“Harm him and you won’t see the new year,” I say, not taking my eyes off the intruders. They must want something other than money or they would’ve already threatened or made demands for our wallets.

“What do you say, Santos?”

Santos curses, glaring at his companions. “You aren’t supposed to say my name.”

“So you’re Santos,” I say.

“And I’m Rev,” the skinny one says. “And that’s John.”

“I’m guessing that you’re the leader,” I say, pointing to Santos. I don’t know who these men are, but they are not professionals.

“Image our good fortune to find out Andreas Lister lives in Magnolia. The Andreas?—”

“He’s lived in this town for three years. Everyone knows he owns Mad Vine,” Liam says in exasperation. “That doesn’t tell us what you want.”

I have a sneaky suspicion their reference to me has nothing to do with my restaurant.

“We want what he’s done for his friends,” Santos says. “We want to make money?—”

“Lots of money,” Rev says.

“In a semi-legal way.”

Somehow, these idiots knew about my past life or thought they knew who I was and the extent of my involvement in the mafia. “You don’t want me anywhere near you, I promise.”

“You have three days to give me your answer,” Santos says. “Work for me and nothing bad happens.”

“Who told you I lived in Magnolia?” I ask.

He pulls a newspaper tucked into the back of his pants and tosses it at me.