Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

He shook his head and doused the fries in seasoning. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Look, the last thing I need is a stray cat to feed, but you seem pretty honest—I don’t know, maybe it’s the Amish garb, or maybe I’m just exhausted, and it’s making me stupid, but if you’re willing to give me a hand, you can crash here for a few nights. I could use the extra help and pay you minimum wage plus a cut of the tips, which are decent.”

“Really?” He hadn’t expected her to offer him a job, let alone a place to stay.

She glanced at his exposed forearms. “Really. Plus, I hate lugging things up the stairs. You seem…capable.”

He glanced down at the ropes of muscle covering his arms. Years of manual labor with primitive tools did that to a man. He never thought much of it since everyone on the farmwas in impeccable health and had prime physiques.

“Thank you. I’m grateful for the offer.”

“Good. You can show your gratitude by filling these orders.” She handed him a slip of paper.

He read over the list. “How do I…?”

“First, you need to cover your hair.” She plucked a hairnet from a box, then snagged a laminated sheet from the door of the steel fridge. “Everything’s written out here. Clean up when you’re done, and don’t get hurt. I gotta get back to the bar.”

As soon as she left, he sifted through the dishes, salvaging any dog-safe scraps for Colby. Once he had a plate made up for him, he ran it outside and then returned to the kitchen.

Over the next few hours, Dane had a crash course in culinary arts with minimal instruction. He couldn’t taste-test the customers’ orders as he went, so he had no clue if he was doing a good job. As long as the meat was fully cooked and no one complained, he supposed he was doing all right.

As the evening went on, he got the hang of the griddle and created a system for prepping things like onions and lettuce. When the orders stopped coming, he gave the kitchen a deep clean.

“Holy crap.”

Holding the mop handle, he looked guiltily at Gabby. “Too much?”

“Too much? I don’t think this kitchen’s ever been this clean.”

He grinned, relieved. “I wasn’t sure when the grill closed.”

“Ten o’clock.” She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “You’re good. I just cashed out the last customer so I should be locking up as soon as I get things straightened up out there.” She pointed to the far wall where a tall metal rack housed large pots and pans. “There’s a cot in the corner. I’ll see what I can find for blankets after I divvy up the tips.”

“Thank you, Gabby.”

She hesitated as if his gratitude made her nervous. “I’m just going to point out that there are cameras all over the bar.”

He nodded at her warning. “Understood.”

She looked him up and down, sighed, then returned to the front.

He continued mopping the floor. When he finished, he dumped the brown water in the large basin sink. His motions halted as a loud clatter echoed through the bar.

He went to the door, but stilled before opening it. His senses sharpened, and his heart quickened as he registered the sound of Gabby’s racing thoughts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Fill the bag,” a hostile male voice ordered.

Dane darted from the kitchen into the bar, his movements fluid and silent. Gabby stood frozenat the register as a man held a gun in her face. Her gaze shot to Dane.

He shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips and warning her not to look at him.

“Let’s go! Open the fucking register!” the man with the gun barked.

Gabby quickly did as she was told, her motions jerky and her breathing unsteady.

“Get that tip jar too.”