Page 34 of Iron Shield
She pulled in a deep breath. “He scared the crap out of me, and I dropped the pizza.”
Rome’s expression didn’t change. “What else can you remember? Was there anything on the table in front of him? Equipment of any kind?”
“I-I think he had his phone out. But everyone uses their phone, especially when they’re eating alone.”
He nodded. “Tell me about dropping the pizza.”
“The pizza slid right off the tray.” She made a helpless gesture. “The whole thing. It landed on his hand and arm.”
“Burn him?”
She nodded. “Those things are blistering when they come fresh out of the oven. He jumped up and started freaking out, waving his arms. I thought he was going to hit me.”
Rome locked his angular jaw.
She groaned and covered her face. “My manager was furious. It was only my second day on the floor. I thought I was getting fired right there. The restaurant offered to cover everything,” she continued. “Medical bills. Dry cleaning.Whatever he needed. We gave him paperwork and told him to bring us the receipts.”
“Did he?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s the weird part. He stormed out, but he never came back. Never called. Never sent bills. Never even told us where to send compensation, and no lawyers ever contacted the restaurant.”
By the time she finished, her throat ached from holding back emotion. Hearing that voice was…
She shuddered, and Rome tightened his hold on her hand. His stare fixed on her, like he decided at that moment, he was her anchor.
“My manager put me on probation for longer than normal. Like probation-plus.”
Rome huffed out what might have been the closest thing he’d ever come to a laugh. “Probation-plus?”
“I think he invented it just for me.”
“You do have that effect on people.”
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.
Then the smile faded as the memory settled back over her. She told him everything she remembered about the way the customer sounded, how he loomed over her and how when he screamed in her face, it wasn’t the robotic voice.
Her words tangled, and Rome’s thumb gently grazed over the back of her hand. It probably was nothing—an accident. But her body latched on to the comfort, and she reached for his other hand.
He stared at her open palm, but he didn’t move to take it.
In a sudden move, he released her and pushed away from the table. Before her mind could catch up, he strode to the door.
“Stay here. I need to debrief with Cannon.”
He walked out, leaving her to stare at his back.
That was it?
He’d let her borrow his strength long enough to get through the telling of an ugly moment she’d never expected to relive. Then, the second the mission no longer required it, he put the distance back between them?
She didn’t know what she’d even say, assuming he gave her a chance to say it.
Don’t go. Stay. Thanks.
You’re a jerk.
Any of those might have worked.
