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side of the Dearbhorgaill matriarch, not unless
they landed on her shit list.
    Like Eva, and by extension, him.
    No point in trying to dodge questions. Mr.
Brute would beat the facts out of him. Hellfire, Lady Almeda Dearbhorgaill
would order him beaten anyway—no matter what he did or said or how he begged.
    “She went away for the weekend with her
friend Casey. To some resort. It was a surprise for Eva’s birthday so I don’t
know her location.”
    “I require her signature on some paperwork.
When will she return?”
    “Casey said they’d be away for five solar
days.”
    Lady Dearbhorgaill scowled, then a crafty
grin crawled across her features and it was the scariest thing Robbie had seen
since the day a bovinebeest charged him in the forest and injured his leg when
he was a youth. Hellfire, he owed Eva his loyalty but at what cost? What would
the lady bitch do next?
    “Call her.”
    Robbie hadn’t managed to contact Eva since
her com-circle cut out abruptly. He wasn’t worried—much.
    Robbie picked up his com-circle and pushed
a button. Anticipating the next order, he put the unit on speaker so they could
all hear the summoning tone. Robbie ended the call and stated the obvious.
“She’s not answering. Must be out of range.”
    “But I need that signature.”
    A trace of desperation echoed in the crisp
notes, poking at Robbie’s curiosity. Not that he was cracked enough to ask
questions. Oh no. He kept his lips firmly closed, his gaze downcast to offer
the respect the Dalcon elite expected from the lower castes.
    “How are you paying the wages, the bills
while she’s away?”
    “She left me several signed transfer
certificates.”
    “I’ll take them. Give them to me. All of
them.”
    The wild creature in his chest took flight
again, bashing the hell out of his ribs and attempting a new escape path up his
throat. Gaze still downcast, he limped toward the small office at the back of
the restaurant. His knees trembled and for one horrid moment, he wondered if
they’d fail and land him in a face plant on the floor.
    Aware of the woman and the hulk at his
back, he forced his legs to bear his weight and made it to the office. He sank
to his knees, his hands sweaty and trembling when he turned the old-fashioned
dial of the safe back and forth to the pre-set positions. He pushed down on the
handle and the multi-locks disengaged. Robbie’s breath hissed out with relief.
At least he hadn’t messed that up.
    He picked up the large envelope bearing the
currency transfer certificates. They were all blank and already signed by Eva.
    “How many are there?” Lady Dearbhorgaill
demanded.
    “Th-three,” Robbie said.
    “Perfect.” Her eyes glittered in a kind of
sick triumph. “Ready cash?”
    Robbie gulped. “Not much. Just a float for
when we open. I-I’ve already been to the bank.” Hellfire, he hoped the old
bitch believed him.
    “I’ll take that too.”
    Robbie grabbed a faux-cotton bag and thrust
it at the woman. She took it and shoved it inside her bag along with the
envelope.
    “Knock him out. Toss the place. Give the
appearance of a robbery,” she said, and exited the restaurant without looking
back.
    No remorse.
    No concern.
    No guilt.
    Just an uppity rich woman who thought she
ruled the world.
    Robbie blinked when the hulk lunged from
his position. For a big dude, he moved fast. Robbie felt the rush of wind
against his face seconds before the fist connected with his jaw. That was the
last thing he remembered.
    * * * * *
    “Rob. Rob-bie.” Someone was shaking the
crap out of him. “Robbie, wake up.”
    Robbie groaned. His eyes flickered.
Everything hurt. Especially his head.
    “He’s okay. He’s alive,” a female voice
said. “Did ya call security?”
    “On their way,” a man said.
    “What happened?” Robbie pushed himself into
a sitting position. Nausea clawed its way up from his stomach and he swallowed.
    “Don’t you remember?” Dina, one of the
waitresses, crouched at his