Hunt Her Down by Roxanne St. Claire

Author:Roxanne St. Claire [Claire, Roxanne St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pocket Star Books

CHAPTER TWELVE

COULD THIS BE possible? Did they have the best Thursday night ever or had she counted the receipts wrong? Brandy knocked her knuckles on the bar and stared at the readout. There had to be a mistake. She needed to run the numbers again.

“Hey, Milk Dud,” she called out. “What time is it?”

The kitchen door punched open and Dudley Matheson beamed at her, a navy bandanna wrapped around his shaved head, his blue eyes bright, considering he’d been cooking, washing, and working his damn ass off since four that afternoon and he loathed the nickname.

“Snapper spawning hour, my friend.” He held up a small cooler. “Got the chum here, and Jimmy’s picking me up in five minutes at the dock.”

“Really? It’s that late?” She’d lived in the Keys long enough to know those little buggers mated after two a.m., and the hard-core fishermen were out there to catch them in the act. “No wonder I’m beat.”

“That last table of tourists couldn’t say die, huh?”

She shrugged. “They will suffer tomorrow, that’s for sure. Had a couple of hundred on the tab when they finally closed.” She pointed at the calculator. “Contributing to what appears to have been a stellar night.”

“Kitchen’s done and locked up,” Dudley said. “You going out the front? I’ll walk you to your car.”

She made a face at the pile of receipts. “I want to run these numbers one more time so I can call Lena with the right amount tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “No can do, boss. Lena left strict orders that you are not allowed to walk to your car alone with cash.”

“I won’t take the cash, Dud. I’ll lock it up. And I’m parked next to the kitchen door, so there’s nowhere for you to walk me. You go out the front, I’ll lock it behind you, and I’ll leave through the back.”

His look said he didn’t like the plan.

“Come on.” She jumped off the stool and pulled her key ring from the pocket of her shorts. “You’ve worked too long and too hard to miss this boat ride to snapper heaven.”

He hesitated, but she marched right by him, unlocked the door, and held it open for him.

“You sure, Brandy? I don’t mind waiting.”

“I’m fine.” She hit him on the shoulder. “Go forth and fish. Catch enough so we can fry it and sell it at a ridiculous profit tomorrow. I’ll give you a cut.”

He grinned and blew a kiss to her, heading straight out to the marina, where there were enough engines running to assure her that all was right in the home of twenty-fourhour fishing. She locked the door and went back to the numbers which, miraculously, were dead-on the first time.

She finally turned out the bar lights, locked the cash in the office, grabbed a soda for the road, and trotted through the kitchen that Milk Dud had cleaned within an inch of its life. Shutting down the last lights, she unlatched the dead bolt and stepped outside, lifting the Diet Coke to her mouth.

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