Night Falls on the Wicked by Sharie Kohler Read Free Book Online Page B

motioned him away. “Go away. Sit back down. I’ll get to you in a minute.”
    “He a friend of yours?” Ned demanded.
    “No,” she replied. That much was true. She didn’t even know his name. “Just a customer. Now let me go. I have a job to do.”
    He released her and rose to his feet, his chair falling back with a crash. “Who are you? You new to these parts? Don’t recall I’ve ever seen you before.”
    “Who I am is unimportant.”
    “Aw, Ned. Sit down.” Maggie arrived at Darby’s side to chastise. “No need to get your feathers ruffled. You haven’t even had dessert yet. We’vegot blueberry pie. On the house. I know it’s your favorite. You want whip cream?”
    “Yeah, Ned, sit down and stop stirring trouble,” someone called out from across the diner.
    The vein in Ned’s forehead throbbed. He glanced around, a wild look in his dark, moist eyes as he realized the tide was against him.
    With a grunt, he dropped back down in his chair.
    Maggie squeezed Darby’s arm and whispered for her ears alone. “Go on, honey. I’ll finish up at this table.”
    Darby nodded jerkily, bitter resentment filling her throat. “I could have handled it,” she muttered as she passed the stranger, careful to keep a safe distance. He smelled good. Clean and piney like the outdoors.
    She strode behind the counter and faced him as he reclaimed his stool. The normal sounds of a busy diner resumed as she reached for her pad. She stared down at the paper, intent on not meeting his stare. After yesterday, she knew the mistake that would be.
    “What will you have tonight, sir?”
    A heavy pause, and then, “I didn’t mean to upset you. You just looked like you could use some help.”
    She breathed through her nose. “I’m not upset,”she said tightly. “Now. What will you have tonight, sir.”
Keep it casual. Don’t engage.
    A long moment passed until he finally answered her. “What’s good, Darby?” The question fell evenly, mildly, as if he spoke her name all the time. As if they were old friends in the midst of a conversation.
Stupid name tag.
    Her gaze snapped up. Too late, she was caught in the snare of his eyes. They weren’t quite glowing. Not like yesterday. But they were still that deep, mesmerizing indigo that sucked her in. Such an impossible color. She couldn’t look away.
    “Tonight’s special is meatloaf.”
    “And that’s what you recommend?”
    She paused. “Stick with the cheeseburger. The meatloaf’s hit-or-miss and I haven’t heard anyone raving about it tonight.”
    “Sounds good. I’ll have that cheeseburger, Darby.”
    She swallowed. A shiver scraped her skin at the way he said her name, his accents softening it, rolling the
r
. She could love hearing that every day.
    Sucking in a breath, she scribbled down his order and turned away. Even when she realized she forgot to ask after his drink, she didn’t go back. Not yet. Not until she managed to get a moment for herself. She needed to brace herself before returning to the trap of his eyes.
    She turned in his order and seized a waiting tray of food. She worked automatically, like something cold, a robot without thought and emotion, a simply functioning machine, performing the tasks she’d done now thousands of times over the last three years. And she told herself it was enough.
    It was surviving.
    She didn’t let herself consider the emptiness of that thought. The alternative was pain. Death and misery. Not simply to herself but to untold others.
    She didn’t need the distraction sitting at the counter, the man that screamed danger despite the fact that he had helped her out tonight.
When was he leaving?
    He exuded danger—that was the promise she read in his deep gaze. He tempted her with a break from the emptiness, an escape from her numbing life. In his eyes, she
felt
again and knew that the rush of sensation, hot and cold, good and bad, was not far behind.
    She saw his order waiting at the window and stared bleakly at the