The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

Epilogue

Sabrina

“ T hank you all for coming tonight.” I looked around Viande’s dining room and smoothed the flyaway strands of my auburn bob. Every table was full. The faces that looked back at me were familiar or famous. All of them were clapping for me. Okay, not just me; it took a team to get to opening night.

“I will not talk long. You are here to eat, not to listen to me. But there are people I must thank for making tonight possible. First and foremost, my late daughter.” I paused and waved a hand in front of my face to ward off tears. “She would have been eighteen this year. Old enough to vote. Old enough to pay taxes and start college. But life didn’t work out like that for her. I miss her every day. She encouraged me to do this and not halfway do it. Like full-on, throw-caution-to-the-wind commit to my goal. She was right, there is no halfway when you’re an entrepreneur.”

I picked up a glass of champagne and lifted it up. My eyes followed my glass, looking up but not seeing the freshly painted ceiling or decorative beams. Instead I saw the smile on my daughter's face. “Hailey, we did it.”

I took a sip of wine and forced it down past the lump in my throat. God, I missed my daughter.

Calls of cheers and to Hailey rang out around the room.

I locked eyes with Michael, and he blew me a kiss. He beamed with pride, love, and relief. For the last week, I’d been living on caffeine and adrenaline. Sleep was for other people, but through it all, he’d stuck to our bargain. He offered back rubs and hugs, only stepping in to do what I asked beyond that. And trust me, there’d been plenty of tasks I’d asked of him. He and I were learning to be partners.

He sat at a table with John and Kira Smith, Quinn, Gunter, and his therapist Benjamin, an ex-special forces guy that went back to school for psychology after a roadside bomb cost him his leg. Benjamin looked like part of the team at the Smith Agency—big and scary. We’d been trying to set him up with Quinn. It was not going great, and we weren’t sure why.

“Next, a huge thanks to George Miller Construction and Angie Ramous Designs. George built this place twice and did a marvelous job. Anyone looking for a contractor, he’s your guy. Angie, you turned my Pinterest board into a reality. Thank you, it’s gorgeous. George and Angie deserve a round of applause.”

I encouraged George and Angie to stand for recognition. They sat at a four top with their spouses. In the six weeks between January first and today, they performed a miracle. Angie found replacement material for everything damaged in the vandalism, and George got it all repaired. The smell of fresh paint still lingered in the bar, but I was sure the aromas from the kitchen would disguise it.

“The next thank you is to my team. In the kitchen there are twenty-plus people hard at work from line cooks to waitstaff that will make tonight and every night at Viande a success. They are my backup, and I’d never be able to do it without them. A special shout out to Katie Bartholomew, Viande’s pastry chef and my best friend. You’ll all understand how valuable an addition she is to the Viande family when you taste dessert.”

Katie had been a rock and my savior. In the last week, if I’d asked Michael to do fifty things, I’d asked Katie to do a hundred. She didn’t know it, but as soon as the profits warranted the expense, I wanted to offer her the job of general manager. She was practically doing it already.

“Last, I want to thank the people in this room.” My throat closed up. I had to pause and catch my breath. “Every person in here is part of my success story. Your support and loyalty to my brand made this possible. To every one of you that stood in line for a taco from my food truck or hired me to cater your event or watched me on reality TV or donated to my crowdfunding campaign. I am humbled. Thank you.”

I lifted my shaking hand, holding the champagne flute up. My gaze wandered the room, stopping on each table. I mouthed the word thanks again, overwhelmed by the swell of applause and the sound of clinking glasses. I took a sip of champagne and let the feeling sink in. Hailey, we fucking did it.

I turned around to head back into the kitchen only to be enfolded in a hug. My mom.

“Congratulations,” she whispered in my ear.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I knew you could do it.”

I almost laughed.

Michael

I stood in the bar of Viande with John Smith on one side and Alexander Mills on the other. The official opening night dinner party had finished up about forty minutes ago. Most of the guests had left, but a healthy contingent lingered over expensive after-dinner drinks, waiting for Sabrina and Katie to emerge from the kitchen.

“You think it’s fixed?” Mills asked Smith.

We had moved on to talking about the FBI’s Miami field office. Mills had important political friends in DC. Sandoval’s infiltration of the Miami office had been kept quiet but not secret. Mills was on a fishing expedition to see if John had any knowledge that might keep friends from getting re-elected.

“Fixed for now. The problem is that the criminals have more money and more guns. FBI agents are underpaid and thus subject to shifting loyalties.” John was forever a cynic.

“Not everyone’s loyalty is for sale,” I said and pointed meaningfully across the bar at Special Agent Lewis Wright. He’d come out of the investigation of the Miami office smelling like a rose. The cutting-edge surgery he underwent at the University of Florida Hospital had ensured he made a full recovery after getting shot at the Oceanfront Diner. He was fit for duty.

“Rumor is Wright will be named special agent in charge of the Miami office when the smoke clears. I made sure the right people knew his name. It will be good to have a friend heading the FBI’s efforts in town.” John said.

Mills smiled and nodded like he’d been in on the plan and approved of the outcome.

One more time, I was reminded that while I played checkers, John Smith played chess.

“I’d like to meet him.” Mills took his glass of scotch off the bar and started walking toward Wright. John followed.

I did not. Playing masters of the universe wasn’t my game. And I would never forgive Wright for putting Sabrina in danger. He’d known his boss was dirty but still told the man what Sabrina had witnessed. Wright was a fool. He’d make an excellent puppet for Smith and Mills.

“Michael, this is amazing. But my daughter is even better.” Minerva slid up next to me at the bar. Tonight, an orange and pink silk psychedelic print caftan swirled around her like a trippy cloud. She gestured with a glass of champagne around the space, nearly spilling wine on me, her, and the bar. Minerva was definitely tipsy. Good thing I’d arranged a driver for all of us.

Minerva was staying in the new guest bedroom at Sabrina’s house tonight. Keeping her promise to herself and her daughter, Sabrina had packed up all of Hailey’s things. The purge had been hard, and the added stress could have waited until after the restaurant opened, but Sabrina wouldn’t hear of it. I helped when asked—painting walls, hauling boxes, and building Ikea furniture.

The result had been a different labor of love than opening Viande. Sabrina had decorated the guest room/office using all Hailey’s favorite colors. She said a useable space was a more fitting tribute to her daughter than a museum. If only my mother would figure that out.

“You know what is missing?” Minerva leaned in to whisper a secret in my ear. Her hand pressed on my chest to steady herself and rose on tiptoe. “A shirtless bartender.”

I snort laughed. “Not really the aesthetic Sabrina is aiming for.”

“Are you two telling secrets?” Quinn looked ravishing tonight. She had on a midnight blue dress that left most of the men in the room drooling in her wake. It half made me want to find a napkin to drape over her cleavage like an overprotective big brother.

“We’re talking about how incredible my daughter is.”

“Agreed! That meal was insane. One of the best I’ve ever had. The risotto: amazing.” Quinn broke the word into three parts: ah-maz-ing.

“You’re a lucky man.” Minerva patted my chest.

“I am grateful every day she washed up on the Smith Agency seawall when she did.” The goofy smile I’d had on my face most of the night reappeared.

I was giddy over Sabrina’s triumph. Watching her succeed was humbling and meaningful. Dating her, telling people she was my girlfriend, made me feel fifty feet tall. I loved to brag about her. She was incredible, and I was the lucky son of a bitch that got to sleep with her.

Basically, I was living the dream.

The pianist in the corner played a flourish. The room quieted down, and we all turned. Sabrina and Katie strolled into the bar like they’d won a James Beard Award. (Hopefully that would come next year.)

I clapped so hard my hands hurt. Quinn managed a wolf whistle that about blew my eardrums. And Minerva downed the last of her champagne.

All of Viande’s staff followed behind Sabrina and Katie, from the lowliest dishwasher to the incredible sommelier, Parker, who she’d stolen away from one of the big South Beach hotels by offering a non-judgmental workplace. The hotel had reluctantly acknowledged Parker's nonbinary identity. Sabrina said they were the best sommelier she’d ever worked with and welcomed Parker to the team with open, accepting arms.

The crowd swelled around Sabrina and I hesitated a moment. Fuck it. With a shrug to Minerva and Quinn, I ditched all pretenses of being cool and politely elbowed my way to her side.

“You are everything.” I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she whispered into my ear.

She could have, she would have, done it without me. I know that; I’m not an idiot. But her words still made me squeeze her extra tight for a second. I loved this woman and would do everything to support her from now on.

“Chef, chef!” A cook whose name I forgot held out two shot glasses. One for Sabrina. One for me.

I took my glass. The antiseptic smell of tequila burned my nose. “You ready, Siren?”

“Ready for what?” She had to all but yell to be heard over the staff chanting drink-drink-drink.

“The future.” I tipped back my glass, the booze burning down my throat.

She grinned, flashing her teeth in an almost feral smile as she dramatically raised the shot glass before she brought it down to her lips and tossed it back.

“Hell, yes!” She shook her head and bounced on her toes.

Sabrina

“I don’t do mornings. Especially not today.” I groaned and rolled back into my pillows. What the hell was Michael thinking? The limo didn’t drop us home until like three in the morning.

“It’s worth it.” He nuzzled the place where my neck and shoulder met.

“Tropical Bagels?” I lifted my head a little and regretted last night’s tequila shots with every fiber of my being.

“No. Better.”

“Nothing is better than that.” I buried my face.

“The Miami Herald wrote up the opening.”

I bolted upright, flinging pillows, and grabbed the folded newspaper in his hand. “Give.”

The reporter and photographer had been invited a few days before the opening to come take photos. I’d hoped for a mention in the style section. It was the height of the winter tourist season; column inches were hard to get in the dead tree edition with so much happening in town.

A breathtaking wide-angle photo of the dining room with me seated alone at a table covered most of the page above the fold. The story that accompanied the image retold my adventures in opening a restaurant from Food Truck Fabulous to the vandalism to last night’s star-studded opening party. This wasn’t a tiny mention, it was a full exposé.

I tackled Michael into the mattress and peppered morning breath kisses all over his face. This kind of press was priceless. It got a chef TV spots and invites to food festivals.

“Shit. Now we just need to keep booking reservations until the insurance money comes in.”

“About that…” Michael wouldn’t look at me. My stomach rolled, and I thought I might puke.

“What?” I grabbed his big giant forearm and dug my fingertips into the muscles. “Tell me now.” Had he been keeping bad news from me?

“I know I’m only supposed to give unsolicited hugs and back rubs, but I might have stepped out of my box last night. I called in a favor to get the insurance company to pay faster.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but don’t understand.” I shook my aching head. It was too early for riddles.

“Have you ever looked at the people on the board of directors for your insurance company?”

“No.” The company was an anonymous beast I sent giant checks too. There weren’t faces or names attached to it.

“I did. Alexander Mills is on the board.” He sat down on the bedside.

“They were there last night, him and Gigi. I saw them.” I’d sent the invite as a long shot. When they accepted, I’d never thought they would honestly show up.

“Gigi declared Viande was her new favorite place in town. She told Alexander they would need a regular table. I overheard and mentioned to Alexander that for you to stay open, you need your insurance policy to pay up sooner than later.”

The color drained from my face. That was a massive ask. “You have that kind of pull with Alexander Mills?”

“I saved his life once.” Michael tossed out the comment with a shrug that said just doing my job .

“You need to explain.” Saving the life of an uber-connected billionaire wasn’t the type of thing you kept quiet about, was it?

“It was dumb luck. I was working for him on a business trip to El Salvador. A rival tried to sneak a gun into a meeting. I intercepted it.”

There was so much detail left out of that story. It was like a slice of Swiss cheese. Holes everywhere.

“And…”

“That’s it. But Mills said he owed me. And men like Mills and Smith, they take that shit seriously. I cashed in my debt last night. He’s going to pressure the insurance company to pay up. He said to expect the money to start flowing end of the week.”

I fell back in the pillows, clasping the Miami Herald story to my chest. A tightly coiled spring that had been ready to blow apart like an overwound watch deep in my gut relaxed. We wouldn’t run out of money before the insurance paid.

“Oh, and Gigi loves Parker, loves you, and is thinking about coloring her hair to match your look.” He twirled a lock of my red hair around his fingertips.

“Now you’re just making stuff up so I’ll get out of bed.” I rolled over and looked up at him.

“Am I in trouble for overstepping?” He looked so earnest.

“In this case, no. A thousand times no. What you did, asking Mills for help like that? I couldn’t do that, no matter how much I wanted to. He doesn’t owe me anything. That wasn’t you overstepping. That was a gift. I love you for that and all the rest of the help you’ve given getting Viande open. No woman has it better. You’re an amazing partner. I love you.”

“No man has it better than me. Siren, I think I’ve loved you since we met.”

He leaned over and brushed a delicate kiss on my lips.

“Have I told you how sexy I find your accomplishments?” He cupped my face. His fingers tangled in my auburn hair.

I pulled back the sheets and crooked a finger at him. “Get in here and show me. We have to be quiet. Can’t wake Minerva.”

“Oh, I already took care of that. She and Katie are waiting in line at Tropical Bagels. I figure we have at least an hour.” He did that super sexy thing where he ripped his shirt off over his head with one hand behind his back.

I melted.

If you’re ever given the option of really excellent sex with a man you love, followed by really excellent bagels, don’t miss out. It’s an epic way to start the day.

The End