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Fletcher trailed his calloused thumb across her lips and leaned in toward her. “Been dreaming of these lips, sugar. You and me. Can’t wait to feel those lips around my cock.”
Sexual harassment. This man was freaking clueless. Of course, she wasn’t an actual documented employee because Fletcher was paying her under the table. So maybe he thought she was desperate for a job, hence, the lead in question. And damn if Viktor wasn’t right again.
Marissa smiled. “I gotta hand in my order to the kitchen.”
She winced when Garett Fletcher swatted her ass.
When she returnedwith Nathan’s order, the Guardian was scowling at her.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t Viktor who came in, or you’d be scraping that guy off the floor. Whatever was left of him, that is.”
“Shut up.” Marissa pushed him a bar napkin with the new information about Henry Logan.
Nathan quirked a brow and took a bite out of his burger.
Nathan left forty minutes later.They didn’t get to exchange more information, except to confirm that the Guardians would be moving in on Fletcher's residence tonight. Marissa was on edge, probably from a combination of adrenalin and a lack of sleep. She really wanted to be in on that raid.
Fletcher was behind the bar, and was polishing some glasses, ignoring customers and just following her with his eyes. Poor Jerry had to pick up the slack, and Sheila couldn’tbe found anywhere. The other two waitresses were, thankfully, pretty competent, even without the manager around.
“Hey, Olivia, come here a minute,” Fletcher called to Marissa.
“What’s up, boss?”
“I need some of the margarita mixes from the back, can you go get them?”
“We have some—” Jerry protested, but Fletcher shut him up with a glare.
Marissa wasn’t stupid, she knew what this jerk was up to, even as she tried to suppress the bile in her gut.
“Sure thing, boss,” she said as he tossed her the key to the stockroom, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.
She wasn’t looking forward to knocking down a guy the size of Fletcher, and was hoping to escape this watering hole unscathed. She grabbed a steak knife from the utensil caddy on her way out and tucked it in the back of her jeans. She pulled out her t-shirt to cover the knife, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.
The door to the storage unit was unlocked, although she remembered locking it earlier. She had her answer when she flicked the lights open.
Morris Tyrell was waiting for her
14
This was bad.
Marissa stared warily at a stoned Tyrell. His eyes, glazed but still lustful, gave her body a leery head to toe appraisal. He sniffed, rubbed his nose, and reached for her. She evaded him.
The door behind her clicked shut, and Marissa’s heart rate skittered a fraction. She was trapped.
“Damn it, Tyrell, I told you to lay off the coke,” Fletcher hissed at his friend.
“Ah, but fucking is more heavenly when you’re all high, brother,” the other man said, laughing.
“We don’t want to hurt you none, Olivia. Just want to have some fun. Candy ran out on us,” Fletcher whined.
Marissa stepped to the side and turned so she could keep both men within her sights.
“I don’t think we have the same idea of fun.” Marissa’s tone was frosty. “If you both let me go, I won’t say anything.”
“You came here willingly,” Fletcher pointed out.
“You sent me to pick up the margarita mix.”
