Security Risk. Janie CrouchЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Three

      “Order up, Bree!”

      Bree Daniels smiled at Gayle Little sitting at the table in front of her. “So then what did Mr. Little do?”

      Mrs. Little frowned. “Dan just yelled for you. Don’t you need to go get the food?”

      Bree smiled gently at the older woman. Mrs. Little came in a few times a week since her husband of sixty years had passed away recently. Bree knew Dan would much rather Bree stay out here and talk to Mrs. Little—to listen to her tell a story Bree had already heard—than to rush back and get the food.

      “Don’t you worry about Dan. He’ll take the food out himself if I don’t get back there in time.”

      There would’ve been a point not long ago that Bree wouldn’t have realized that staying and talking to Mrs. Little was more important than getting the food from the kitchen. She wouldn’t have realized there wasn’t a single customer in the Sunrise Diner who wouldn’t gladly eat a lukewarm meal if it meant seeing Mrs. Little—a woman most of them had known all their lives—forget her sadness for a spell.

      It had only been over the last few weeks of living here in Risk Peak that Bree had begun to understand the nuances of interacting with people. It wasn’t something that came easily for her.

      She was probably the only genius-level hacker in the world working at a mom-and-pop diner in the middle of nowhere, without a computer in sight. Most people would say it was a waste of her talent, but Bree didn’t care. If she never saw another computer, that would be just fine with her.

      Computers, and her talent with them, had gotten her tortured as a child, gotten her mother killed and had nearly cost her her life a few months ago. So working as a waitress was just fine with her.

      “And then he surprised me by getting down on one knee right then and there and asking me to marry him. On our third date,” Mrs. Little said, a dreamy look in her eyes.

      Bree’s smile was genuine, feeling no urge to tell the older woman she’d heard the story before. It was so sweet and romantic.

      At least she no longer sat tensely through every conversation worried that however she responded would be wrong or inappropriate.

      While Bree didn’t miss working with computers, she had to admit she found them much more simple than people. Coding held no subtext—it was straightforward, inputs and outputs, and for Bree as basic and simple as breathing.

      Relationships and people, on the other hand? They were the opposite: full of unspoken rules and expectations and subtext.

      Simple things other people took for granted, like talking and joking and, heaven forbid, flirting, were causes of darn near panic attacks in Bree. Part of it was from growing up without any friends and a mother terrified they’d be taken back into captivity at any moment. The other part of it was just how Bree’s brain worked.

      Like a computer.

      Mrs. Little patted Bree’s hand as she finished her story, and Bree turned back toward the kitchen. Sure enough, someone had already taken the food out to the table where it belonged.

      For just a moment she tensed, second-guessing herself and whether she’d made the wrong decision by talking to Mrs. Little rather than concentrating on the job she was being paid to do. But both Dan and Cheryl smiled at her when she turned back toward the kitchen, so Bree decided not to worry about it.

      She had bigger things to worry about. Tanner was on his way to come get her. Said he had a surprise for her this evening.

      Bree did not do well with surprises.

      She knew he’d been in Denver today providing testimony in court. The fact that she couldn’t call him and ask him for more details about this evening had just ratcheted up her anxiety.

      What did it mean when a man said he had a surprise, but that it wasn’t a date and that she should definitely not get dressed up?

      What did that mean?

      “You okay, honey?” Cheryl came and stood beside her and rubbed her arm.

      Not too long ago that sort of casual touch would’ve been completely foreign to Bree. Living a lifetime without anyone touching her had made all touches feel odd.

      Judy, the other full-time waitress, came and flanked Bree on the other side, knocking Bree’s hip with her own.

      “You’ve been staring at that pitcher of tea for a full minute. You thinking about asking it out on a date? Tanner would probably be jealous.”

      The sound of his name just made her abdomen muscles tighten more.

      “I’m scared,” she finally whispered.

      Saying it, talking personally about herself, was still so difficult. But these women were her friends.

      Friends. Still such a foreign concept.

      Both women immediately pulled in closer. Cheryl wrapped her arm around Bree’s waist. “Scared of what, honey? Do you feel like someone is watching you again? Do you think it’s the Organization?”

      “They’re gone,” Judy assured her. “They may not be in prison yet, but none of them are free. Especially not Michael Jeter. He’s not going to get anywhere near you.”

      Bree shuddered at the name of the man who’d kept her and her mother captive and hurt them both to force Bree to use her computer talents to further his agenda. Her mother had never fully recovered from his torture. But they were right—Jeter was currently awaiting trial and couldn’t hurt her anymore.

      “No, not Jeter,” she whispered. “Tanner.”

      “You’re afraid of Tanner?” Judy asked.

      This was why Bree didn’t like talking. She always messed it up. She could feel herself withdrawing, falling back into old, bad patterns of retreat that were more familiar.

      But Cheryl got right up in Bree’s face. “Hey. Talk to us.”

      Bree looked in the older woman’s eyes. There was no judgment there, just acceptance and kindness.

      “Order up,” Dan yelled from the kitchen window a few feet away.

      “In a minute!” both Cheryl and Judy responded in sync. Dan sighed.

      “Why would you be scared of Tanner? Did something happen?” Judy asked.

      Spitting it out was probably the best option. “He’s coming to get me in an hour. Said he had a surprise and not to get dressed up.”

      “A surprise isn’t bad, Bree.” Cheryl rubbed her arm again. “Granted, that boy should know better than to think you’re going to like surprises, but it’s definitely not something to be afraid about.”

      “But he told me not to get dressed up! That means he doesn’t want me to go to any trouble with my hair and makeup if he’s just going to tell me it’s over.”

      The other two women met each other’s eyes.

      “Or...” Judy drew the word out. “He has something else planned and he doesn’t want you to worry about a dress or fancy shoes.”

      Bree’s forehead wrinkled as she considered that. “Like what?”

      “I’ve got another order up, gals,” Dan said from the window