dear, well-meaning fiance. But she just kept a pleasant smile frozen on her face, and took a quick inventory. Jared was right. There were only two other customers in the restaurant--in a booth across from them. They were finished with their dinner and donning their coats. Leah's hopes that Jared wouldn't pitch a fit in a restaurant full of people vanished as she watched the other couple head for the door. She and Jared were now the only customers in the place.
The busboy filled their water glasses. Leah waited until he left their table, then she cleared her throat. 'I need to talk with you about something, Jared,' she said, squirming a bit in the booth's cushioned seat. 'This has been really heavy on my mind lately...'
He looked up from his menu. 'What is it, sweetheart?'
The busboy returned with their tea in a medium-size stainless-steel pot. 'Tea very, very hot,' he said, filling their cups. He set the pot on a trivet on their table.
Leah's stomach was still in knots. She watched the busboy retreat toward the front of the restaurant. He hung the CLOSED sign on the door. It occurred to Leah that after tonight, she wouldn't want to come back here again. It would always be
'What is it?' Jared repeated.
Leah couldn't answer him.
The waitress approached their table. Delicate and pretty, she had a round face and a shy manner. Her black hair was swept back in a barrette, and she smiled a lot--like the busboy. In fact, they were brother and sister. Her English was better than his. After Jared subjected her to his requisite chitchat, she took their drink orders.
Once the waitress withdrew, Leah sighed and nervously drummed her fingers on the table top. 'Listen, Jared, if I've seemed distracted and on edge lately, well, there's a reason...'
Staring at her, he put down his menu.
'This just isn't working out,' she said finally.
'What isn't working out, babe? This booth? You want one on the other side of the room?'
She quickly shook her head and then looked down at her engagement ring. 'No, that's not it. I'm sorry, Jared, but it wouldn't be fair to you if I--'
Leah glanced up--just past the fish tank, toward the front of the restaurant. The busboy was shaking his head and half-bowing to two men who must have ignored the sign on the door. 'We closing now!' he repeated.
But the two men were already in the restaurant, and they didn't look as if they were ready to leave. One was tall and skinny, with long, greasy, wavy black hair and a goatee. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket, and had a tattoo on the side of his neck. He muttered something to the busboy. Leah was too far away to see what the tattooed image was, and she couldn't hear what he'd just said. But she had a terrible feeling about this. The meek little busboy was still shaking his head at him and his friend.
'What's wrong?' the man asked loudly. 'Answer me in English, asshole. What? Are you all out of food? Did the kennel stop delivering the dog meat?'
Jared half-turned in the booth and looked over his shoulder. 'What the hell?' he murmured.
The tall, creepy man's friend laughed--a high-pitched cackle. Shorter and stockier than his buddy, he had a marine buzz cut and muscular arms covered with tattoos. Despite the frigid weather, he wore only a T-shirt and jeans. He was all twitchy and seemed hopped up on something. Still laughing, he reached over and slapped the busboy on his shoulder.
'You go, please, we closing!' the busboy repeated. He pointed at the sign on the door.
A hand over her heart, Leah watched as the cook emerged from behind the counter. A thin, older man, he had a red apron over his short-sleeve shirt and baggy black slacks. He, too, was shaking his head at the intruders and pointing to the door. Between his hushed tone and the broken English, Leah wasn't sure what he was saying. The young waitress hovered behind him.
'Fuck you, old man,' the skinny goon said, laughing.
'Who do these scumbags think they are?' Jared muttered. He started to climb out of the booth, but Leah grabbed his hand to stop him.
'Please, Jared, no--don't,' she whispered urgently. The
Then the stocky man suddenly pulled a revolver from the waistband of his jeans. His T-shirt had been camouflaging it. All at once, he slammed the butt end of the revolver over the older man's forehead. The waitress let out a scream as the cook collapsed on the floor. 'No, no, no!' she cried, rushing to his aid.
But the stocky man grabbed her. His friend pushed the busboy against the counter and sent him crashing into two tall counter chairs. They tipped over and fell to the floor with a loud clatter while the busboy clung to the counter for balance. The chubby guy thought this was hysterically funny.
Paralyzed, Leah watched in horror. 'Oh my God,' she whispered. 'Call 9-1-1....'
Jared quickly dug into his pants pocket for his cell phone.
The two assailants still hadn't spotted them on the other side of the large fish tank.
The skinny one grabbed the busboy by his hair, and then hit him in the face. The waitress screamed out again as her brother tripped over the fallen counter chairs and tumbled to the floor. The thug kicked him in the ribs.
'Who else is back there?' he asked, nodding toward the kitchen area behind the counter. He glanced at the waitress. 'You got somebody washing dishes back there?'
Tears streaming down her face, the waitress shook her head and said something. Leah couldn't hear it. All the while, the hulky creep pawed at her and cackled.
'Do you have a safe in this dump? A safe?' the tall one asked her.
Once again, Leah couldn't hear her reply. But the man must have heard it. 'Fuck!' he hissed. 'Okay, so where do you keep the money?'
With the phone to his ear, Jared peered over the top of their booth. His earlier fortitude had disappeared. Leah could tell he didn't want to be a hero right now any more than she did. This was something for the police--if they ever picked up.
'Yes,' Jared whispered into the phone--finally. 'I'm reporting a--a--a robbery in progress at--um, at Thai Paradise on Hawthorne...No, I'm sorry. I can't speak up. I'm here in the restaurant. It's happening right in front of me...'
The busboy let out a frail cry as the tall, skinny creep savagely kicked him again. It broke Leah's heart--and enraged her--to see that sweet, quiet young man brutalized. His sister sobbed uncontrollably in the other thug's clutches. 'I'm getting some of this yellow tail before the night is over,' he announced, groping her.
'Take her into the can,' the one with the goatee said. 'Let's move them
'Oh, my God,' Leah murmured. She'd heard that term
Jared was still whispering into the phone, explaining he couldn't talk any louder. 'These guys have guns!' he said under his breath. He peered over the top of the booth. 'They're going to shoot everyone in the place, for God's sake. Please, send help...'
'Where's the restroom?' the skinny one asked the waitress.
She timidly pointed toward the dining area--past the fish tank. The man's gaze followed, and suddenly, he locked eyes with Leah.
She gasped and tried to duck. Jared shrank back in his seat as well. But they were too late. They'd been spotted.
'Shit, we got company,' the skinny creep muttered. 'Let's round them up.'
'My God, they've seen us,' Jared whispered into the phone. 'Tell the police to hurry. Did you hear me?'
Leah flinched at a loud, tinny clattering sound. Peeking around the edge of the booth, she saw the taller one kicking the fallen counter chairs aside. He grabbed the dazed, beaten busboy by the arm, and pulled him up from the floor. Blood streamed from the young man's nose. He could hardly walk. The tall guy seemed to hold him up as they moved toward the dining area. The stocky thug followed them, his tattooed arms still around the waitress.
