The door opened again, and Mel Richardson and Connor Talbot came in. Both men looked tense. They, too, scanned the interior, nodded to Peter and Joe, and then sat at a table in the center of the room.
My section.
I’ll go up to the front, deliver Jackson’s message, grab a couple of menus, and swing on back, drop them off, and then unload the pot. Jenny mentally nodded to herself. One thing serving had taught her was the wisdom of step economy.
The door opened again. Grandma Kate and Jake Kendall came in! They stopped for a moment at Angela’s table. Ricoh got to his feet and gave Grandma Kate a hug and shook Jake’s hand. Jenny detoured around the bar, passing the kitchen door, so as to avoid the sudden traffic jam in the main aisle. My goodness, this place is getting really busy. Usually at this time of the day, the roadhouse quieted right down. I’ll keep an eye out that Nancy doesn’t get overwhelmed. She hadn’t seen the woman at work yet, though Bailey had mentioned she could handle herself.
Then Jake escorted Kate toward the back of the restaurant. Even he must know about Benedict Central because it looked like that was where he and Grandma Kate were headed.
Jenny grinned, grabbed up four menus—she might as well drop two on the table of the two men in Nancy’s section, giving her a head start when she gave the other two to the P.I.s—and directed her steps toward Jeremy and Marcus.
The door opened behind her, and before she could take another step, an arm snaked around her waist and jerked her back, hard.
Something cold and forbidding pressed against the side of her head. Chairs scraped and toppled as men and women shouted and screamed and surged to their feet.
Then a voice, angry, frustrated, and raspy sounding assaulted her ears as the man who’d grabbed her delivered his ultimatum.
“Give me Marissa Jayne Featherstone right now, or this bitch dies!”
Chapter Eighteen
In slow motion, Jenny saw people move. Several of them had guns aimed at her—no, not at her, at the man who’d grabbed her. Her gaze snapped to her men. She’d heard their voices, their shouts of anguish, and saw the way Cord and Jackson held them back. She’d dropped the menus she’d been clutching in her left arm, but the fingers of her right hand still curled around the handle to the half-full coffee pot.
Behind her, the man who clutched her breathed heavily. He smelled sour, like dirty sweat. He’d sounded desperate—as if he was at the end of his rope.
Jenny never before realized just how attuned she was to the nuances people gave out. She hadn’t even seen this man’s face, and yet she knew his mood.
Pay attention here. There’s nothing nuanced about this situation at all. This bastard is holding a gun to your head!
Nancy approached from her left, her gaze hard, focused, a deadly-looking gun held between her two dainty-looking hands. Nancy looks just like a cop or something.
The door to the restaurant opened once more, but quietly, and Jenny didn’t really think the jerk who’d grabbed her even noticed it had.
Then she blinked. Slowmo shattered, like the popping of a balloon, and reality flooded in. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. She felt the man who had hold of her become even more tense, felt that he was shaking, and knew, in a heartbeat, she was done for.
Jenny didn’t think. She just moved.
Her right elbow spasmed, causing her arm to jerk up. Coffee sloshed out of the pot and onto the face of the man who’d grabbed her. She ducked away from his gun as he screamed, and some of that hot coffee hit her shoulder.
Marcus lunged, grabbed her, yanked her to the floor, and covered her body with his own.
Other sounds registered—a second scream from her assailant, several curses—and the thud of a something heavy hitting the floor hard really close to her.
Marcus sure is solid. Jenny was having a little trouble breathing, but at least she could breathe, and she hadn’t heard a gunshot, so she wasn’t going to complain.
“Clear!” The one word, strong and sure, sounded like Kat Lawson Jessop.
Marcus moved off her. Still sprawled on the wooden floor, Jenny could feel the vibration of so many feet, running.
Then she was scooped up and held in familiar arms. No thought was necessary now. She wrapped her arms around Parker and held on for dear life.
“Baby.” Parker’s one word, relieved, filled her heart. She wasn’t sure which one of them was shaking the most.
He sat down at one of the empty tables, held her close, and when Dale enfolded her back, she sighed. Parker adjusted her position on his lap, and she sat up and turned to look over to where the man who’d grabbed her lay, apparently unconscious.
Standing over him were Nancy Drew, Kat Jessop—and Adam Kendall, who looked pissed as he divided his attention between the two women and the man on the floor.
“Now that, girlfriend, is what I call real girl power.” Kat grinned. “Jenny nails him with hot coffee, you kick his gun out of his hand, and I cosh him with the butt of my trusty Glock.”
Jenny blinked. “Nancy, do you and Kat know each other?”
“We do. And my name’s not Nancy Drew. It’s April. April Bixby, and I’m a private investigator. As soon as we deal with this mess, we’ll talk.”
Before Jenny could process that, another feminine voice spoke up. “Are you all right, sweet girl?”
Grandma Kate’s voice drew her attention. The woman stood on the other side of Parker.
“I’m okay, Grandma Kate. But I don’t know what just happened.”
Despite Jenny’s assurance, Kate reached out and gently touched her shoulder. Dale put his hand on the collar of her tee shirt and slowly eased it away from the back of her
