Sealed with a Christmas Promise

CHAPTER ONE

Callie’s smile froze when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face as a man entered the diner accompanied by a large, imposing dog. What in the world was Bryce Flynn doing here? Their gazes locked, his intense green gaze seeming to look right through her. It wasn’t easy to shake off the impact of Bryce’s presence as she continued performing her duties, taking the coffeepot around to refill her customers’ mugs.

Her mind whirled as she made small talk. She couldn’t imagine why Bryce and his K9, a beautiful German shepherd named Kirby, had shown up here at Darla’s Diner. They didn’t see cops dropping in for breakfast on a regular basis, this area wasn’t part of the usual cop beat. Then again, Bryce wasn’t dressed in his cop uniform. Did that mean he was off duty?

She hated to admit how handsome he looked in his quilted vest and long-sleeved, checkered flannel shirt accompanied by a pair of worn jeans. She much preferred his casual look to the uniform he normally wore. December in Los Angeles could be cold, especially this early. Seven thirty in the morning to be exact. She frowned. It seemed awfully early for him to be up and about on his day off.

Yeah, the more she thought about it, the more she knew there was no way Bryce’s being there was an accident. No, somehow he’d tracked her down.

The better question was why he’d bothered? She self-consciously tugged at her ill-fitting, puke-green polyester uniform, wishing she was wearing something nicer. Ridiculous thought because she had nothing to prove to Bryce Flynn. She didn’t much like him. It had been roughly two months since she last saw him. After he’d rescued her from the Desert Death Rays motorcycle gang, stashing her and her friend Ava in a safe house for protection. Oh, he’d been nice enough, until she’d realized he was a cop. That made him off-limits.

Logically, she knew there were good cops and bad ones.

She seemed to only find the bad ones.

She’d felt guilty about leaving the safe house so soon after he’d rescued her, but she had known it was for the best. However, she’d been completely stunned to see the news brief the following morning about a shootout involving the Death Rays. Her gaze had been glued to the television mounted high in a corner of the subway station as she’d recognized the house that had been riddled with bullets as the same place she’d sneaked away from mere hours earlier.

At the time, she’d worried about Ava’s safety. They’d lost their cheap, disposable phones, so she couldn’t check up on her friend and former coworker. For several days, she’d lived in fear her friend was dead and her baby, too, until she’d caught a brief clip of Ava and Nico leaving the hospital together. The press had jumped on the story of the pregnant woman who’d escaped the Death Rays with the help of several former Navy SEALs and had given birth to a baby girl.

Jayne. Callie’s heart had twisted with regret when she’d heard the news. She’d wanted to be there with Ava when she gave birth. She and Ava had joked about whether she was having a girl or a boy. Callie kept calling her stomach Jaydon, while Ava had insisted the baby was Jayne. Apparently, Ava had been right.

She missed her friend more than she could have imagined. Once, she and Ava had planned to relocate to Mexico after her baby was born.

But Ava had found Nico Ramirez, or rather, Nico had found Ava. Instantly, she’d known the two would end up together. And she was happy for her friend. Truly happy. Ava deserved to be loved by a man like Nico.

A happily ever after she’d never know.

Hi, Callie.

She jerked, sloshing coffee from the pot when Bryce called her name. He’d taken a seat in an empty booth along the row of windows facing the street. She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile. A customer was a customer, and a tip was a tip. She needed every dollar she could earn during her shift.

Hello, Bryce. Coffee?

Yes, please.

She filled his cup, avoiding his gaze. Welcome to Darla’s Diner. I’ll be back once you’ve had a chance to review the menu. Their plastic menus were on each table in the form of a place mat. Yeah, this place was hardly high-class, but the food was decent. She’d needed money, and Darla, the owner, hadn’t asked many questions. Callie had been grateful for the opportunity, especially since she was working two jobs. Her day job was here at the diner, but she also worked in another restaurant, too, on Friday and Saturday nights. A restaurant called The Flame.

There, the owner made her wear a low-cut, skintight uniform, which she hadn’t liked. But the tips were great, so she’d gritted her teeth and put up with the groping customers.

Yet she was still behind on her rent. No surprise since she hadn’t found anyone to help share a place with. At least, no one she trusted. One of her fellow servers at The Flame had offered to move in with her, but the way Stacy had fawned over her customers, even going out with them after work, made Callie suspicious that she was doing more than serving them drinks.

Nope. Callie wasn’t on board with that kind of thing.

Any chance you have time for a break? Bryce cradled his mug in his hands. I’d like to talk.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted in warning. We don’t have anything to discuss. And no, I don’t get breaks. That wasn’t entirely true. Once the morning rush had passed, she was able to grab a few minutes, but talking to a cop wasn’t something she wanted to do while on break.

Or off break.

Or ever.

She quickly turned away, grateful one of the orders had come up. After delivering the two breakfast platters laden with food to her customers, she reluctantly returned to Bryce’s table.

Pulling out her notebook, she stood with her pen poised over the pad. Are you ready to order?

Veggie omelet, please.

She lifted her brow but wrote down the order. Most people who came to Darla’s Diner preferred food laden with grease. Fried eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, etc. Was Bryce some sort of health nut? Maybe. His muscular physique was an example of how much he worked out. His strength was intimidating, but she did her best to ignore that. She might not trust Bryce, but he didn’t come across as an abusive man either. Beneath the table, Kirby shifted into a more comfortable position. Got it.

Callie, wait. He caught her arm as she moved away. What time do you get off? I really need to talk to you. It’s about Otto.

The name of the Death Rays biker she’d briefly spent some time with caused ice to congeal in her veins. What about him?

There was a brief pause before Bryce responded. He’s dead.

She blinked in surprise, then shrugged, feeling her muscles relax in relief. Otto being gone was one less problem for her to worry about. Don’t expect me to cry any tears over that news.

Have you seen him lately?

A flash of anger hit hard. The idiot motorcycle gang member gets himself killed and she’s a suspect? And wasn’t that the story of her life. No. She yanked out of his grasp and was about to walk away when she slipped on a spot of coffee she’d dropped on the floor. She lost her balance and fell forward just as there was a loud crack followed by the glass window of the café shattering into zillions of pieces.

Callie! Bryce lunged from the booth seat to cover her with his body. She hit the linoleum floor hard beneath his weight. She heard Kirby barking, and it took her a minute to understand what had just happened.

Someone had tried to kill her.

No, not her. Maybe Bryce. He was a cop and had no doubt made many enemies along the way. And hadn’t Bryce just told her Otto was dead? If anyone had asked, she’d have named him as the most likely guy to come after her with a gun.

I’m a cop. Everyone stay down and remain calm, Bryce ordered in a commanding tone. She felt his weight shift as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. This is off-duty K9 officer Bryce Flynn and Kirby. Shots fired at Darla’s Diner in west Los Angeles. Requesting backup and a bus.

Callie tried to move out from beneath Bryce’s heavy weight, but it was impossible. The guy was built like an offensive lineman for the Rams. Kirby crawled forward on his belly from beneath the table to be near them. She couldn’t deny having a soft spot for dogs. In her opinion, Kirby was Bryce’s only redeeming quality. Let me up.

Not until the police are on scene. His tone was calm, then he raised his voice to ask, Anyone hurt? Please remain calm, an ambulance will be here shortly.

A chorus of negative replies echoed around the café, although from her spot beneath Bryce, she couldn’t see anyone. If someone is unconscious or dead, they can’t respond, she whispered.

I know, Bryce agreed, his voice low and husky near her ear. It reminded her of the night he’d rescued her from the Death Rays’ warehouse where she’d been chained to the bed after being kidnapped from a restaurant in San