Served (Breaking Free Book 3) Read online

  Served

  Breaking Free Series #3

  Maya Hughes

  Copyright © 2017 by Maya Hughes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my wonderful husband, whose love and support has been made my writing possible. And a special thanks for all my friends for all of your feedback and support from beginning to end.

  Contents

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  1. Chapter

  2. Chapter - Three years later

  3. Chapter

  4. Chapter

  5. Chapter

  6. Chapter

  7. Chapter

  8. Chapter

  9. Chapter

  10. Chapter

  11. Chapter

  12. Chapter

  13. Chapter

  14. Chapter

  15. Chapter

  16. Chapter

  17. Chapter

  18. Chapter

  19. Chapter

  20. Chapter

  21. Chapter

  22. Chapter

  23. Chapter

  24. Chapter

  25. Chapter

  26. Chapter

  27. Chapter

  28. Chapter

  29. Chapter

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Maya Hughes

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  1

  Chapter

  Rox kept checking in on the dining room. Mark said he was having some friends over to the bar tonight, but he hadn’t said they were going to be seriously hot. She raced around the kitchen, manning most of the stations, since Mark hadn’t been able to find many people who’d work for the wages he’d been able to offer. She was happy for any amount of pay, so it seemed to be working out for both of them. Checking on the chocolate lava cakes in the oven, pulled them out, sniffing in that wonderful chocolatey smell and plated them.

  These weren’t all the recipes she loved, hell they weren’t even recipes she liked, but they were the same recipes that had been served at the bar since Mark’s dad owned it. But with the desserts, she could try her hand at things she liked. Mark’s parents had died when he was younger, so she was happy to cook things to made him feel closer to them. Plus, he’d given her this chance to run her own kitchen when she’d have been lucky to find a bar back position, so she wasn’t going to screw things up by making waves.

  The faded and sauce-splattered recipe cards he’d given her on her first day were committed to memory. She’d made changes where she could, but he hadn’t paid her to be a chef, he’d paid her to cook the recipes his family had made in this place. So what if some of them tasted like plastic? She’d grin and bear it to get paid and help Mark live his dream when it came to preserving this place.

  She’d bring up some menu changes to him soon, especially when he was talking about maybe revamping the whole place and going in a new direction. That news piqued her interest and she’d been working on recipes in her spare time to present to him. With business slow as always, Rox had no trouble working as cook and server, especially on a Tuesday night with no customers, except her boss and his friends.

  Plus, their latest server quit on them just yesterday. Apparently, abysmal tips were not enough to keep a server on the job, even in LA, where servers were a dime a dozen. She grabbed the dessert plates off the pass and walked them out to Mark, Liam, and Lucas, balanced on her arms. She wanted to get these out fast because the quicker they finished, the quicker she could get to sleep. Getting to curl up in her nice comfy bed and maybe go over a few recipes sounded great after an entire day of being on her feet.

  Normally, she would have had one of the other guys in the back take the plates out, but they were already cleaning up. Who was she to get in the way of their fun? Plus, she liked to see how people enjoyed her food. Being back in the kitchen, she didn’t get that chance often.

  “Mark, you’ve got to get a new cook in this place. These dishes are so dated, I feel like I’ve been transported back to the ‘80s. What is this?” he’d said, lifting the bread on his patty melt. Rox cringed, she hated making those things, but Mark loved them. Her grip on the plates slipped a bit as her step faltered and her palms got clammy.

  “Shut up, it’s good stuff!” Mark said, taking a big bite of his and talking with his mouth full. She shook her head and smiled. He was always the picture of gentlemanly manners. “This was one of my favorites my mom used to make.”

  “Tastes like burnt rubber,” Liam mumbled under his breath, but she still heard it. She always heard everything he said, no matter how much she wanted to ignore him. Her stomach dropped, the urge to run back into the kitchen nearly overwhelming. But she straightened her back and pressed on.

  “I think it’s pretty good,” said Lucas, Liam’s twin, taking another bite. While they both had the same strong chin, straight nose, and chocolate brown eyes, it was easy to tell them apart because Lucas was a tailored suit kind of guy, whereas Liam was more of a hoodie and leather jacket type. Being a leather jacket type herself, she would have been instantly attracted to him, if he hadn’t been shit-talking her food. It was such a shame that terrible taste in food was wasted on such a smoking hot guy. When she’d first laid eyes on him, she couldn’t keep the dopey grin off her face, but it had been permanently replaced with a scowl after his review of her food. He’d been in a few times before and the stomach flutters had always been in full force. And she kicked herself for the way her heart panged when she looked at him because she could never let herself like someone who didn’t appreciate what she did in the kitchen.

  “Whatever, it’s not that great,” Liam said, a few crumbs on the sides of his mouth, sticking to his perfectly formed lips. She shook her head. Screw Liam and screw his bad taste in food! Was it the best recipe ever? No, but she did her best to make it taste as good as possible.

  She slammed the plate down in front of Liam and he had the good grace to look at least a little embarrassed she may have overheard them. Yeah, she did, asshole. She gently placed the plates of chocolate molten lava cake with a lavender glaze in front of Mark and Lucas. Mark’s parents hadn’t been big on the desserts, so she loved surprising him with those. While she wasn’t a baker or pastry chef, she’d learned as much as she could, since this was the only place she could flex her creative culinary muscles.

  That night had cemented her relationship with Liam. Anytime he was around her he was friendly, maybe even flirty, but he always had a remark under his breath about her food. Game over!

  2

  Chapter - Three years later

  A quiet night cooking for friends was always how Rox preferred to spend an evening. Although her idea of a quiet evening and cooking for friends involved a staff of twenty and about a hundred friends, in the bar where she worked, she wasn’t going to split hairs. The comfort of this kitchen—any kitchen—made it the place she gravitated toward.

  “Hot behind,” called Caleb, as he passed by with a tray of piping hot short ribs. Steaming and sizzling pops of the sauce rang out throughout the kitchen. Everyone stayed out of his way as he moved them over to the plating station. The clamor and clank of pots, pans, and every other manner of commercial kitchen appliance filled the room with a clanging cacophony as steam and flames rose from
the teams manning the range. The twenty-person team worked together to get out all the food to the hungry friends, including their soon-to-be former boss, since Mark was abandoning them.

  Running things in the kitchen had its advantages. Rox got to mingle with everyone at the party, but steal away when making small talk tired her out, into her own organized chaos back in the kitchen. The fact that this party celebrated Mark and Jen, his girlfriend, moving to NYC had her popping out into the alley for a breather every so often. They would be leaving for NYC in only a couple of days. Mark would be starting a new bar in the city with the startup capital Liam invested in The Bramble LA and NYC.

  “3 out on short ribs,” Caleb called out, using his tongs to flip them over and sprinkle some sesame seeds on top. Wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her pocket, she joined the line to start plating some of the appetizer trays going out. The casual shindig called for tables of apps instead of a sit-down dinner or appetizers passed by servers. Grabbing one of the giant squeeze bottles filled with a sauce for garnish, she took a plastic spoon out of a cup up on the shelf and squeezed some out onto the spoon.

  Giving it a quick sniff, she smiled and popped the spoon into her mouth letting the creamy, slightly vinegary flavor roll over her tongue as she licked the spoon clean.

  “Who made this béarnaise?” she shouted, holding up her spoon. The kitchen came to a standstill, everyone froze in place, and someone reaching for the other bottle of béarnaise pulled their hand back like they might be bitten. Reluctantly, Caleb raised his hand, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his chef’s whites.

  “I did, Chef!” he called out, his hands wringing the towel tucked into his apron.

  “Damn good job, Caleb. Who taught you how to make this?” she said, smiling, letting her voice carry as everyone in the kitchen collectively exhaled.

  “You did, Chef,” he squeaked, glancing around.

  “I did, but you did excellent work on this. Good job.” She nodded her head at Caleb and he bounced on the balls of his feet.

  “Thank you, Chef!”

  “Okay, everyone back to work.” Caleb had struggled with that sauce for weeks until they finally sat down and worked through it together. He was green, hell she was green for someone running a kitchen, especially one as popular as The Bramble, but he’d done a great job and she was always sure to let everyone in the kitchen know when they did or when they screwed things up, like the giant flaming pan on the range right now.

  “Michelle, check your pan,” Rox shouted. Michelle, who congratulated Caleb with a goofy grin, whipped around and promptly turned the fire down and covered her pan, earning her a glare from Rox and a sheepish look from Caleb as he went back to his station.

  Putting the finishing touches on a couple of trays of the mini steak bites, Rox handed them to the servers to put out for the party goers. The party gave her a chance to try out a few new recipes. She always preferred not to try them out on the paying customers the first few times. She knew how much Jen loved all her mini dishes, so she’d prepared a spread that would ensure she would miss her food and hopefully come back to visit often.

  Not needing to stay up until 1am added another bonus to the private party. She loved cooking, loved prep—hell she even loved cleaning up, but staying up late…she hated that part of the job with a scalding, 'slicing your finger on your new knives' passion. Being a night owl pretty much came with the territory as a chef. Thankfully, as the boss, at least the boss of the kitchen, she scheduled some afternoon shifts for herself when she could. Her staff were top notch and she trusted them to follow her work to a tee when she wasn’t around, but not being in the kitchen during service didn’t happen too often.

  She preferred the kitchen to her apartment, the two places she could be found ninety percent of the time. She hadn’t done anything to personalize her apartment even though she’d lived there for almost two years. Force of habit, maybe. It was second nature at this point to be ready to pick up and go at a moment’s notice. Growing too attached to any personal items wasn’t something she’d become accustomed to. Getting kicked out of the house at seventeen with little more than the clothes on her back meant she didn’t acquire a taste for sentimental objects. And the thought of putting up pictures or buying knickknacks hadn’t ever appealed to her.

  Maybe she should do something crazy and buy a throw pillow or two. Maybe get a plant… Her team moved along like a well-oiled machine and even her stations were taken care of. There was, however, a huge stack of empty boxes left by the back door that everyone seemed to be ignoring. While taking out the trash wasn’t usually on her list of duties, on a relaxed night like this, she didn’t mind.

  Picking up the boxes, she butt-bumped the door and shouldered her way outside to put them in the dumpster. Walking past her motorcycle and the cars parked in the alley, she lugged the boxes along and tried not to think about Mark leaving. It wasn’t going to be the same without him. She’d have to make sure he’d informed Liam about her payment requirements.

  Paid in cash or a cashier’s check were the only ways for her to avoid her ex. She’d learned her lesson about opening a bank account after move number three. She wasn’t sure what connections he had, but after he got out of jail, he always seemed to find her. It must have been his parents' connections. She had no idea why they would help, but they weren’t exactly the best judges of character when it came to their son.

  The giant spotlights Mark had installed turned on as she walked past and lit up the alley. He’d had them put in after the vandalism and gas leak over the past month or so. She caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She jumped and stared at the entrance to the alley, as a cat jumped down from the smaller garbage cans set up over there and scampered out onto the main road.

  Mark had done so much for her when she first moved to town, putting her up in his apartment when they first met, much to the chagrin of his then fiancée. How many people would do that for a stranger? His friend, Keira, was volunteering at the shelter where she was hiding out and she’d gotten Rox in contact with Mark. He’d made sure she was safe from her ex until they sorted out something permanent for her.

  He didn’t have much money for a real chef and she didn’t have many people who were willing to take a chance on an almost culinary school grad with no work experience. It had been trial by fire, sometimes literally in those first couple of years with the ancient equipment back in the kitchen. The place was super old and the recipes even older, but she’d made it work with a bare bones crew in the kitchen and wearing about ten hats daily. It had given her time to experiment with food in a way she hadn’t been able to before. It made her the chef she was today, running the kitchen of one of the hottest new bars in LA. She’d be forever grateful for all he’d done to help her.

  As much as she loved Mark, she cursed him for his choice in an investor, namely Liam. He knew how much they hated each other, how much Rox hated Liam, but the opportunity Liam had offered was something he couldn’t pass up. He invested in The Bramble LA, getting Mark out from under the evil thumb of his conniving ex and gave him all the startup capital he needed to open a new location in NYC. Since they were college buddies, it was practically no strings attached. Not a chance that came along very often, if ever.

  Rox shook her head. How in the hell was she going to put up with working for Liam? Would he get rid of her since he hated her food so much? She lifted the giant plastic lid on top of the dumpster and started chucking the boxes in. The cardboard boxes were no match for her as she let her anger and frustration fuel her cardboard slaughter. She ripped apart the last box and chucked it over the side of the dumpster. Maybe because she was being so noisy or because she was distracted about how things would change at The Bramble, she didn’t notice anyone near her until someone grabbed a handful of her hair, smashing her head into the dumpster. Her vision blurred like she was inside a giant bell. Everything around her vibrated and she cried out at the pain in her scalp, her attacker’s fingers tigh
tening, which made her cry out again. She grabbed at the hand holding onto her head and tried to whip around to get away from her attacker. Crystal clear blue eyes, burning with rage glared down at her. He’d found her! Fear slammed into her even harder, her heart hammering hard as numbness traveled through her body, paralyzing her completely.

  Shock froze her in place and her vision swam. She couldn’t even move her arms to protect herself. That sickening free-falling feeling hit her stomach. Tears formed in her eyes, like they did whenever she’d unleashed his wrath. Tremors wracked her body.

  How the hell had he gotten out of prison and no one had told her? Her vision clouded by the blood dripping from her forehead, she could only stare at him in horror as he pulled his hand back and delivered a stinging backhand to her cheek.

  Pain exploded through her head and e her eye pulsed from the blow. Finally, able to move at least a little she brought her arms up to try to protect her head and neck. Old habits returned to her as the shock wore off.

  “Juliette!” She flinched as he spat her real name at her. “Did you really think I would let you get away?” he sneered, alcohol on his breath as he shook her. Rox whimpered, hating how quickly she reverted to who she was before. Who she’d been with him. It only made him feel stronger, but she couldn’t shake it.