“Yes.”
“Really?”
He glanced over from the road in time to see Sven give a little self-depreciating roll of his eyes. “I love waffles.”
“Have you been to one of the Taste of Belgium restaurants around the city?”
“No.”
Geoffrey laughed and immediately launched into a detailed listing of everything he could remember from their menu. He’d eaten at Taste of Belgium several times. He loved their waffles, pastries, and beer. But even more, he liked not arguing with Sven at last. They easily chatted about waffles and weird waffle combinations they’d tried as he parked in the garage under The Banks near the Ohio River downtown and walked up to the restaurant.
As they got close, Geoffrey felt his own steps slowing. He could already see the group seated outside, and he didn’t really want to go any longer. Well, he did still want waffles, but a small table for just him and Sven sounded so much more appealing than the large group. But it was already too late, and Sven definitely had no interest in a more private lunch with his client.
“Geoffrey!” Abby threw her hand up in the air and waved wildly at him. Her loud voice soared above the chatter, easily reaching them. He definitely remembered her being there that night. But Abby was harmless.
Yet, as the thought hit him, he immediately scanned the table. He remembered most of the people seated outside, laughing and talking, also being at the bar and the nightclub the evening he was drugged. They were all harmless, right? They were his friends. They wouldn’t want to hurt him.
A large hand gently squeezed his shoulder. It was only when he looked up at Sven that he realized he’d stopped walking. “Did you remember something?”
“No,” he squeaked out. He cleared his throat, but he still couldn’t talk. The world around him began to swirl as panic bore down on him. Maybe it was too soon to go out. Maybe he should have stayed in, gotten some work done, let Rowe and his people have a chance to dig deeper.
Sven’s hand tightened on his shoulder, drawing Geoffrey’s gaze back up to his face. “I’m here. No one will hurt you. I promise.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Geoffrey forced a smile while inwardly clinging to that promise. Everything was going to be fine. These were his friends. He resumed walking, slipping into the outdoor seating area, where his group was now taking up a large swath of tables pulled together in a line.
Abby jumped to her feet and pulled him into a tight hug. He tamped down the immediate question of whether it had been her and hugged her back quickly before pulling away. He had just started to scan the table, taking in its occupants when a voice he would have rather not heard spoke up.
“Who’s your friend?” Brendon asked.
He looked up to find his ex rising from where he’d been partially hidden at the other end of the table behind Aaron. Why the hell was his freaking ex there?
“This is Sven Larsen. He’s helping me with a project,” Geoffrey quickly explained. “I thought we’d just grab a bite to eat before getting back to work.” He gripped a seat and started to pull it out when Sven placed a hand on his elbow, stopping him.
“Why don’t you get together with your friends? I’ll take a picture. For social media,” Sven said.
Geoffrey nearly glared at the man. Sven didn’t want a picture for social media. He planned to send that picture over to Quinn at Ward Security so he could start running background checks and surveillance on his friends. He wanted to be pissed. So fucking pissed…but he couldn’t be. Sven was right.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” he bit out while forcing a smile on his face. Releasing the chair, he slid behind the back side of the table while several other people moved. He swallowed a groan when Brendon walked to stand right next to him, his arm draped over his shoulders. They’d dated for less than six months and the last two months had been pure hell.
When he’d first spotted Brendon in Gaile, he’d thought he was sexy and beautiful. At just under six foot, Brendon had nice height and wonderfully broad shoulders. He even had this Clark Kent kind of thing going with his black hair and dark-rimmed glasses. But then everything out of his mouth was some sharp-barbed criticism of what Geoffrey was doing wrong, all supposedly in the name of helping him.
Brendon lowered his face to Geoffrey’s ear. “Found a new plaything?” he asked, his breath brushing against the outer shell and sending a chill down his back.
“He’s just a friend,” Geoffrey bit out, keeping his focus on Sven as he tried to get Todd and Will to scoot in closer. Veronica’s hair kept blowing up into Christian’s face.