Missing Taro and Rafe?

Taro and Rafe are two of my favorite characters, and a lot of my readers feel the same. So I’m happy to be working on another book featuring my troublemaking boys.

Have a snippet of what was going to be Damsel in Distress, but will probably not actually have that title. Warning for language, because Taro.

When I walked into the trattoria, some lady in a sparkly dress gasped and covered her mouth. Too late, I realized I should have come through the back door. Every table was full of dressed-up people, and I looked like hell.

“For god’s sake, Taro!” Jadzia appeared from the dim “atmosphere” of the dining room, shoving a bus tub of dirty dishes at me. “Get in the back! No one wants to see you bleeding.”

I headed for the kitchen because Rafe wasn’t in the dining room, and I took the tub because I was going that way.

“Holy hell, Taro, did you get hit by a bus?” a server asked as I came through the swinging door. I ducked out of his way—he had two trays of food headed out—and looked for Rafe.

He wasn’t in the kitchen either. I set the tub in the slop sink.

“Damn, Taro! Did you mouth off to a corus-cat?” a worker asked, unloading the tub. “Go on into the office; I’ll get the first aid kit in a minute.”

I went, only because Rafe must be there. But he wasn’t, so I checked the store rooms.

Fucking hell. The rooms were full; the delivery had come in and I’d forgotten to come help. Busy as everyone was, Rafe probably put it all away himself, but he wasn’t there now.

He wasn’t in the bar. I checked the private party room, and there he was, sitting at the long table wrapping silverware with another server. The pretty new one. She laughed at something he said and put her hand on his arm. I stuck out a foot and knocked over a chair. Who says I can’t do subtle?

“Taro, my love!” Rafe grinned at me as the girl jumped away from him. “Look at you! Have the zombie hordes come? Was there an insurrection between here and CTD? Irene, be a dear and get the—”

“He got in a fight,” Jadzia said, brushing past me. She carried a tray with the first aid kit and a bowl of steaming water. “Again.”

“I’d guess five fights,” Rafe said, calling on years of experience to get it right.

“And they call you two adults,” Jadzia growled.