During the drive to IHOP, Emily Grace and Kitt gave Michael a crash course in American Sign Language. They tried to cover the basics he would need, including the signs for breakfast foods. Michael still planned to do most of the talking and to use yes/no questions as much as possible.

Despite his assurances to Kitt, Michael was taking no chances with Emily Grace's safety. He parked on the side of the building where Kitt would be harder to spot as people drove by. And not coincidentally was parked by the side entrance. Michael asked for a table rather than a booth, which had them in the middle of the room, away from the windows. And he sat facing the entrance.

The waitress gave them some time to look over the menu before coming to take their order. Michael gave his, and then smiled at Emily Grace. "Okay, Pumpkin, what do you want?"

Emily Grace signed her order to him, which he relayed to the waitress.

"And to drink?" she asked.

"I'll have a Coke; she'll have milk."

"Regular or chocolate?"

Which hadn't been part of his crash course. Emily Grace grinned in recognition of his dilemma. Michael grinned back.

"Okay, Pumpkin, regular," and he held up his left hand, "or chocolate?" and he held up his right. She pointed to his right hand. "Good choice. She'll have chocolate milk."

Michael knew an adult male with a young girl might raise some eyebrows. So after they had placed their order, he went to the men's room. That gave the waitress a chance to reassure herself that nothing untoward was going on.

Between eating slowly and telling Emily Grace jokes, Michael dragged the meal out for quite a while. It beat driving around aimlessly or finding a quiet place to park. But eventually, it was time to pay and leave. He sent Emily Grace into the ladies' room because he had no idea when they would next be near a bathroom. He leaned against the wall between there and the front door.

"That your little girl?"

Michael looked at his questioner, a burly trucker in his mid-50s. "No, sir. Her mom had to stay late at work and asked me to watch her."

"Well, you're doing a fine job, son. I've four kids of my own. So I know what I'm talking about."

"Thanks."

Emily Grace came out of the ladies' room. Michael draped a protective arm across her shoulders and out they went.

Michael hated being wrong. And he really hated giving Kitt the opportunity to say, 'I did warn you, Michael.' Neither of which mattered when the thugs – Michael couldn't remember which was Mark and which was Tommy – spotted them in the parking lot.

"Told you I recognized his car. There's Knight, and he's got the girl. Grab her!"

Michael spun Emily Grace around and shoved her for the door. "Inside! Now!"

He ducked a punch and swung back, pushing the thug away from the door.

"Kitt –"

"I am aware, Michael. Shall I continue to watch the side door?"

"Yes!"

Michael was ex-Special Forces. He could hold his own in a fight, even two on one. However, the two thugs he knew had brought friends, making it four on one. Fortunately, Michael also had an unexpected friend: the burly truck driver came running out of the IHOP.

Michael yelled, "They tried to grab the girl!"

He and the trucker made short work of all four thugs. Michael ran into the IHOP, passing the grill cooks on their way out to help. One waitress was on the phone, he hoped calling the police. He scanned the restaurant without seeing Emily Grace. The other waitress pointed at some shelves in the serving station. Michael went over and dropped to his knees, arms out wide. Emily Grace clambered off the shelves and ran to him, and he hugged her tight.

"The police will be here soon," said the first waitress as she hung up the phone.

Michael just held the trembling girl. "It's okay, Pumpkin. It's okay."