“Not trying to run, are you, darling?”
“No.” She shivered as his foul voice slipped over her bare skin.
“That’s wise because if you were to run, I would find everyone you love, everyone you care about, and I would kill them one by one until you returned.”
“Please,” Amorette didn’t know what she was begging for, only that this fear would eat her alive.
“What’s your name?” She ignored his question. “I asked your name.”
“Amorette Ellis.”
Cavitto nodded, and one of his men left the room, phone in hand. “My colleague is looking you up as we speak. Within a few minutes, he’ll learn where your parents live. Who yourcoworkers and friends are. What salon styles your hair. Where you grocery shop. You get the drift. You have twenty-four hours, Miss Ellis. If you don’t return with the money, I start killing your family.”
“Please don’t hurt them.”
“I won’t if you get me my money.” He stared at her as if he knew she was lying, but she nodded, head aching from the fear and the blow to her face. “Derrick will go with you.” Cavitto gestured to the guard who had struck her. “Don’t want you calling the police or fleeing with the money. I’ll kill your family if you do either, but you can never predict how someone will behave under pressure.” He looked pointedly at Doug, and Amorette’s heart sank. She didn’t know where she would find that amount, and with a chaperone? All she had managed to do was extend her life by twenty-four hours.
“I won’t run,” she said as she stood, pulling her clothes from where they sat folded on the dresser.
“Excellent. See you soon, Miss Ellis.” Cavitto smiled, all teeth and no kindness.
Amorette gathered her belongings, but when she reached for her phone, Cavitto shook his head. All hope fled her body with that single gesture, and she looked down at Doug. She couldn’t bear the sight of him, knowing that he’d been willing to let this monster kill her for his transgressions.
“We’re through,” she whispered, her voice unstable with anxiety. “After this, I never want to see you again.”
Amorette’s hands shook the entire drive to her café. Her mind raced through every possibility, through every outcome, but each conclusion was the same. There was no reality where thisended with her alive. Her savings were a quarter of the money needed, and her family wasn’t wealthy. They couldn’t help her. No one could, and the sickening bile of dread coated her throat. She wanted to call her parents, to hear their voices one last time before she died, because she had told the truth. She wouldn’t run. Not when they would pay the price.
The trip was too short. She had twenty-four hours, but it didn’t matter. The moment she opened her safe, Derrick would know she was lying. Amorette had never given her death much thought, but this wasn’t how she pictured leaving this world. She hadn’t experienced all of life’s offerings. She hadn’t traveled or fallen in love, and now she never would. Her eyes drifted to the empty carafes, and her memory conjured the tall blond ordering his black coffee. She didn’t know why she thought of him as she mourned never finding her soulmate. Maybe it was his tips that seemed too generous but were too little to help in the end. Or maybe it was because something about him stirred something deep inside her. Something dangerous she would never experience. For months, he’d come to her shop every week like clockwork, only to stop three weeks ago. She didn’t understand how she could miss someone so fiercely, despite not knowing his name, but her heart ached in his absence. She would never see him again, and that realization felt like an arrow to the chest.
“Hurry up,” Derrick ordered, and Amorette tore her eyes off the register. She moved to the safe, and with shaking fingers, she punched in the code. This was it. The end, and… Why was that carafe sitting there? She didn’t remember leaving it by the safe, but there it sat, heavy, metal, and within reach.
Amorette lunged forward, capturing it before Derrick realized she was moving. With one swift swing, she threw it at his face. The crunch of his bones failing against its metal echoedoff the walls, and she raced past him as he grabbed his gushing nose.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, scrambling after her. His fist captured her ankle, and she fell, her cheek slapping the wall. Pain radiated from the instant bruise, but it cut through the panic, giving her something to focus on. She had worked too hard for this café to die in it.
Amorette rolled to her feet with grace, grabbing a metal folding chair she had randomly propped against the wall. With all the strength left within her, she swung it at Derrick’s head. For a split second, their gazes met in shock, and then the chair collided with his temple. His head flew back at an awkward angle, and she watched with horror as he crashed to the floor, his skull smacking the sharp corner of the safe. The room fell silent save for her labored breaths, but she was afraid to move. Had she really just killed someone in her café?
Bile ran up her throat so fast she barely made it to the sink. She retched until her stomach hurt and her face throbbed, and when only dry heaves wracked her body, she cleaned out her mouth and leaned weakly against the wall. To her immense relief, she noticed Derrick’s chest move, and she burst into tears as she stumbled into the front of the shop. She hadn’t killed him. She wasn’t a murderer. Not yet at least, and if the police got here in time, she would stay that way.
Amorette made it halfway to the phone by the register when the café door flew open so violently, the glass cracked. She almost jumped out of her skin as the intruder strode toward her, and with vague recognition, her eyes scanned the ice-blond hair and massive form. The hulking man stormed for her, but fear overrode her rational thoughts as someone crashed through a door for the second time that morning. Amorette loosed a terrified grunt as she scrambled for the back room, but he wasupon her in two long strides. He caught her elbow in a gentle but firm hold and whirled her around to face him.
Her big brown eyes stared up with fear, tears blurring the chocolate color that matched the sweets she sold, and while some of her nerves were aimed at him, the horror she let him read in her features was for Doug, Cavitto, and the guns pointed in her face. She wondered if her thoughts of this blond Adonis had summoned him to her rescue, or if he was just another monster come to plague her. She held his gaze, watching his fury multiply, but she didn’t pull away as she realized his wrath was for her and not with her. She lingered against his hold, unconsciously waiting for him to help, for him to prove he wasn’t like the men she was fleeing, and a sudden possessive softness wove through his rage, softening its jagged edges.
With reverent movements, he brushed his thumb softly over her bloodied bottom lip. Crimson stained his finger, and anger flashed through his eyes. Righteous anger for her, and the dam broke in her soul, unleashing the horror with her relief. He was the largest man she’d ever seen, yet protectiveness wafted off him in palpable waves. She felt safe in his grip, and realizing this was the first time they’d touched in eight months, she didn’t understand why he’d never let his skin touch hers before. There was power in his hold, a fierce emotion racing through their connection, and a sob escaped her lips. The blond cupped her face gently, careful to avoid her bruising, before lowering his forehead to hers. He had to stoop to reach, but the moment their skin pressed together, he spoke, low and clear and deadly.
“Who did this to you?”
VALENTINE’S DAY, PRESENT
Who did this to you?”His voice was a song Amorette’s spirit recognized. Feral rage coated the rich tenderness in his words, and she collapsed against him. Her forehead leaned on his thickly muscled chest as her fists clutched his shirt, a life vest in the storm, and he wrapped her in his powerful embrace. He held her close, possessively, longingly, and the intoxicating scent of his skin reminded her of home.
“Tell me,” he murmured against her hair like a lover, like a warrior. “Tell me who hurt you.”
“No.” Amorette jerked back, shoving him away. “You can’t be here. I can’t let you get involved.”
“Too late for that.” He stepped forward with a single stride, closing the distance she desperately tried to put between them. “I’m already involved.” A soft groan escaped the back room, and he stiffened, alertness coiling through his massive frame. “Is he here?” he asked, as his rage multiplied. “Is the man who hurt you here?”
“Yes,” Amorette whispered with a nod. “One of them.”
