Rory turned back to me. “What does this mean?” She shook her head, lifting the phone. “Who is this?”
My head shook as my shoulders rustled in answer. But subconsciously, I knew. Or at least I think I did. After the first one there was only one person who came to mind when I tried to pull apart the mystery of who it was. If it was anyone.
And that name had been the thing keeping me awake at night for the past five months.
I took the phone from Rory and read it again.
Oh God.
Whoever was doing this was here. Somewhere.
My head snapped up, scanning the windows that had only the fading light of the sunset to show off the street outside. He could be behind a car. Or in one of the hundreds of windows in the apartment building across from the bakery. Or…
My head slowly turned to the security camera, right above the counter, its slow blinking light taunting me.
They could be watching every move I made. Without being near me at all.
That made my fight or flight kick in, and just like last time my body thought it best to fly. I gripped my phone in my hand and rounded the counter. “Can we go?” I pleaded to Rory, but as I turned my head, she was already grabbing our jackets and turning off the lights.
I sighed as I reached the door, the keys jangling in my hands as I found the right one to open it. “I’ll tell Flo it was anemergency if she asks why the counters aren’t done. I’m sorry, I just can’t be here.” I found the key and wedged it into the lock, twisting and pulling it open. “I need to tell Marcus about—”
As I pulled open the door, his body was there, filling up every inch of the doorframe. He was panting, like he’d run to get here. My frantic eyes ran all over his face, the stoic worry in his eyes glistening down on me.
“I know.”
chapter thirteen
any excuse to break out the murder gloves (kidding) (kind of)
“Iwon’t ask you again. What the fuck were you doing in there?”
The guy I had pinned up against an alley wall was relatively calm for someone who’d just been jumped, but the longer my hand was around his throat, the bigger the tears in his eyes became.
“I told you,” he croaked, sneaking a breath as I loosened my grip slightly. “My mate at work said I had to try this place, so I did.” He stole another breath, his chest heaving as his body wriggled for any kind of leverage. “He said it was open late on Tuesdays. I swear.”
That’s what I thought too when he walked into the bakery, ten minutes after it had closed. And when I watched Cora talk to him, with a smile on her face and a laugh here and there, I deemed him harmless.
That was until he left, and suspicion pricked at my nerve endings. He skulked into the alley where we were now, his phone in his hand, tucked way too close to his face, like he was determined to hide whatever he was doing.
That was when I’d jumped him.
And now here we were.
His phone was nestled in my other hand, and as I cut off his oxygen supply, I scrolled through it. There were hundreds of unread messages, but the one I was most interested in was the text thread he’d had open when I grabbed him. I scrolled, looking endlessly for messages containing Cora’s name. Anything to do with her, or any secret code that could have meant her.
But the more I scrolled, the more I felt like I’d jumped the gun. The texts were raunchy—too raunchy for my liking, if truth be told. And very clearly between him and a woman he shouldn’t be seeing. I looked back at the contact name, and when I read ‘Dominos,’ I had to hold back my laugh.
I turned to look at him, my grip loosening. “Got it bad for the stuffed crust or something?”
Cockiness coated his features. “She’s a mate from work. That’s all.” He struggled against me, and now that I wasn’t death-gripping him, his accent came through. Awfully similar to Cora’s. “If you were hired by my wife, then I’m sure there’s some arrangement we can come to. How much did she pay ya, huh? Whatever it was, I’ll double it.”
The pressure that had built in my chest lessened once I deemed him a waste of space.
To Cora, that was. If there were a way to find out who his wife was, I’d warn her to stay clear of this asshole.
“What’s your name?” I asked, my fingers tightening a little.
“Alfie Thompson.”
