The fuckerblanches.
Worse?
I think I actually feel sorry for him.
Super Vengeance Manwouldn’t.
But I have a conscience, no matter how much I wish I didn’t when it comes to this blight of humanity.
“My grandpa would fucking kill me,” he says.
That, I feel less bad about. Dude lost this café all on his own. “He know about your gambling problem?”
Chandler slaps his mouth shut and turns a glare on me. He’s still holding my puzzle piece, and his elbows have pushed apart half the pieces I already had in order. “If nobody’s told you yet, you can’t believe the gossip that comes out ofsomepeople’s mouths.”
It’s not gossip.
It’s in the report from the private investigator I hired to find out why Chandler was selling his café.
Should’ve asked for a full report on his hobbies and interests and collections too, but all I wanted was to know why he was selling and how much financial trouble he was in.
“People here gossip?” I say.
He freezes again.
I know that look.
He’s piecing out a mental puzzle.He knows about my gambling problem but doesn’t think people here talk.
Zen stops next to my table and slides a cup of tea and a scone in front of me. “Eat. Drink. Be merry.”
Chandler looks up at them and squints, and in less than the span of a single heartbeat, I prepare to end his time on this earth.
If he says a single bad word about Zen, asks a single question wrong, or so much as moves a singleeyelashin a direction I don’t like, I willend him.
My fists curl.
My heart fires furiously.
And his phone rings—loudly—before whatever he’s thinking can come out of his mouth. He grabs it, still holding my puzzle piece with his other hand, still squinting at Zen, and answers. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”
Bitsy rolls her eyes.
“Always thought he did that because he was running three cafés and had a lot going on, but now we know he’s just a dick,” Jimmy mutters.
“What he did to Emma wasn’t your first clue?” one of the other men says.
Chandler flinches, then palms my puzzle piece and rises from the booth. “Yeah. Sounds good. I’m on my way.” He heads toward the door. “No, just dropped by to see if I could help the new guy at my old café. Dude’s in over his head. Got new weirdos working here. Gonna be asking for help soon enough.”
Weirdos.
When I want to charge out of the booth and tackle him, my vision clouds again while my head goes light. I pinch my lips together and breathe through my nose.
Fuck.
I grab the edge of the table and breathe.
And breathe.
