"Sure," she said. "But allhesaid was that he's eaten enough dried fruit to last a lifetime."
I froze.Oh, shit.
Remember those alarm bells?
Now, they were ringing in double time.Cranberries. A duffel bag. A guy hot enough to make Maisie swoon.
I sucked in a breath. "Oh, my God."
Maisie frowned. "What?"
My stomach was doing cartwheels. "The duffel."
"What duffel?"
I tried to recall Maisie's words from just a few minutes ago. "You mentioned that he was carrying a duffel yesterday, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
I braced myself. "Was it big and black?"Please say no. Please say no…
But Maisie nodded. "Yeah."
Double shit.
She continued. "But that's a pretty common bag. Why do you ask?"
I felt nearly nauseated. "I think I met him."
As Maisie stared in surprise, I answered the next logical questions silently in my own head.
Where?
At the coffee shop.
And with who?
Ryder Freaking Vaughn, that's who.
Damn it.
So Maisie's dangerous new employeewasfrom Chicago?
By now, the alarm bells were screaming. Thissowasn't good.
32
Too Quiet for Comfort
Ryder
I'd wanted to hit the coffee shop first thing. But I'd learned a thing or two about timing. So I waited until late afternoon, maybe half an hour before closing, when the caffeine crowds would be thin, and Tessa would be free to talk.
That was the idea, anyway.
But when I finally stepped inside, she was nowhere to be found.
No barista.
