I nod before I say, “Agreed.”
“I’m going back to the lounge to keep an eye on my girl, and I suggest you do the same. Evie’s yours until we get there.”
“She’s mine even when you’re here.”
I don’t care about the fucking surprise anymore.
“Heard. Chase.” He pauses, the gravity of what we’re thinking settling in. “We don’t know what this is, but I believe your fucking gut. Just promise if anything goes sideways, swing first and call the fucking cops second.”
“I got you.”
We both hang up before either of us says goodbye, and I take a deep breath, quickly texting Evie back.
Me:don’t eat that shit. It’ll be in your stomach for years. Here’s an idea ... when I’m done here, I’m gonna drive up and hang.We’ll drive home together when you’re off with a quick stop at your fave donut place.
Evil:Stop talking dirty to me.
I let out a heavy breath, because if our nightmare is angling for a sequel, I’ve got way more to lose than just my life. I’ve got Evie.
Let’s hope this is nothing, I think as I turn off the car, pushing the door open with my foot before exiting. I’m glancing around the parking lot, noticing there still isn’t another car.
It’s always weird to be here before the opening, because it’s like the calm before the storm, but right now my eyes aren’t just looking for the art guy ... I can’t shake the idea that I’m not alone.
I stand quietly, taking in the night. A couple’s walking together across the street and there’s a stray cat on the wall. It’s an otherwise normal night.
My eyes narrow as I hear Noah in my mind again.The most important thing is if someone is watching, we can’t let on.
“This guy better hurry the fuck up,” I say to myself, jingling my key chain as I start toward the restaurant door.
I look at my phone for the time as a breeze blows, but I’m fifteen minutes early. We’d said nine because the delivery guys couldn’t be here until after the shop closed. I was happy to oblige, considering it was a rush order.
A heavy exhale leaves me as I stop in front of the door, glancing over my shoulder into the darkness. I’m fiddling with my restaurant keys, looking for the right one before I reach down for the handle.
My hackles rise when I hear a car rev, darting my attention to someone pulling out from a parking spot too quickly.
“Dick,” I whisper, holding the knob as I bring my key to the lock, but when I stick it in to turn, there’s no tension.
What the fuck?
It’s already open.
My heart begins thrumming faster as I quietly shove my keys back into my pocket. I swallow, looking around again as a thousand thoughts war inside my head.
Anyone could be inside ... I should just call the cops, but ...
If there’s someone inside who might be trying to hurt us. To hurt my girl. I’m handling it. Tonight.
I glance over my shoulder once more, an ominous feeling settling in my bones before I slip inside.
The kitchen’s pitch black, mainly because the front windows have been papered with a sign about the opening in a few days. So I stand for a moment, letting my eyes acclimate before I cautiously take a step forward, keeping my footsteps quiet while I look around.
But nothing seems out of order.
I glance at my knives, wrapped in their leather casing, still sitting where I left them. And the metal counters gleam even in the darkness as I let my fingers skim the surface while taking one silent step after another.
My head shifts to the wall cutout that’s open to the front of the house. I don’t see anything, especially in the dark, so I squint and stand still, waiting to hear something, anything.
I don’t.
