“Remember me?” I ask, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way his face falls in recognition. At the fear that fills his eyes.
Chase Levine did nothing to deserve a woman like Sydney. And so long as he is alive, she will never know peace.
Killing him is a long time coming, and I hope to make his death as slow and painful as possible.
“No one will help you if you scream,” I assure him, digging the barrel of my gun into his spine as I grip his shoulder tightly. From the pathetic little noise he makes, he knows it’s true. I glance quickly toward the street as my car pulls up to the curb. Pressing the gun into him a little harder than necessary, I steer him toward it. “Nod once if you understand me.”
He nods quickly, head bobbing up and down.
“Good,” I say, reaching around him to open the car door. “Get in. You and I need to have a little chat about boundaries.”
I’ve just gottenhim situated in the wet lab when my phone beeps, a sharp alarm.
It’s not a tone I recognize.
Frowning, I pick it up, opening the alert from my security app.
Smoke alarm.
And another.
And another.
Fear grips my heart as I pull up the video feed, pulse pounding in my ears as I watch the flames surge and grow.
As I watch Sydney’s building catch fire.
50
JADE
I sigh,straightening from behind the bakery counter and finally—finally—letting myself stop and rest for a second.
It’s notimpossiblefor me to run the shop all on my lonesome, even with the deluge of new customers Syd’s boy toys have magically summoned out of thin air for us. Hell, it’s not even all that difficult.
But it’s lonely. I miss my Syd when she’s not here. I miss our little furball, attacking my feet.
What’s the point of making the best damn pastries in the city if my best friend isn’t around to scarf them down with me at the end of a long workday? If she isn’t here to gossip with me over some fresh shortbread?
Whatever. Just means more stale cookies for me to eat for breakfast tomorrow, I suppose. I shouldn’t complain. It’s about damn time that girl got out and did something fun for a change.
Fuck, I could kill Chase for what he did to her. Not just the obvious things, the cheating, the systematic abuse, the stalking, but the little things too. He made her feel so small, so insignificant for so long, that she started to believe that was who she really was.
Now, finally, the Sydney I knew for so long before that dickhead showed up is coming back. And if it takes four different boyfriends to make that happen, who am I to judge?
Maybe together the five of us can convince her to make a habit of this. She could start taking a night off every week, have some time for herself, go on real dates with them. It wouldn’t be so bad to run the shop on my own for a few hours every week, not if it meant Sydney got to enjoy her life a little more.
Satisfied with that idea, and thinking I might just text Doc about it, I gather up the very last of the leftover pastries and start to box them up. I’m just slotting the last croissant into place when the bell above our shop entrance chimes, and the door opens.
Frowning, I turn. I’d locked the door when I’d closed earlier… Hadn’t I?
I don’t recognize the man who walks inside, which makes me think he’s never been a customer here before. A man like that stands out. Draws attention.
“Sorry, but we’re closed,” I say loudly, narrowing my eyes at him.
He’s older, maybe in his fifties. With a silver and wood cane in one hand, he steps slowly into the café, leaning heavily on the cane for support. His hair is slicked back, a golden blond just turning silver at the temples. He’s built like an athlete just past his prime.
He looks like trouble.
