Cara let out a bitter laugh. "Absolutely not."
Gabe nodded like he'd expected that. "Didn't think so."
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Just focused, with an intensity that made her want to back away. "You're not staying here alone."
"I can't just leave.” She answered automatically.
Had they searched her apartment, too? They’d been far more careful if they had.
“I’m guessing they hit your apartment, too.” Gabe echoed her thoughts.
“There weren’t any signs of a search.”
“Because they couldn’t be sure you weren’t down in the bakery.”
She swallowed hard. “But once they headed down here, they’d know the entire building was unoccupied.”
Gabe toed a broken cup. “And they were running out of time. No need to search quietly down here.” He shoved his hands on his hips and stared her down. "If I think you know something, they think so too." His tone gentled slightly. "I'm not getting you killed because you're too stubborn to accept help."
She could only wish it was stubborn pride. How had her brilliant plan to get him gone ASAP morphed into…this?
But no matter the cost, she couldn’t refuse his help now. She might be stubborn, but Gabe Sawyer was relentless.
Her hands tightened around the mug. "So what now?"
Gabe grabbed a broom from where it had fallen behind the counter. Handed it to her.
Not mocking. Not dismissive. Just practical.
"Now we clean up." He met her eyes. "Then we find my brother."
15
The plan had been simple.Show up a little after four-thirty and corner Cara about the notebook while she was still half-asleep and unprepared.
Instead, the bakery door stood open when he arrived.
His hand went to his weapon before conscious thought caught up. Training kicked in, overriding everything else. The door shouldn't be open. Not at this hour. Not when she was so careful about everything else.
He moved silently to the entrance. Listened.
Nothing. No voices. No movement. Just the smell of destruction.
Flour. Vanilla. Something sharp and wrong.
He found her in the basement, small and still like prey deciding whether to run or fight.
The protective instinct hit him harder than it should have. Harder than was smart given how many questions she hadn't answered. How many lies she'd probably told.
But standing there among the wreckage, watching her try to hold herself together, Gabe couldn't make the anger stick.
He'd confront her about it when she wasn't in shock. Right now, she needed help whether she deserved it or not.
He made her tea. Documented everything with his phone while she sat at the one clear table, hands wrapped around the mug like it was the only solid thing left in her world.
The boot prints matched the Sea Breeze. Same tread. Same size. Same deliberate search pattern.
They'd been hunting for something specific. And they'd torn apart her bakery to find it.
