“Pretty much.”
I can’t help but giggle and nod. I mean, how can I really argue with the man?
The entire drive to Bunz Out, Warden rides right in front of me, leading the way and making sure the route is safe. I might have said I didn’t need anyone to watch my back but having Warden with me does make me feel more secure.
It doesn’t take long to get to work and most of the time I’m gnawing my lip while thinking how pissed Turner is going to be about me trying to go off by myself. I’d love to think that he doesn’t have to know, but I doubt Warden will keep it from him.
I guess I’ll deal with the consequences of my own actions later. Much later.
The moment we pull up behind Bunz Out, I can tell something is wrong. It’s something with the door handle; it just looks off. The light above the door is still shining brightly, thankfully, but it looks like the handle is about to fall off.
Warden slides off the back of his bike and shoots me a look which clearly tells me to stay where I am, no words needed. When he gets to the back door, he reaches for the handle, andit clatters to the ground. I can hear the curse he bites out from here.
I’m out of the car before I have a chance to think about it. Lara lives upstairs. The stairwell up to her door has an entrance on the inside and outside of the bakery. The door to her apartment should be secure, but that doesn’t make me breathe any easier.
I pull my phone out and dial Lara without thinking about it. Warden turns toward me from where he’s hovering at the threshold of the kitchen, when he hears my footsteps.
“Go back to the car,” he tells me, his voice harsh, but it doesn’t scare me.
He doesn’t scare me.
“No,” I whisper-hiss. “There’s a door from the bakery to the stairwell that leads to Lara’s apartment. I need to make sure she’s safe.”
“Hello?” I hear her voice far away as she answers and put the phone to my ear. “What’s going on, Graycie, why are you calling me?”
“Someone broke in downstairs.”
“I’m on my way,” she shouts and I can hear her footsteps above us and on the phone.
“Fucking hell,” Warden grumbles, “dealing with Nancy Drew and a woman who runs toward danger.”
He pulls a gun from underneath his cut and points to a spot just inside the door. “Stay right there. When Lara comes racing in without a thought to her safety, have her stand right next to you.”
All I can do is nod quickly. Now that I’m inside, in a situation which is a complete mystery, while knowing Sylvester is in the state, I really wish I had stayed in the car. Regret hits me like a punch to the chest.
Turner is going to be pissed.
Lara throws the door open with far too much force, and I grab her and drag her back to our designated spot before she can go into full on action hero mode. That’s the last thing we need.
“Warden is doing a sweep of the building,” I tell her out of the corner of my mouth like I’m in a bad cop drama.
Lara nods, her face solemn, as if this whole thing makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. Not even with her knowing the basics about my past. Which I felt like I owed her when taking a few days off. This is a whole other level.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out and grip her hand a little tighter.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she whisper-hisses the words. When I glance at her, she’s staring into the darkness beyond the kitchen while probably wondering the same things I am.
Is there anyone out there? Who is it? How long do I wait for Warden to come back before I send up a flare; metaphorically at least?
Maybe literally. Right now, it could go either way, honestly.
My belly is flipping and I’m trying to focus on my breathing.
“You don’t know if this has anything to do with you anyway,” she points out, kind of unhelpfully.
I look her way, ready to defend the situation, to plead my case for me being the problem, the cause. But the look on herface makes me pause. There’s a resolve there, but there’s also no surprise. As if this isn’t new.
As if she’s had to deal with this kind of problem before.
