“That’s new,” she said, tying an apron with the Cassie’s Cuppa logo around her waist.
“What is?”
She touched a finger to her neck. “The choker.”
My pulse raced when I remembered the Hawks’ collar, still around my neck. I’d been avoiding them for the past three days — ever since the interlude with Vigo in my room — and I hadn’t wanted to ask if I had to keep it on. Asking meant talking to them, and honestly I didn’t trust myself to do that without begging them to fuck me already.
I’d kind of gotten used to the collar after the first couple of days, and I was glad it passed for a choker instead of what it was: a mark of ownership by the Hawks.
“Yeah,” I said, “I picked it up at a gift shop near the retreat center.”
I felt bad lying to her, but what was I supposed to say?The three masked men who marked me with their blood, chained me to a wall, and almost made me come force me to wear it?
Kaylee was young and open-minded, but somehow I didn’t see the explanation going over very well.
“How was it?” Kaylee asked, turning on the register.
“How was what?”
“The retreat.” She studied me. “You okay?”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I still have my head in the clouds. It was great.”
“You must be so relaxed,” Kaylee said.
I nodded like a puppet. “Totally.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you went. You deserved a break. And Drew and I were fine.”
“I can see that,” I said. “You guys did great.”
I wasn’t just saying it: the shop was immaculate. Everything was stocked and in its place, like I could have been gone another week without a single problem. I remembered something I’d heard on one of the business podcasts I listened to — thatyou knew you had a sustainable business when it could survive without you — and felt a swell of pride.
Almost half of small businesses failed within the first five years. I was at year three and everything felt like it was getting better and better: a little more money every year, more brand recognition, and solid support staff who were clearly competent and conscientious in my absence.
My gaze snagged on the bulletin board at one end of the room. It had been a while since I’d done a purge of the announcements and notices customers pinned to the board, and it was messy and overcrowded, the multicolored pieces of paper overlapping in a chaotic jumble of color and text.
The rest of the shop was clearly in order so I crossed the room and scanned the board, then started removing the notices announcing events that had already passed. There were a lot of them, and I made a mental note to check the board more often. It had become part of the furniture in the shop, but it was a messy background note that was easy to fix.
Removing the old notices left me room to rearrange the remaining flyers, although there was still a little overlap. I tried to make sure the headlines were visible at least, and I’d just unpinned a yellow flyer offering dog-walking services when I noticed heavy black letters screaming from a stark white piece of paper:MISSING.
I assumed it was for a dog, or maybe a cat. I couldn’t count the number of times someone had come in asking if we’d seen a dog or cat hanging around the store. One time someone was even looking for a pet bird.
But when I unpinned the flyers on top of it I saw that it wasn’t a notice for a lost pet.
It was for a missing woman.
Missing!
Rain Adakai
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 130 lbs
