Page 16 of Forever a Thief

And boring as hell.

I try not to dwell on that sad fact. Not today, not any day. Not worth it. I’ll take boring over getting shot at or stabbed any day of the week.

Grabbing my purse, I shove the car door open and get out. The SoCal sun shines high above me, warm and bright. It’s already a beautiful day out. So I’m not sure why a shiver runs down my spine. Wrapping my arms around myself, I pause mid-step in the middle of the parking lot. It feels like someone just walked over my grave.

Shaking the eerie feeling off, I head for the rear door, reaching into my purse to retrieve the ring of keys for the restaurant. After finding the correct one, I unlock the back door and step inside. Normally, the back room is tidy and neatly-organized—it’s where I keep boxes of supplies—but I immediately notice a few have tipped over. The smell of vinegar makes my nose tingle and I spot a broken bottle of ketchup. I assume it must’ve happened during our mad dash through here with a gunman chasing after us last night. Guess my front door wasn’t the only casualty.

Well, I suppose it could be worse.

Dropping my purse on top of a nearby cardboard box, I move toward the supply closet then stop. Crap. I ran out of floor cleaner earlier in the week and had to buy more. Currently, it’s sitting in my trunk.

With another long sigh, I twist my hair up into a knot on top of my head, find my car key and accept it’s just going to be one of those days. The kind no amount of coffee can fix and all you can do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head. Unfortunately, I can’t do that. I have a business to run. After I clean it up.

Turning on my heel, I push out the back door. Shading my eyes from the bright sunshine, I take only a few steps before the most ominous sound I’ve ever heard fills my ears. A deep boom rumbles behind me, instantly followed by an intense wave of heat.

I have no idea what’s happening, but one minute I’m walking, and the next, I’m being lifted off my feet and thrown forward through the air. My body hits the pavement hard, and I yelp out a pained shout. For a stunned moment, I lie on my back, staring up at the blue sky, then curl into a ball and cover my head with my arms as debris falls down around me.

Pushing up into a sitting position, I cough and squint through a haze of black smoke.

Oh, my God.

Flames consume the building. My restaurant is on fire!

Scrambling to my feet, I race back inside the back room, covering my nose with my arm. The flames haven’t reached here yet, so I yank the fire extinguisher off the wall, preparing to find the source of the fire and try to put it out. I barely make it two steps into the smoky hallway when a pair of strong arms pull me back.

“Are you crazy?” a deep voice asks, yanking me up against a hard chest. I instantly recognize Laurent’s voice, and he’s hauling me away when I need to stop this fire.

“Put me down!” I yell, trying to twist free.

“You can’t put out an inferno with that!”

He’s right. And now that I’m not looking at it through a panicked haze, the thick smoke tells me the fire is much bigger than I first realized. Whatever happened, it’s more than just an oil fire in the kitchen or an electrical problem. I drop the extinguisher as Laurent sweeps me up into his arms and rushes back down the hall, through the supply room and out the rear door.

Fresh air hits me, and I suck in a few deep breaths as Laurent moves us away from the burning building. Once we’re a safe distance away, he carefully sets me down, and I turn around to face the full scene. Shock pummels through me at the sight. The entire place is ablaze. Years of hard work is burning down right before my eyes.

“No,” I gasp, my legs turning to jelly. Devastated doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling. My restaurant—a place I put my heart and soul into—is burning down.

Laurent grabs my arms, holding me up when I’m on the verge of crumpling to the ground. Hot tears burn my eyes as the sound of sirens signal the approaching firetrucks.

“Don’t look, chérie.” He turns me around, pulling me into his arms. Holding me. A sob breaks free from my throat as I sag against him.

“I’ve just lost everything,” I whisper raggedly.

“No. You’re alive.” His hand moves up and down my back, attempting to reassure me. Console me. “It could’ve been so much worse.”

I suppose he has a point, but it’s hard to focus on that right now. All I keep thinking about is all the work it took to make my dream a reality. Encountering and navigating endless trials and tribulations, the long nights and longer days I spent to get Charlie’s Place up and running. It’s my only source of income. Without it, I have nothing.

My knees buckle and Laurent’s hold tightens. If he wasn’t holding me up, I’d be on the ground, sobbing my eyes out.

“Please, don’t cry, chérie. I’ve got you. Everything will be okay.”

I’d like to believe that, but I’m not very optimistic. Harper is the one who sees rainbows and butterflies. I see gray clouds and caterpillars. And right now, I’m not even sure I can see those.

Because I’ve lost everything. It’s all gone.

Two hours later, I’m sitting on the bench across the street from the burned-out hole that used to be Charlie’s Place. I’ve thanked the firemen who managed to put the flames out. I’ve talked to the police and responded to concerned texts from employees who already saw live coverage on the local news. A numbness has settled over me, but Laurent is right. It could’ve been so much worse. I could be dead right now. I came far too close to being consumed by the flames. If I had been in my office…

A shudder tears through me. They said that’s where they believe the fire originated. The word arson briefly came into play, but nothing is definite until they can conduct a full investigation. One thing seems terrifyingly clear, though—there was an explosion. Until I know otherwise, I’m going to assume it was a freak accident with a gas line beneath the restaurant. Just my rotten luck at play. And not at all someone intentionally trying to blow up my business, and potentially me in the process.