Page 60
Less eyes, less possibility of their dirty secrets escaping.
The back door leads me to a long hallway with doors on each side.
The last time, she cooked a meal to gain access to Julienne. Maybe that will be the plan again.
My heart beats into my throat as I continue towards where I know the kitchen is. I open a door into the dining area, hyperaware of any sounds.
The space is filled with a long dining table that is set for two. There is an oversized crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Next to the expansive stained glass window is a closet door, and just past that is the kitchen.
No one is here.
Of course not, this house was notoriously bare-boned. They didn’t even allow staff to stay long.
Passing the window, I glance outside and find the sun is dipping down a motley of colors skewed by the stained glass.
It is silent for a few beats, but before I can make it to the kitchen, I hear footsteps coming from another direction. I throw myself into the closet, leaving a small crack to see out of.
Rondelle and Chard enter the room chatting excitedly.
“They’ll be here tonight. Another shipment, I can’t wait to teach them manners.” Rondelle laughs, settling into the head of the table.
Even from here, I know that pisses Chard off. The narcissistic asshole, my uncle, lived in my father’s shadows, and it made him angry in a cruel and calculated way.
I always knew not to be in a room alone with him.
Why would Reuben send Cinnamon out here? Surely he knows the rumors. The danger.
I stomp down the concern for Cinnamon that boils up. I shouldn’t worry about a killer, but she isn’t—
Her face flashes behind my eyes, and my heart fills with a warmth I am unaccustomed to.
“You always go for the submissive bitches. I love the fighters. To watch the joy and resolve fade from their eyes.” Chard falls into the empty seat, kicking his feet out onto the table.
Rondelle raises an annoyed brow but doesn’t comment.
“Any news on your brother’s death?” Chard slices out to Rondelle emotionlessly. “Dying of an allergy…seems a bit…” Chard’s lips twitch in amusement.
Chard is fucking with him.
“No but he promised the best detectives on the case,” Rondelle grumbles.
He? Do they have an insider at the department?
Sergeant Cacao’s face flashes in my mind.
“Where’s our fucking dinner?” Rondelle snaps.
As if on cue, Cinnamon exits the kitchen holding two bowls.
Chard straightens, his brows raising in shock. “Who are you?” he demands of her.
“Uh, the chef?” she offers, circling the table and setting the bowls down in front of the men.
And then I remember exactly why she is here…
How is she planning on taking them both out?
Should I stop her?
