Page 92 of Executing Malice
This will end in one of two ways.
Someone else will piss Dolores off and she’ll forget about me, or she’ll set my house on fire and send me packing out of Jefferson. There is no middle ground with the Lady’s Tea Garden. Cut off the infected limb to save the patient is their motto. At the moment, I’m the limb threatening their way of life.
Reed won’t let them hurt me physically, nor would he allow them to burn his childhood home to the ground, but accidents happen. Sometimes, people die. I suppose I could apologize and keep my head down. Conform to their regime. Everyone does it. It’s just easier.
But it would come with conditions. At the moment, Dante is the thorn in their side. The reason for their daily meetings. They want him gone.
A chill scuttles up my spine even as I bolt upright, attention snapping to the wall of glass.
There’s still daylight.
They wouldn’t issue a hit when people can see it. They’ll wait until dark.
But even my rational reasoning doesn’t quiet the voice asking where is he then? It’s been hours. If he was going to the house, he would have been back by now. I’ve never heard of them taking anyone hostage before, but he’s not from Jefferson. No one, except me would notice his absence if they did.
I push out of my chair and hurry to the windows and peer along the street. The crowd has thinned, but there are still enough people to give me some peace of mind.
Maybe I should call Reed.
No idea what I would tell him, but I know he would know what to do.
I nibble on my thumb nail while staring anxiously at thefour-hour parkingsign bolted into the sidewalk in front of the bank.
I should have been nicer,I fret. I should have apologized and explained.
Damn it!
I need Reed. I need him to put out an APB on a biker. I’ll have to tell him everything, but I know I can trust him.
Heart hammering, I sprint back to the counter. My fingers are shaking when I drag open the bottom drawer and fish out my purse.
No sooner have I gripped the worn fabric when the bell jingles. My heart flops down into my belly before leaping into my throat even as I jerk upright.
“Dante.”
Not Dante.
The figure that swaggers in crushes every drop of hope I had lodged in my chest.
“Hello again.”
This day just won’t end...
The asshole from the other day strolls up to my counter, a beautiful arrangement of flowers in hand, wrapped in Opal’s Floral Paradise’s brown paper. My gaze swings from the bouquet to the man holding them, my displeasure unmasked.
“Can I help you?”
He offers me a lopsided grin that may have been boyish and sweet but only serves to irritate me.
“I was thinking about how we left things.” He holds up the flowers. “I thought an apology might make us both feel better.”
I gather my phone off the desk and grip it between us like a shield. In no hurry to accept his weird ass gift.
I never understood flowers or offering them to another person as a gesture of affection. It’s giving a dying thing you tore out of the ground that will shrivel up and rot.
Plus, it’s so common. Cliché and boring.
But he’s waiting for me to accept.
