Without missing a beat, Cain slides his large, warm hand along my lower back, curves his fingers around my side and pulls me to him. His eyes are glacial, a man on a mission, but my body doesn’t seem to care. At the feel of his hand on me, my blood heats, an electric current coursing its way straight through me. I can’t help but step closer to him. I like the way my body tingles, as if every nerve knows this is a man who knows how to treat a woman’s body.
The woman heading toward us halts mid-step, then shoots me a scowl. I don’t know if I want to stick my tongue out at her or punch her.
We step further inside, and a waitress hands us some menus.
“Do you still have wings on the menu? Babe, you remember those wings you like?”
Babe? Wait, what? Cain Master’s just staked his claim on me, and I have no idea why. But when the woman who’d been heading toward us steps to the side, it’s starting to become clearer.
I draw in a shaky breath and laugh. I could get into this. “I do. You’re the best, honey.” Gag. Me.
A glimmer of a smile crosses his lips, like a particle of sun breaking through clouds before they swallow it up again. “Anything for you.”
This is a front. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Let’s sit at the bar,” I suggest, gesturing toward the bar.
“Sure thing, baby.”
God! He’s really pushing this. I make gagging motions with my finger down my throat, then slice my hand in the air in front of me. Stop!
He mouths, “Nope.”
Argh!
I hop up on a bar stool, but he shakes his head at me. “Scoot over.”
“You wanna sit here?”
“I do,” he says through tight lips. He’s the boss, and he has his reasons, so I move to the left and let him take the seat I was in. “I can see all exits this way.”
I’d be pleased if I felt he’d made this move to protect me, but I don’t romanticize shit.
The bartender, a thin, kinda young ginger with a scraggly beard and piercings all along each ear and his eyebrow welcomes us. “Can I get you two a drink?”
His eyes linger a little longer on Cain. He recognizes him, I think. Hard to forget a guy like him.
“Soda water with lemon,” I order. Cain gets a soda.
“I know you,” the bartender says to Cain when he hands us our drinks. Bingo.
“Yeah?” Cain takes a sip of his drink and places it back on the counter. His eyes flit over my shoulder, scanning the entrance, before he looks back at the bartender. He folds his arms across his chest, and his muscles bulge. I don’t know if he’s trying to intimidate him on purpose, but the bartender takes a step back. “How do you know me?”
“On second thought, not sure I do. You remind me of someone.”
He turns to walk away.
“He’s Skylar’s brother,” I say loudly enough to get his attention. “Do you know her?” I keep a close eye on the people watching us. Does anyone look guilty? Curious? Does anyone know her?
Cain shoots his eyes to me, the quickest glance. I pull out my phone and open up a picture of her.
“We’re actually looking for her,” I say casually. “Have you seen her recently?”
The bartender wipes down condensation from my glass, then slides it over to me as my phone beeps. “Haven’t seen her.”
He doesn’t make eye contact, though, and as soon as someone else comes to the bar, he walks away from us to take their order.
“He’s lying and avoiding us.” I sip my soda and check my phone.
“Agreed. The question is, why?”
There’s a string of texts from Candi.
Candi: Where are you? No one’s seen you at work and you never miss.
Me: I’m doing a job. I can’t tell you any more right now.
Candi: Are you safe?
I look at Cain. Am I safe? Hell no, I’m not safe. But he’s likely not going to hurt me in the next few minutes, so I can lie for now. I have to.
Me: Yes.
Candi: What did you need to know?
Me: You said there was a rise in sexual assault cases lately. What did you tell me about flowers?
Candi: It’s his signature move. He leaves flowers for his victims before he rapes them. Why do you need to know?
I don’t reply.
The baby’s breath at my breast feels suddenly hot, burning against my skin like a brand.
I try to reason with myself. Not every flower is a sign.
I’m going crazy.
Half a minute later, another text comes in.
Candi: Hey. You’re nowhere to be found then the next thing I know, you’re asking me about active cases. Way to freak me out. What the hell is going on?
Me: I don’t know. I glance at the monster of a man sitting beside me and release a breath. I’m safe. That’s all I can tell you right now. Have there been any survivors?