CHAPTER 32
BELLE
I sigh as I sweep up the shop. Life has gone back to normal except that I really miss my husband. That’s the biggest reason I’m glad that it’s Friday. I get to see Killian tomorrow, and the joy of that is pretty much indescribable. I wish I could spend the night again with him, but at least, we will get to see each other. I’ll have to be satisfied with that.
“Hey, Belle, I’m about to head out. Are you good?” Denise asks, slinging her purse over her shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going to finish up the cleaning and get out of here.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she says with a wave before walking out the door. As the minutes tick by, I get more and more excited about seeing Killian. Although it will hurt to see him there and have to leave him, I’ll be able to touch him. With the phones always being monitored, he doesn’t call, really, and being without even the simple pleasure of his voice has been hell.
I have been bugging Ryan about trying to get him out sooner. He’s been assuring me that he’s trying his best, but I’m starting to feel desperate. After lying in his arms, the bed at home feels so empty. Home. That’s exactly what Killian’s house has become. It’s quite possibly the first home I’ve ever had.
I walk into the back room to clean up there. I pick up the dishes and things that were used today and gather them in my arms. I take them to the small sink when the chiming tone goes off indicating someone came through the front door. I mutter a curse knowing I should’ve locked up after Denise left. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t even think about it.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed and not accepting any walk-ins this late,” I call out, hoping they will just leave. Some customers don’t understand closing time or a full schedule.
“That’s okay. That’s not why I’m here,” a man’s voice calls back out. Chills run down my spine. We don’t keep enough cash on hand to warrant getting robbed. I’m an idiot. Now I’m in here with a stranger.
Before I can react, the curtain that separates this room from the front of the shop is pulled open. He steps in making the small room even smaller. I would go immediately into the front, but when I tear my gaze from the guy who is now crowding me, I notice there’s another man standing in the doorway, blocking it.
Crap.
“Who are you?” I ask. I have a feeling I won't like their answer.
“You wouldn’t recognize our names, but we have a message from our aunt,” one of them says. He has a slight accent, but I can't place it—of course, my heart is thundering in my ears so it’s hard to figure out anything right now. I’m too busy trying to control my panic.
I take a step back to the counter and grab it. I’m faking my legs being weak—although it’s a wonder they’re not. I’m pretending that I’m holding myself up because of my fear. I’m afraid, but instead of giving into it, I’m actually pressing the alarm button E-Z had installed before I opened.
We actually argued about it. E-Z insisted that it was necessary for my safety. I felt it was way too much since we had standard equipment installed already.
Turns out, I was completely wrong.
“What aunt?” I ask. She could be anyone. I’ve never seen these two men in my life.
The other man grins, “Orla O’ Leary.” I feel the blood drain from my face as I try to keep my breathing even. Panicking isn’t going to help me right now.
“What possible message could she have for me when I don’t even know her?”
That might have been the wrong thing to say. I can tell that one of the men doesn’t like it because he takes a menacing step towards me, his face full of anger that he’s not bothering to hide. I’m pressed against the counter already. Unless I turn and run to the back door, I’m trapped. Somehow, I don’t think it’s smart to turn my back on them. My palms are slick with sweat as panic itches to take hold while I scramble to form a plan. Nothing is coming to mind. I’ve lived in a sketchy neighborhood my whole life, and I’ve never been this afraid in my life.
“You know her,” the tallest of the two laughs. I notice that they are almost identical in looks. They both have jet black hair that is so dark that the light almost makes it look purple at times. Their eyes are just as black, and I think that might be what makes them look the most terrifying. It’s as if they are soulless and empty. Kilian’s eyes are dark too, but they’re vibrate. They remind me of chocolate, full of warmth.