“How would you enjoy earning some overtime?”
“Sir, I haven’t slept yet. I’m heading home to crash.”
“That’s...perfect, actually. Beebee’s got a shipment coming in and the company just called to let us know it would get here late because they had to use a different driver. I need a few guys to help get the delivery inside. Calling you is easier than trying to convince Mr. Mak to let me give some idiot replacement a temporary clearance. Whattya say?”
Zeke glanced at the dash clock. “When do you need me there?”
“Get here around nine. Shipment’s due to arrive at nine-thirty, and then you’re free. I’ll even find a way to help you get tomorrow off.”
Two days in a row? It was a fecking miracle.
“Done,” Zeke said.
“Until seventeen-hundred, Irish,” Preston said with a laugh before hanging up.
He’d stop home, grab a quick nap, and head back to The Club. Once he was done there, he’d be able to go home and sleep in. Maybe start looking at those listings his realtor had sent him.
In the cup holder, the feminine scrawl on the coffee sleeve drew his attention.
Maybe he’d call Vivian. Stop by Divine Twins and order something else. A slow smile spread across his face. Yeah, tomorrow was looking up.
***
This has been an amazing day, Vivian thought to herself as she finished packing up her office. It had certainly started on the right foot. Meeting Shadow Man that morning left her warm and tingly the rest of the day. Her crazy stalker’s note had simply been a picture of the bakery sign scribbled out with black pencil; she’d emailed the detective who was handling her case a picture of the note since she wouldn’t have time to drop it off until tomorrow. Five new cake orders came in and people were beginning to place their bread and dessert orders for the holiday season.
Vivian stuffed her metal water bottle into her purse and took one final look around her office. Most of the paperwork was done, stacked neatly in her organizing trays. Computer off. Message machine on. It was time to go home.
She turned off the lights and headed for the back door, keys out in her hand. A letter fluttered to the ground when she swung the door open. She froze at the sight of the pale paper on the concrete steps.
The flash of a shadow a few feet away made her look up. The world stopped.
A tall figure in a bulky black hoodie watched her, hands stuffed the sweatshirt’s front pocket.
If she’d been thinking, Vivian would have stepped back, closed the door, and locked herself into the bakery so she could call for help.
Instead, she was dimly aware of herself screaming, “Freeze, you asshole!”
Like that, life again flashed into motion. Her stalker took off down the street. She rushed down the steps, nearly tripping in her effort to keep her eyes on the mysterious figure. From across the street, there came a low, foul oath and footsteps running toward her.
She gasped in surprise when Shadow Man grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Get inside and lock the damn door,” he ordered, accent heavy on the gruff order. His hands disappeared and he chased after the stalker.
It might have been seconds, it might have been minutes, but at some point Vivian realized her entire body was shaking. She backed slowly toward the steps, pausing long enough to bend down and pick up the letter, and followed Shadow Man’s directions.
It took her a few tries to lock the door properly. Once she was safely in the bakery, she set her back against the door and slid down it until she was a tiny, huddled mass of panic and nausea. The shaking wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard she wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked them to her chest.
No sounds from outside. Shadow Man wasn’t back yet.
What if the other guy had a gun? a cruel voice whispered in her head. Or a knife? What if Shadow Man’s injured out there and your nightmare’s coming back to finish you off?
She staggered to her feet, refusing to wait to find out if her worst fears were founded. She dug her cell phone from her purse and dialed the police. Once the operator let her know that a squad car was on the way, she took a few deep breaths and wandered into the kitchen, trying to decide if it was worth it to arm herself with one of her chef’s knives.
Instead, she grabbed a broken cookie off the plate of rejects she kept on the counter for her employees. The soft taste of powdered sugar and shortbread soothed, even if she was stress eating. Dammit, if she couldn’t stress eat at a time like this, there was no hope left in the world.
Time stretched on in an agonizing wait. The flashing blue and red lights through the bakery’s pane glass windows announced the arrival of Karim’s finest. She unlocked the front door to let the officers in. Detective Luciana Mancini gave her a sympathetic nod as she passed by.
“Did you get my photo earlier?” Vivian asked her.
“I did. Didn’t expect to get a call from you again so soon though. Can you walk us through what happened?”