Page 121 of Broken Pact

“You’re a smart man,” Mrs. Matthews says, patting my arm like she’s giving me her blessing. “But you better lock her down while you can, Jagger.”

“C’mon, gals, let’s leave the man to caffeinate our baker. We’ve got to get in another three miles this morning,” Mrs. Weatherby says, jerking her head toward the street.

The three of them leave in a puff of floral perfume and neon, power-walking down the sidewalk like a trio of badasses in a superhero movie.

Twenty minutes later, I pull up to Sugarplum Bakery armed with enough caffeine to make my girl forget that I agreed to watch any vampire movie of her choice tonight.

The front door is cracked open, just enough to set every alarm in my head blaring. I kill the engine, shoving the coffee cups into the holder and stepping out of the car in one fluid motion.

The bell above the door barely chimes as I push it open, and the familiar scent of sugar and melted chocolate hits me like it always does. But today, it’s tainted with something rotten and sour.

Tony Falcone stands in front of the counter.

Every muscle inside me tenses at the sight of him. What the fuck is he doing here? It’s been weeks since we squared up, which means there’s no reason for him to be polluting my girl’s airspace. He’s fucking toxic, the kind of destruction that causes chaos just because he thinks he can.

My eyes find her immediately. She’s standing behind the counter, lips pinched and brows low over worried eyes. She’s twisting her fingers together, her back pin straight. Yeah, my girl is uncomfortable.

“You okay, baby?” I ask, my voice low and steady as I step further into the bakery. I don’t take my eyes off of Falcone. I don’t fucking trust him.

“I’m fine. This is, uh?—”

“Now don’t you worry, sweet cheeks. Your old man and I are already acquainted. Ain’t that right, Reaper?” Falcone drawls, rocking back on his feet. He turns his head slowly, a smug grin spreading across his face as he catches sight of me.

I move closer, every muscle in my body coiled tight. “The fuck you doing here, Falcone?”

Falcone’s eyes gleam with something dark and twisted as he straightens up, brushing nonexistent dust off his ripped flannel. “Just tying up some loose ends.” He pulls a folded envelope out of his back pocket and tosses it to the counter. “Took longer for my lawyer to sort through Uncle Joey’s things. You know how these things go.”

Dread squeezes its fist around my heart, tight enough that I don’t think I can breathe for a few seconds. Outwardly, I maintain my stoic smirk, unwilling to let this motherfucker know he pulled one over on me.

Coraline clears her throat, but she doesn’t take the envelope. “What is this?”

“Open it,” Falcone instructs, folding his arms across his chest and smirking at me.

Coraline’s eyes dart towards me, her teeth worrying at the corner of her mouth. I meet her gaze and give a small nod, reassuring her.

She pulls out a bunch of papers, her gaze flying over them. She scans five or six of them quickly before she turns to Falcone. “I don’t understand. What changed?”

Falcone peels his smug grin from me to look at my girl. His laughter sounds like a gunshot, loud and abrasive. Hand on his stomach and head tipped back. “Oh fuck me, this is too good. He didn’t tell you?”

Coraline looks between Falcone and me, confusion clouding her features. "Tell me what?"

Falcone's cruel gaze lands back on me, mirth dancing in his eyes. "You wanna tell her, Reaper? Or should I?"

Every muscle in my body goes rigid, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ache. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, keeping my face impassive even as dread pools in my gut. I thought I had more time. Fuck this and fuck him for making me tell her like this.

Coraline’s confused gaze bores into me, her brow furrowed as she clutches the papers. “Jasper, what’s going on?”

My jaw works as I try to find the words, a sinking feeling settling in my gut. This isn’t how I wanted her to find out. Not like this, with Falcone in the front row.

I take a step toward her, my voice low and urgent. “Let me explain?—”

Falcone’s barking laughter cuts me off. “Oh this is too good. Goddamn, I almost wish Chad and Ernie were here to witness this. It might’ve made them dyin’ worth it, ya know.” He leans against the counter, his smirk widening when he sees Coraline’s stunned expression. “Oh, you didn’t know your man killed my boys? How curious.”

“I didn’t kill anybody,” my words come out like steel, unbending and ironclad.

Falcone scoffs. “Right, you just fucked ’em up real good and someone else offed ’em?”

Something inside of me shifts, like a switch was flipped. I cross the ten feet between us, planting myself between him and Coraline.

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