Page 98 of Broken Pact

“You tell Falcone I’ll be seeing him.” I point at both of them with the wrench as I walk backward toward my bike.

Hawke follows close behind, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Damn, bro. I haven’t seen you go full Reaper like that in a long time. I’m having the worst case of déjà vu right now even asking this, but you sure we should leave ’em alive?” he jokes, but there’s an undercurrent of steel in his voice.

“For now.” I slip the wrench back in my saddlebag and get on my bike.

“What if they run to Falcone?”

“Where do you think we’re headed next? But first, I gotta make a stop at the bank.”

46

CORALINE

The sweet smell of buttercream frosting and fresh-baked vanilla cake fills the air as I pipe delicate rosettes. Two dozen perfect dairy-free vanilla cupcakes topped with pale pink rosettes, ready for Mrs. Matthews’ granddaughter’s baby shower.

I place four on a pretty blue platter and bring them to the front of the bakery. I grab a couple staging supplies and set up my ring light. Once I’m satisfied with the angles and the colors, I snap some photos.

A text notification comes through.

Grant: I’m growing impatient, Coraline.

Then another.

Grant: I’m done with these games.

And another.

Grant: Time to come back to where you belong.

They keep rolling in, one after another like he’s hitting send after every thought instead of sending one big text.

Grant: I told you that she meant nothing to me.

Grant: What more do you want from me?

Grant: A man has needs, Coraline.

Grant: It’s not my fault I had to get my needs met elsewhere.

Grant: Stop acting like a bitch.

And that’s enough for one day. I move to his contact and block him. I should’ve done it weeks ago honestly.

I sigh, turn up my music, and get back to work.

My internet besties are going to love the way the pink pops against the blue platter and white marble countertop. It sort of reminds me of Barbie pink, just a couple shades lighter.

I sing along to the playlist as I take a few more photos at different angles, adjusting the light settings. With a satisfied sigh, I box up Mrs. Matthews’ cupcakes and start cleaning up.

I stifle a yawn, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Sleep has been elusive these past two nights, ever since I left the sanctuary of Jasper’s lake house.

I thought I’d be okay, being at my house all alone. And for the most part, I am. But I’ve never been more aware of every creak and groan of the apartment. I never realized how noisy it is until now. Or how afraid I am of being alone in the dark.

Or maybe I’m just scared of being caught off guard by those guys again.

I gently press my fingertips to the tender skin underneath my eye. It’s faded a little, enough that I think I can reasonably conceal it with a little makeup. I thought about not covering it up out of spite or some kind of fuck you to those assholes, but I realized it’s not worth answering all the questions everyone would have.

I started sleeping with a baseball bat propped up against my nightstand. And I got the money from the bank, so I’ll be ready when they come back again. I wish there was a way for me to just pay them and be done with it. All this waiting around for them to just show up has me on edge. But short of asking around how to find some guys whose last names I don’t even know, I don’t have another option.

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