Page 36 of Her Silver Fox Mountain Men

Irush into town.

James, Oliver, and Roman will be waiting for me back at their place so we can have lunch together, which means I have about an hour to get this thing sorted and rid myself of a fast-growing demon that is making my throat feel tighter with each passing second.

My brother knew to signal that it wasn’t safe for us to speak and for that I’m grateful. It doesn’t answer my burning question, though. It just confirms that Igor is momentarily back in Chicago.

I find Shauna outside her flower shop, smoking a cigarette.

She gives me a sour look as soon as I get out of the car, holding up the card for her to see. “You delivered some flowers to my place. I want to know who sent them.”

“Whoa, slow your roll there, princess,” she cackles and tosses away the butt. “You didn’t like the arrangement?”

“I need to know who sent them!” I snap.

Her bitter mood fades, briefly replaced with concern. “Okay. It seems we got off on the wrong foot here,” Shauna says. “Let’s take a moment, a deep breath, and then start over. What do you say, Elise?”

“My apologies,” I reply, glancing up and down the street.

It’s not too crowded at this hour, but I know from experience it’ll get busy closer to lunch. Candy’s is always open, their specials written in bright chalk on an outdoor blackboard, and my the lunch rush will soon start at the diner as well. The current absence of pedestrians, however, gives me an opportunity to scan the main street as I search for a sign, anything to confirm one of my suspicions.

But nothing jumps out at me.

“Shauna, first of all, about yesterday—” she cuts me off with a tight smile and a raise of her hand.

“Let’s not. The past is the past and I shouldn’t have dredged it up like that,” she says. “But I’m not going to apologize. I stand by what I said, though I should’ve kept my opinions to myself.”

“Alright, fine. Back to my issue. I found a large bouquet of white roses outside my place this morning with this note attached. I would like to know who sent them. They came from your shop.” I hand her the envelope.

“This did come from my shop,” Shauna mutters. “But it was an online order. I get plenty of those on a daily basis.”

“Who placed this one? You must have a name, an address, some sort of way to track online orders.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “How close are you with Oliver and the guys?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked a simple question. Answer mine if you want me to answer yours.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I say.

She laughs in my face. “It kind of does because I’m not obligated to divulge my clients’ personal information, not even to the recipients of the flowers they pay me to send over.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her shrug tells me she’s serious. I can see at least one reason why it ended between her and the guys. Roman would never tolerate this sort of opportunistic blackmail. “So? How close?”

“It’s none of your business, Shauna. But the identity of anyone knowing where I live is definitely my business. I have a right to know.”

“Come back with a court order,” she hisses as she hands me the note.

“Shauna—”

“Court. Order.”

She goes into the shop, slamming the door behind her for good measure. I feel like the ultimate fool, standing outside on the pavement, staring at the note.

My livelihood and my safety are now at stake.

But I can’t openly say that. I haven’t even filed a police report over the years. They’d know about it, and he’d find me.

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