Page 45 of Bake the Town Red

I am not. I’m here, careful not to make a noise as I close the door to the baking room. Lock it.

We’re all alone here. She and I.

My nose scrunches. Why does my heart ache at that?

Tyler. That’s why.

A part of me wishes he would’ve stayed for this. He would’ve been proud, I imagine, watching me take matters into my own hands. Get a grip on my October meltdowns. Murder bad people in the most creative ways.

He might’ve even liked it. Might’ve wanted to stay for good.

Except he left. Again.

He’s not going to get far.

This isn’t over, Ty.

But it is over for Birdie. I wrap an arm around her throat. Choke her.

Grin widely when she passes out.

“For our next trick, I present to you—Birdie.”

My invisible audience roars. Hands clap. People hoot.

Then it’s just Birdie and me again.

I tower over her naked, hogtied body, arms crossed over my chest.

“What the—” Her face is flush red. She wiggles on her stomach, doing her best to escape. “What the hell is going on?”

It must be really uncomfortable, the way I left her. Wrists and ankles bound together and to each other. Ropes lacing around her chest and arms, pinning them to each other.

Some people work out to stay flexible. Birdie isn’t one of them. Everything about the fifty-something-year-old woman screams pain. Lying on her stomach and being bent in this position must hurt. Her muscles work against the restraints. Sweat beads her forehead.

“Please,” she whispers when I don’t make a move to help her. “Please.”

“Fine, fine,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “I’ll help you.”

There’s hope in hers. She doesn’t scream.

Yet.

“Thank you. Thank you.” She jerks her chin up as much as the restraints allow. Clinging on to the last of her dignity. What’s left of it. She is naked and have I mentioned hogtied? “This must be some huge misunderstanding—”

I’m at her side. The tip of my Chucks is shoved between Birdie’s stomach and the tarp on the floor.

“Whoops.” I kick, flipping her on her side. “See? All better.”

“No.” Her frown and angry blue eyes must be every service provider’s worst nightmare. “Not better. Let me go. I’ll destroy you, Dahlia. I swear to God, by the time I’m done with you, no one will remember you ever existed.”

“Oooh, look at me.” My arms wrap around my middle again and I shiver, my teeth chattering. “I’m terrified. Fine, you got me. I’ll release you.”

Of course, I won’t.

I reach behind me to the table. Grab a basic chocolate and another basic vanilla cupcake for the basic bitch at my feet.

“Serves you right.” Pretending the ties don’t hurt her fails miserably. She winces when I crouch next to her face. “Start by untying my ankles. My back hurts. But take off the latex gloves before you touch me. I’m allergic.”

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