Page 254 of Hate Mates

The Debt by Helen Hardt

Warning

The Debtis a romantic short story with a happy ending. However, it includes violence and gunfire on the page.Readers who may be sensitive to these elements, please take note.

Chapter One

RACHEL

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Bessie asks once more.

I draw in a deep breath, calming my nerves.

Or at least I try to.

Bessie means well. She was Mom’s best friend. She helps at the bakery twice a week and won’t take any compensation from me, which has been a godsend lately.

I’m so far in the red, it’s like seeing everything through blood.

And I may be seeing my own blood later this evening.

I had to let Sam and Carla go three months ago, and since then, I’ve been scrounging and scraping to save every penny I can.

Bessie thinks I’m staying late tonight to work on the books.

In truth, I’m staying because someone is coming.

Someone is coming to extract a payment from me.

A payment I don’t have.

The bell on the door clangs as Bessie turns the sign from “open” to “closed” and then leaves.

Alone.

I’m alone.

I draw in another breath, willing my heart to stop stampeding against my chest.

Bessie has tried to tell me that the downfall of the bakery isn’t my fault. That the economy—and the big-box supermarket with its own bakery that opened up six months after Mom died and offers baked goods for half of what I can offer them for—is to blame.

ButBreads and Cakes and Tarts, Oh Mywas Mom’s dream. She was a master baker, and she taught me everything she knew. In fact, before she died, she admitted my cakes were even better than hers. She still had the edge with breads and tarts, though mine are pretty damned good.

I look over at the four-layer red velvet cake with cream cheese and pecan icing that I finished earlier.

When Malcolm comes, he’s not going to want the cake. He’s going to want his fifty thousand dollars. He’s going to want it in cash, with interest.

I slide my gaze over to the black pouch lying underneath the cash register. Inside is thirty grand in cash. A little over half of what I owe, but none of the interest.

It’s all I could come up with.

And my deadline is midnight tonight.

If I don’t deliver it by then, I can expect a visit from Malcolm. Or, more likely, his muscle.

They wouldn’t hurt a woman, would they?

No one knows about the loan I took out.

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