Page 126 of Roses in Summer

“Oh.” I walk the rest of the way to the island, sliding onto one of the stools and looking down at the spread he’s set up. Platters of French toast, home fries, and bacon line the counter, with a bowl of cut fruit and a carafe of orange juice beside it. “Wow,” I comment, unable to keep the awe from my tone.

“Don’t act so surprised, ciern.” He turns around, a playful smile on his face. “Cooking is quite literally my job. I know how to crisp up bacon.”

I grab a rasher of bacon and nibble on the end, surprised by the spicy-sweet flavor that erupts on my tongue. “Oh my god, that’s delicious.” I moan.

“Careful, ciern. We have plans today, and I don’t need you making those sounds and distracting me from what we need to do.”

I swallow my bite and flush, setting the bacon on my plate as I look at him. “What plans?”

“We’re going to Rafe’s. He called Grey last night and asked us all to come over.”

I nod at him, pushing from the island and moving to stand up. “Where are you going?”

“To steal a shirt and pants. You just said…” I trail off, looking at him quizzically.

“Food first.” He nods toward the island.

“Fine.” I sit back down, reaching for a piece of French toast with my fork and placing it on my plate.

“One more, Seraphina,” Lincoln comments.

I glare at him, frowning. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Always have been. Now eat.”

I roll my eyes, grateful for the momentary reprieve from the heavy thoughts that want to encroach on this moment. Focusing on my plate, I cut my food into even pieces and ask, “Do you know if Olivia is at Rafe’s?”

“I’m not sure. I know Bianca is there.” I sigh, stabbing a piece of French toast and putting it in my mouth. It’s unsurprisingly delicious, but I can’t seem to enjoy the taste. “We’ll call her as soon as we get to Rafe’s.” I nod, spearing another piece of French toast and shoving it into my mouth.

—

“You look cute in my clothes,” Lincoln comments as we walk up the front steps of Rafe’s apartment. “They’re a little big, but you still look adorable.”

“Shut up, Lincoln.” His deep chuckle reaches my ears, and I shake my head. I’m about to respond to him when a tall man appears, racing down the front steps of the building. I step to the side in a move to let him pass, but he surprises us by stopping.

I squint at his handsome face. There’s something about him that seems familiar, but it’s not until I hear his deep, unique voice that I’m able to place him. “Ms. Gregori,” he drawls, a slight accent in his deep baritone voice.

“Sergeant Maroaka.” I nod my head in greeting. I’ve met Sergeant Jack Maroaka twice, and each time, I was struck by how handsome he was—and how serious. Both interactions resulted in his scowl pulling into a sneer any time Bianca spoke. And while I’m not surprised that she evoked his ire, his extreme reaction to her was surprising.

“Did something happen? Are my sisters okay?” The worst-case scenarios run through my mind at why he could possibly be here.

He shakes his head, eyes on Lincoln as he responds, “I live in this building.”

“Oh,” I breathe out, shoulders relaxing.

“You.” He nods toward Lincoln. “You gave the tip about the black car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for that. Unfortunately, Mitch is out of town, and there is no black vehicle registered to his name, or that of his parents.”

“No shit,” Lincoln comments, the surprise evident in his tone.

“See.” I turn to him, raising my brows. “I told you it was electric or some kind of accident. Not everything is a conspiracy.”

Sergeant Maroaka clears his throat, looking away at my response, and I furrow my brows at his behavior.

“Be careful,” he says before jogging down the remainder of the stairs. My head moves to follow his descent until he disappears around the corner of the block, removed from our view.

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