Page 77 of No Mistakes
“Yousureyou want to do this?” His voice is low, almost quiet enough that I could pretend not to hear him.
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “Of course I’m sure. Why?”
He doesn’t answer straight away, just studies me with that unreadable expression of his, but there’s no hiding the edge of worry in his eyes. “Because it’s not just walking into a bakery. If someone recognises you somehow, if word gets back…” He runs a palm over his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I just don’t want you walking into something we can’t pull you out of fast enough.”
The concern in his voice hits deeper than I expect. It’s tempting to let it sink in, to give him the reassurance he wants, but I’m not about to back down.
“I’ll be fine, Axel. I know what I’m doing.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him, close enough that the faint smell of coffee clings to his breath. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry.”
For a second, I can’t look away. His gaze softens, like he’s letting a crack show in that armour he always wears. Then his hand slips from my wrist, slow and reluctant as his fingers brush against mine.
“Just… be safe.”
I give him the faintest smile, more for him than for me, before rising on my toes, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Always am.”
But the way his eyes linger on me as I finally turn away tells me he’s not convinced. I feel the burn of his gaze on my back as I step out onto the porch. The cold morning air biting at my skin, pulling me the rest of the way out of whatever spell he had me in.
I spot Mandy leaning against the hood of the SUV, her hair swaying in the breeze, arms folded tight against the chill. She shoots me a look as I approach, the kind that says she’s ready for this, maybe even a little too ready.
Gunnar’s in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down, sunglasses on even though the sun’s barely there, hidden behind the clouds.
He flicks his eyes from me to Mandy. “You girls ready?” he asks, voice casual but edged with that alertness he never turns off.
Mandy grins, opening the door leading to the backseat. “Born ready.”
I pull open the passenger door and climb in, glancing over my shoulder. Axel’s now standing on the porch, hands shoved into his pockets, watching us as Gunnar starts driving.
I tell myself I don’t care. I tell myself it’s just his way of being in control. But the truth is, I can still hear his voice in my head.
Just… be safe.
And I hate how much I want to come back just so I can see the relief in his face.
We’ve got the perfect vantage point from the SUV as Gunnar kills the engine. I lean forward, peering past him to look at that bakery that is currently wedged between a florist and a hardware store, its big front window glowing against the grey morning.
“Remember,” Gunnar says, his gaze sweeping the street like he’s plotting a security grid. “You’re just two friends getting coffee. We’re using this opportunity to plant the seed and get Chicago talking about a mystery drop.”
From the back seat, Mandy leans between us with a smirk. “We’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been shaving, big guy.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, adjusting my coat. “We know the drill. Casual, natural, but loud enough for the right ears.”
Through the glass, I scan the bakery. Warm lights seep through the steam on the glass, no doubt from the ovens that are currently making fresh bread. I spot a few workers moving behind the counter, a row of bread stacked behind them. Carter showed us a photo of Benny before we left, thick build, square jaw, slicked back hair, which means we won’t have to guess once we’re inside.
“You ready?” I ask Mandy.
“Ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together.
We step out into the cold, the wind biting through my coat immediately. I instantly regret not changing into jeans like Mandy this morning, my legs already stinging with every step I take. We wait for a gap in the traffic, crossing in a small jog to the other side.
The bell above the bakery door chimes as we step inside. Warmth rushes over me, along with a mixture of scents. I inhale sharply, smelling the notes of cinnamon, yeast, butter… and coffee.
The woman at the counter greets us with a bright smile. “Mornin’, ladies. What’ll it be?”
I lean against the counter. “Two lattes to go, please. And two lemon muffins.”
Mandy shoots me a quick side glance that sayswe didn’t come here for muffins.I ignore it, watching the woman as she bags two golden, sugar-dusted muffins before setting them on the counter.
