Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Your boss has money there. A lot of fucking money there. And you’re gonna get it for me.”
“I don’t have access to the safe,” I said. “I wouldn’t even know how to try to get the code for it.”
I didn’t know a lot about safes. Every job I’d ever worked had them, of course. You always needed access to more cash and coins to fill the register when it got too full of large bills, making it impossible to make change.
But on the off-chance that I was working alone at night when I ran out of the proper change, I would need to call my boss to come in and go into the safe for me. I’d never had direct contact with one before.
I knew where Rico’s was, of course, now that he’d moved it from under the display case and into his office. It was tucked under the desk.
But it was kind of… small.
I mean, those things had thick walls to make them fire safe. So the space inside couldn’t fit more than maybe, I don’t know, fifty grand?
I guess, though, fifty grand was a lot of money.
It would be life-changing money to me for sure.
Who was to say it wasn’t the same for this guy.
He’d been willing to rob a store just for the couple grand he got out of the cash drawer, after all.
“There’s not that much money in there, I don’t think,” I said, feeling like I needed to forewarn him, in case he was thinking this would be some half a million dollar score.
“I’m not talking about the safe,” he said. “This is a long-term plan. Little bits over time.”
“I can’t do it,” I said, stomach twisting at the idea of betraying Rico like that.
No, it wasn’t like he was my best friend or boyfriend or anything like that. But the man had been nothing but good to me. And, well, there’d been that whole thing after he’d taken me to dinner…
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I’m not doing it,” I said, voice fierce, ready to jump up off of the couch and rush him.
“Yes,” another voice said, making my stomach drop out, “you are.”
I was afraid to turn around, to confirm with my eyes what I knew with my ears.
Because I knew that voice.
I knew who it belonged to.
But this couldn’t be happening.
He was dead.
I’d killed him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kick
I’d met Kyle the first week I was working an overnight shift at a little coffee shop. I was young and nervous about being all alone, save for the guy in the back who was prepping the pastries for the next day. But he would be no help in an emergency since he was both stoned out of his mind and listening to music through his headphones so loudly that I could hear the death metal screams from several feet away.
But, damn it, I was a strong, independent woman. I could take care of myself.
And the counter was probably too high for anyone to actually, you know, jump over.
Still, it was nerve-racking.
So I busied myself by wiping down every single surface behind the counter and restocking the beans, filters, and hot chocolate machine to help the time pass and keep my mind from going off in too many directions.
There was no chime on the door. I had no idea I wasn’t alone as I leaned over the massive notebook that we kept behind the counter to do a pastry inventory, so the manager could decide the batch bake list for the next day.
I turned as I noted down that there were ten French crullers left.
Then there a man appeared.
A shriek escaped me as my whole body jumped, making the notebook fall from my hands, landing near my feet with a loud smacking sound.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he’d said, head tipped to the side as a little smile tugged at his lips.
Looking back over the years, I could see how—even in that first interaction—he enjoyed my discomfort.
At the time, though, all I seemed to register was how handsome he was.
He was six-two and fit in a way that wasn’t obnoxious or overly intimidating. His brown hair was a little long, curling toward the collar of his shirt. And he had these captivating green eyes that I found it hard to look away from.
“You dropped your notebook,” he’d reminded me, that smile curving a little higher. But not touching his eyes. I would learn, eventually, that no smile ever did.
“Oh, right,” I’d said, shaking my head at myself as I ducked down to grab it and the pen that had wedged itself under the counter.
He didn’t apologize.
I never realized that in the moment either.
I was too busy feeling embarrassed that I’d overreacted to a customer.
“In my defense, no one has been in here in hours,” I’d told him as I set the notebook back under the counter. “What can I get you?”