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“Not unless we have to. The view keeps the vultures occupied.” Kim pointed at the reporters on the sidewalk.
“They make great soft armor,” Nic muttered. Kim smacked his arm, but she and Deb chuckled. “Besides, no one will attack the press. Not if they want to survive. It’s a bridge too far.”
Kim patted the arm of the chair. “But if you get overwhelmed, let me know. We can move inside the lumberyard.”
Deb shook her head. “No, let them see. Maybe it will help, but whether it does or not, I’m done hiding. If Koslov and his leash-holders want me, they’ll have to come themselves. And I’m not changing my mind, so they may as well stay away.”
Michael leaned against the lumberyard’s brick wall. Deb was so incredibly brave. But when the publicity died down, the bad guys were likely to return. Their organization looked weak, and they’d have to rectify that or the other wolves might attack.
While a mob war wasn’t good for anyone, Michael rather hoped another organization took Koslov out. It was the only way for Deb to remain safe.
Chapter 24
Deb snuggled under the blanket on Wiz’s couch, her throat sore from talking to volunteers and reporters all day. With Nic’s family still downstairs, she’d suggested they use the guest house, but Michael and Wiz said no. The couch was comfortable and Michael’s presence comforting, but a real bed would help Michael’s back. As the day had worn on, he’d struggled with the pain. Most people wouldn’t notice, but the tight expression, refusal to sit, and stiff movements told her he was suffering. Nic had spelled him, sending him to rest in the bunkhouse after lunch, but he’d been back within an hour.
Worrying about him helped her deal with inspecting the ruins of her life. Most of her bakery’s decorative items, gathered over the years, were destroyed. The customer seating and glass-fronted bakery case were toast, and the windows and doors needed replacements. Most of her equipment seemed to have survived intact, and the volunteers had done an amazing job of cleaning the mixers, racks, utensils, pans, and everything else she needed. Michael and Nic both claimed they could fix the shop and have her baking in less than a week. If she wanted to.
Her apartment had fared better. Marcus Laundry was cleaning her clothes and other home goods, and offers of furniture and other things poured in. Volunteers had swept up the broken glass, cleaned and painted her walls; once the window glass was replaced, she could move in.
But she wasn’t sure she could ever live there again.
Nor was she sure what to do next. A Marcus Bank employee brought a letter explaining her initial loan review had been completed without issue, but since she was “connected” to a criminal enterprise, they could no longer service her loan. Invoking the criminality clause in her contract gave her two weeks to pay the loan in full, transfer it to another institution or default and have a lien levied against her for the full amount. It took a lot of gall for Sharlene Murphy to send that letter when she was in bed with Koslov and his bosses and Deb was the victim, not a co-conspirator. Erin was livid.
“Deb, are you okay?” Michael’s voice was soft, and slightly slurred; probably exhaustion or the medications.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just trying to figure out what to do next.” She couldn’t imagine any bank taking the risk and begging made her shudder. But she couldn’t live with thousands of dollars of debt and no way to repay it hanging over her head either. The only thing she knew how to do was bake. But bakers didn’t make much working for others.
“Unfortunately, figuring that out isn’t going to happen tonight. You’re going to need time to process everything. Maybe some counseling, too. Tonight, try not to worry too much. Do you know how to meditate?”
That seemed like an odd question from the tough soldier. “Some. I learned some basics from YouTube.” Back when she’d first opened, anxiety had kept her awake. Desperate for sleep and without the money to see a doctor, she’d turned to the internet for answers. It wasn’t perfect, but it had helped.
“Time to use those skills. I find it’s very helpful on nights like this, when my mind won’t quit, but my body is exhausted.” He yawned.
She chuckled. “I can sympathize with that. Okay, I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Michael.”
“Of course.” He shifted and looked down at her, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams.” The couch cushions moved against her head when he plopped back down.
“Sweet dreams.” Deb concentrated on her breathing, and eventually drifted to sleep.
After a long night of intermittent sleep, Deb rolled off the couch and padded to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker and setting the ovens to heat. After everything her friends had done, the least she could do was make them something delicious. At midnight, she’d gotten up and made a pan of stuffed French toast she could bake in the morning. After that, she’d slept better.
She put the French toast in the oven, and made a couple of coffee cakes as well, one of them low-sugar and high protein. Then she put together an egg, sausage, potato and veggie casserole, and slid that into the oven to bake. In an hour, they’d have a delicious breakfast. Deb poured another cup of coffee—her third—and sat at the breakfast bar. If the metal shutters were open, she’d stare out the window, but Wiz wasn’t willing to risk it. And Deb couldn’t blame her. She scrolled through social media instead. Just like Kim had been doing late into the night, she deleted and blocked trolls, then she “loved” all the supportive comments on her multiple posts thanking everyone for their help and replied when she could.
Her first timer dinged, and she ran to turn it off, but she was too late. At the far end of the house, Michael rolled off the couch with a faint groan. She pulled the French toast and cakes out, glanced at the time, and grabbed coffee cups, cream and sugar, lining them up on the breakfast bar. Even without the oven alarm, the temporary residents of Wiz Manor would show up shortly, drawn by the delicious smell. She poured, and as expected, her friends appeared within minutes, muttering quiet greetings. Michael grabbed the first coffee, raising the cup to her in thanks. She smiled, but didn’t reply because Nic and Pete showed up, with Tom and Wiz behind them, closing the door softly to avoid waking Kim and the girls.
The second timer dinged and she pulled the casserole from the oven, putting it on the table. Then she added the rest. Plates were filled, coffee replenished, and gradually, chatter rose as everyone fully woke.
“When did you make all this, Deb? They’re delicious.” Nic lifted a bit of casserole.
Michael rubbed a hand over his face. “Way too late last night and too early this morning. And no, Deb, you didn’t keep me awake. I just wish you could sleep.”
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, bringing up the group chat, a motion copied by everyone around the table except Pete.
Geo: Fire alarm at the old lumberyard. Assessing and preparing for evac.
Koslov’s idiots needed to give up, already! Her anger was tinged with fear. She’d learned that an alarm wasn’t always what it seemed. It could be real, or triggered to flush people out, or both. But Geo’s Copperline people knew that better than she did.
Nic cursed under his breath and showed Pete the warning. Michael shoveled his remaining food into his mouth and stood, his motions jerky. He was probably in a lot of pain this morning.
