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A familiar voice cuts through the din, making every hair on my arms stand on end. “Well, look what we have here.”
I know that voice. I know it all too well.
I look up, and there he is—Blake.
His presence sends a chill down my spine, even in this stifling bakery.
He flashes me a smile, but it’s anything but friendly.
It’s the kind of smile a predator gives its prey.
“Blake,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell do you want?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Just some alone time with you,” he says, eyes scanning the shop.
His fingers reach for the lock on the door, and my heart skips a beat.
“Shit,” I breathe, fumbling for my phone.
I text the MC group chat as fast as I can: “911 - Tart.”
My fingers tremble, and I pray they get here in time. Blake is unpredictable and that makes him much more dangerous.
“Now, where were we?” Blake turns back around, eyes dark and menacing.
He steps closer, and I can feel his anger radiating off him like heat from an open flame.
“Blake, it would be best if you leave now. Trust me and get the fuck out of here,” I command, trying to sound braver than I feel. But he doesn’t budge.
“Not until we’ve worked some things out,” he sneers, taking another step forward.
My pulse races. This isn’t good. Not good at all.
“Leave, Blake. Now.” I try to sound firm, but my voice wavers.
I know he’s pissed—probably still sore about Bama beating him in public. But standing up to him feels like trying to stop a freight train with a paper wall.
“No, not until we’ve worked some things out,” he growls, closing the distance between us.
His anger radiates off him, making the small shop feel even more claustrophobic.
“I won’t say it again. Get out!” I say, my voice rising.
“Guess you didn’t learn your lesson, huh?” His voice is low, dripping with menace.
“Stay away from me,” I manage to choke out, trying to keep my voice steady. But it’s useless. He can smell fear.
“Or what?” he taunts, stepping closer. “Your knight in shining leather gonna save you?”
I swallow hard, but my throat’s gone dry. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as he moves toward me.
I glance toward the kitchen door, calculating my chances. Not great, but it’s all I’ve got.
Out of nowhere he stops moving and I feel like things are going to change. But, my momentary peace doesn’t last for long.
Instead, he lunges at me, and I bolt toward the kitchen door.
My pulse pounds in my ears. Almost there. Almost?—
