Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Which, I was pretty sure, we didn’t. At least, I didn’t.
“We can call it the Queen Mother if you want,” she said, grinning wickedly as she slid on her jacket and reached for her purse. “I really hope you find a hot guy who will get on his knees and worship your Queen Mother.”
“That’s worse. That’s a lot worse,” I said, letting out a laugh.
“I will have to keep trying,” she declared, and it sounded like she meant it. I had a lot of other vaginal euphemisms in my future, I could already tell.
“You’re working today again, right? Rayna’s shift?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding, trying to ignore the little wobble in my belly at the idea of the back room full of strange men.
If the shop had customers, I was sure I would be fine.
If it didn’t, well, maybe I could busy myself with washing the outside windows. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
“Let’s order in tonight,” Vega suggested. “You’ve been working your butt off. You deserve some take-out. My treat.”
I normally wouldn’t take her up on the offer. I liked cooking. But she was right. I was kind of burning the candle at both ends. I could use a break.
“That sounds good,” I said, giving her a grateful smile as I grabbed my lunch, and started to follow her to the door.
I hadn’t heard much more from Sandra about Rayna. She was, as of the last update I got, in intensive care, but there were no details about her actual condition, why she was in it, or what the doctors were saying.
I got it.
I wasn’t family. I wasn’t even really a friend.
They didn’t owe me more than that.
But it did mean that I was working all the shifts at the shop since no one had been able to get in contact with Dennis.
His absence was worrisome, sure. I mean, especially if his investors were trying to track him down.
Though, I guess, it was better that there was someone around who had a stake in the business.
I wouldn’t pretend to understand how this sort of thing would go. If Cesare could make business decisions if the current owner was missing.
Would there need to be an investigation? A missing persons report?
My stomach felt wobbly at the idea.
But it wasn’t something I could control, so I had to learn to accept it.
Kind of like the men who charged into the shop about half an hour after I got there.
Admittedly, I rushed around as fast as possible when I got there, trying to set up the front of the store so I didn’t need to actually be in the back with them when they arrived.
So when I heard them shuffling around, I kept myself in the front with my cup of coffee and my phone in my free hand.
I felt better when I had a couple of customers, including a young guy who was really struggling to figure out what kind of arrangement to get his girlfriend for their first anniversary, so he was hemming and hawing the selections for almost a full hour.
After that, I went ahead with my plan to give the outside of the windows a thorough washing.
By the time I went back inside, the sounds from the back had died down, and I tentatively glanced in, finding everyone long gone.
I locked the back door, and was turning around to head back into the shop when something on the floor caught my eye.
Something brassy and long.
I knew what it was, even before I squatted down to get a closer look.
And there it was.
A single bullet.
A bullet.
In the back room at the flower shop.
I was the only person who’d been around. I mean, aside from Cesare. But I cleaned the shop before closing the night before. I would have swept the bullet up.
This meant that the only way it could have gotten there was from one of the guys.
I mean, objectively, I had no issue with people having personal firearms and the bullets for them. That said, this wasn’t someone’s home. This was a place of business.
And it was upsetting to think that one or more of the men who already made me uncomfortable were armed.
Not only armed, but careless enough about it that they were dropping bullets and not even realizing it.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed a paper towel, grabbed the bullet, and took it into Dennis’s office, dropping it into the top drawer.
I had no reason to worry that they might return. No one was going to come looking for a single lost bullet. Even if they realized it was missing. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t paranoid the rest of the day.
So much so that I rushed through my tasks to wrap up for the day, and made my way outside, not breathing a sigh of relief until I got into my car with the doors locked.