“Come on, Tabitha. Ridge barely lets you out of his sight. This is our night to let loose.”
Tabitha looks to the ceiling, her eyes darting back and forth. “Yes, he probably has cameras stashed here.”
Katy rolls her eyes. “He didn’t plant cameras at Noah’s bar. Come on, Winnie. Let’s go.”
Winnie listens, but her eyes flick to an area behind the bar. “You go ahead. I’m going to a wander around and see if I can find Noah. Then I’ll dance.”
“Your loss.” Katy grabs on to my hand and then Tabitha’s, marching her way onto the small area set aside as a dance floor in front of the stage. A few people, a couple and then two groups of four, have scattered themselves across the floor and are already moving to the music. Katy, tugging on our hands, pulls us past each of them until we’re smack dab in the middle of the dance floor.
I’ve never been a great dancer, and right as I hit my rhythm the tune changes. The new song sounds a bit like the last, but more twangy. While not my normal musical taste, for a small town band, the guys play wonderfully together and it’s not long before I love the country rock they specialize in.
The song passes and Katy maintains a perfect beat while I work my hardest to pretend I know what I’m doing and not make a fool of myself. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and be the next funny YouTube sensation.
The music quiets, the lead singer stopping in front of the stage. “Okay, we have one last song for you. An original, written by our very own guitar player, JJ.”
“I need a drink,” Tabitha yells, fanning her face with her open hand. She points to the bar and makes the hitchhiker sign with her thumb pointing out and jerking in that direction.
I turn, about to follow Tabitha, but Katy grabs onto my hands. “It’s the last song. Stay.”
Tabitha weaves in between the crowd making her way to the bar, and I look at her little longingly. Soon she’ll have ice and liquid, but as sweat beads on my forehead I pick up the pace next the Katy. I do my best to follow her moves, but I’m always one beat behind.
The song ends, a slightly slower tune about a love who got away, but the singer is gonna make it one day and win back her love. It’s sad, and yet also a story of redemption. Before Katy and I leave the dance floor I quickly gaze at the guitar player wondering if he wrote it about himself. The band has roots in Pelican Bay and it’s all too perfect if he’s singing about someone from here. Is she in the room tonight? Does she know the song is about her?
The music stops and I leave the dance floor and walk to our small round top table a few feet away.
“They are really good.” Katy sits on her barstool scratching the legs across the floor.
I nod to Tabitha, catching her eye as she waits at the bar hoping she’ll take it as a sign to purchase something for me as well. The thought of standing in the line that’s quickly growing behind her and stretching along the back of the room is not a task I’m willing to undertake. “Did the band graduate with you, too?”
Katy nods. “Back then, they were a wannabe garage band. One year they entered our school talent contest and it wasn’t pleasant. They did not walk away winners.”
“Well, they’ve obviously improved.” I’ve never been one to search out bands. The only concert I’ve ever attended was Justin Bieber with my niece during my failed attempt at college. And that’s an experience I don’t wish to repeat. I couldn’t hear for two days after. But the band tonight sounded as good as the professionals. As loud too.
I lose sight of Tabitha as she inches closer to the bar, the crowd circling around her blocking her path and my line of sight. My head tips back and forth as I search the crowd, hopeful her arms are loaded up with drinks. When she finally reaches the table my shoulders slump with release. With two arms wrapped around them Tabitha carries four tall glasses, each filled with ice and a light brown colored liquid. Considering earlier tonight she said everyone should get drunk on Long Islands, for once it’s not hard to guess what she’s holding.
She sets the glasses on the table and I quickly grab one from the end. Liquid is liquid and I’ve always been a lover of vodka.
“We better sell a lot of damn doughnuts tomorrow. These babies are eight bucks a piece.” She passes a tall glass to Katy and sets one at Winnie’s empty seat.
My butt vibrates against the wooden stool and I’m forced to set down the cool drink to grab my cell. Bennett’s name lights up the screen and I swipe to answer. “What’s up?”
The bar is loud and I’m forced to release the glass and cover up my other ear to hear him better. “Anessa, small problem.” His words are calm and almost soothing although he speaks louder than normal. Something about them leaves me tense and nervous.
“Bennett, what’s wrong?” I slide off the stool and walk to the side exit hopeful it’s quieter in the dark hallway to hear him easier.
“We had our meeting with Frankie tonight, but the money is $20,000 short.”
“You’re short?” How is that possible?
Is it still in the wall?
My heart stops… I have his money.
I completely put the problem over the fact I found a few hundred thousand dollars in my bakery out of my mind for the last few days. Bennett promised me it was taken care of.
No problem he said.
All handled.
Ridge went to drop off the money and I never had to hear about it again.
He said everything was fine.
But everything is not fine.
My pulse picks up and I lean against the back wall. The cold stone does nothing to calm my nerves. My mind races thinking back to the day we found the money and all of us continued to keep piling and stacking it in different variations. It was so much money and so crazy, I forgot.
“Anessa,” he uses his calm voice. “Do you know where the money is?”
There’s silence.
And more silence.
And then I work up the courage for honesty.
“Yes.”
My hand shakes holding the phone, but the scene plays on repeat over and over and over again. Like my own mini horror version of Groundhog Day. I clearly see myself, as I look down on the scene from the morning I found the money. I scrambled pulling bills out of the wall and stacking them in front of me. There were wrapped stacks in my hands when Tabitha walked in the kitchen door. In my haste and surprise I didn’t stack them on top like the others. Like a criminal caught in the act I tossed the money in the cupboard to my side.
There’s no explanation for why I did it. It was a knee-jerk reaction and any sane person would know Tabitha would see the larger stack behind me. I didn’t even remember until right now. At the worst possible time.
I have no reason to hide the money…but I did. Until this moment I’d forgotten all about it. That cupboard I tossed the stacks into holds all my birthday cake molds. Those cute metal pans you get from Wilton that can be decorated into any of the popular cartoon characters. No one has placed a birthday cake order in the last few weeks. I haven’t had a reason to open the cupboard.
“Sweetheart,” if possible his voice is even calmer now and I struggle to hear it over the noises coming from the main room. “I’m going to need you to give me the money.”
A hand covers my mouth, stifling the first panicked sob until I answer. “Of course. I swear, Bennett. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Anessa, I just need the money.” This time he’s louder, not hard but not as giving either.
“It’s at the bakery,” I whisper the words into the phone, hopeful he hears them because I’m not sure I’ll be able to say them again before I break down and cry.
What will I do if Bennett thinks I hid the money on purpose? I choke on a breath making it hard to take a second one as the scene continues playing on repeat. Me tossing the money, me closing the cupboard door, and then me turning to Tabitha. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
There’s no other explanation. Just me taking a good thing and to
ssing it out the window. I’ve gotten myself in a real mess and from the anger leaching out from Bennett’s voice I’ve probably lost him in the process.
It wasn’t time to admit it to anyone yet, but my thoughts have been filled with Bennett fantasies. And not just ones where his shirt is off. Okay, most of them were, but not the way Katy would suspect. Bennett mowing our lawn… shirtless. Bennett changing a lightbulb… shirtless.
There were also shirt-wearing dreams. Walking Liam to his first day of school — if that’s a memory Bennett would let me be a part of. Spending Christmas together. Maybe a vacation.
All those hopes and wishes could be dashed now. Who knows how Bennett will react to my colossal fuck up. Will he dump me? Yell? Never talk to me again? All options sound horrible, but I’d rather there be yelling than he give up on me completely.
“Zanetti has given us an hour. I’m on my way to the bakery now. Where is it?”
I sniffle and wipe away the tear running down my cheek trying to get it together. “The big cupboard under the island. Tabitha scared me when she walked in and I got nervous and threw the money in there. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, Bennett. I would have told you. I didn’t mean to lie. I forgot.” I ramble on not sure when to stop explaining and start apologizing.
“You forgot you threw twenty thousand dollars in the bottom of a cupboard?”
He’s mad. I’m not sure there’s any way to make him understand the thoughts in my mind at the time. I’m not sure I knew what was going on in my mind at the time. Not fully. What would anyone do in that situation?
“Bennett, I’m so sorry. I’ll come to the bakery right now and meet you.”
“No,” his words stop the progress I’d made toward the exit door. “Frankie is pissed and on the warpath. You are safer at the club. We have a guy on you outside.”
My mouth opens, the question about what he means when he says “a guy outside” on the tip of my tongue. Before I have the chance to ask, my scream pierces the air in the little hallway. It’s short and more of a squeak, cutting off once I get a look at what scared me.
“Don’t move, princess.” A man, at least six inches taller than me looms over my body, backing me up against the wall. I have no idea how he entered the little hallway I’ve been talking to Bennett in, but there’s no mistaking the gun he’s pressed to my forehead. The metal warms as it dents my skin.
“Anessa!” Bennett yells into the phone. I’m too scared to respond with more than a small whine.
The tall man takes the phone from my hand and I do nothing to stop him. The plastic covered piece of metal slips away easily as I try my hardest not to move, allowing only my chest to heave up and down.
The man puts the phone to his ear, his smile stretching when he hears whatever Bennett yells on the other end.
“Tell Ridge not to worry about the money. I’m sure Mr. Zanetti will be more than pleased when I bring him this sweet little morsel.” His eyes rake me from top to bottom as his smile turns into something more resembling a sneer. His body presses against mine driving me further into the wall to keep my body away from his.
But it’s no use. I have nowhere to go.
There are muffled sounds coming from the phone, but none of it audible even though I turned up the volume to hear Bennett over the rumbling of the crowd.
My attacker turns his head to the phone, swipes a thumb across the screen, and ends the call. He drops the phone. It bounces on the tile floor and his now empty hand runs along my jawline. I attempt to flatten myself against the wall, my head scraping against the exposed brick, my hair pulling as I twist and turn to get away from him. He brings his hand back snapping it forward to slap my cheek. The force knocks my head against the wall, a brick scraping the skin above my eye.
“Let’s you and I get to know each other a little better, huh, sweetheart?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
His hand fumbles on my shirt collar, pulling the material out of the way. I bat at him, hitting it with mine as hard as possible.
“Knock it off.” With one tug the man sticks his hand in my shirt and pushes a piece of paper in my bra, the thick corner poking my skin. “Mr. Z wants you to have his card.”
A series of rapid pops comes from the other room. Like someone lit off a string of firecrackers.
But it’s not fireworks.
It’s gunfire.
I scream, this one loud and heartfelt. Forgetting about the guy and the gun, I drop to the floor and cover my neck like they taught us during a tornado drill in elementary school. It’s not going to save me from gunfire, but it’s the only plan I have.
The guy trying to kidnap me doesn’t shoot, but instead spits out a curse. “Dumbasses were supposed to go unnoticed.”
His eyes scan back and forth, examining the area between the two doors in the hallway. One leads back to the main room and the other down a flight of stairs.
“You’re not worth it.” He turns, flinging open the door, and escapes down the steps of the unlabeled exit.
The gunfire stops, or at least it’s no longer noticeable over the screams from the panic happening in the club. I’m frozen in this poorly lit hallway. If I run down the stairs, I’m chasing after a guy who held a gun to my head. If I go back into the club, I’m running toward gunfire. Right now my best option is to do nothing.
An alarm blares from above adding more noise. Both doors open simultaneously. From my left — with guns drawn — race in a stream of brown-uniformed officers. They’re met head-on from the right with a steady flow of concertgoers dressed in Maine’s version of nightclub wear. Stuck between the two I flatten my body to the brick wall. A few officers stop to guide people down the steps while the others continue forward into the room.
The lights come up, bathing the small hallway in light. The last of the officers reaches the top of the stairs and the people on the other side dwindle to a trickle.
A tall officer not wearing a brown uniform but distinguishable as law enforcement by the large, thick, gold badge hanging from his neck stops. With a hand on my shoulder he asks, “Are you okay?”
I nod, unable to answer fully.
“You’re Anessa, right?”
I nod again. My eyes questioning how the hell he knows who I am.
“It’s a small town,” he answers, his hazel-colored eyes bright even as he prepares to enter a crime scene. “Do you think tomorrow you’ll have more blueberry muffins?”
I nod, thinking of the two trays I stuck in our cooler before closing up the shop tonight. The sound that comes out of my mouth is horrible. A cross between a laugh over the ridiculousness of him asking me about blueberry muffins and the scariness of a guy threatening me with a gun less than two minutes before. It’s one of those noises that in the future if anyone asks me about I’ll deny.
A blond cop leans his head into the hallway. “All clear!”
“I’m Law Anderson, a detective with the county. Why don’t you come in with me?” He pushes on my shoulder not giving me much room to disagree as we walk into the main area of the club. Katy and Tabitha run up, both of them reaching out and touching me before Katy practically launches herself, squeezing me into a tight hug.
“We were so worried,” Katy says squeezing again.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Tabitha says taking a step back.
Yes, because I totally almost got kidnapped on purpose. I’m still speechless.
Law cocks his head. “Katy, why are you always around when something bad happens?”
Katy sighs. “I don’t know. Bad luck?”
“I need to get statements from everyone, so why don’t you ladies take a seat at a table. The area is safe now. No one leaves.” The four of us, with Katy leading the way, resume our original positions. Law takes the place of Winnie, who I haven’t seen. I search the room but she’s nowhere near.
“Winnie was in the back with Noah. She’s safe.”
I release a breath and flick a straw wrapper lying on the table. It bounc
es twice and then skidders off the side.
“Well, let’s not all fight to tell me what happened.” Law pulls out a notebook from his breast pocket. “Katy, since you have so much experience with this, why don’t you go first?”
Katy flashes him an annoyed expression all while sitting up taller in her chair. “First, JJ’s Band was on stage and I have to say they were pretty great. Much better than that time they tried to play in the school talent contest. Remember that?”
“I need you to focus, Katy.” Law jabs the tip of his pen into the table.
“Fine,” she draws out the word reminding me of when Liam was forced to eat more vegetables at dinner the other night.
“The bands were switching. We were sitting here having a drink and talking.” Law raises an eyebrow at her. “Damn it, Law, it’s not like I brought masked gunmen in here.”
“So they were wearing masks?” He scribbles in his notepad.
“No,” Katy says completely exacerbated.
He scratches out whatever he wrote. “Just tell me what happened, Katy. We don’t need all the theatrics.”
“Bands. Drinks. Talking. Anessa phone call. Guns. Is that succinct enough for you?” With all the swagger in her possession Katy reaches down and snatches up a drink from the table. She sips up the remaining liquid from the straw, never taking her eyes off Law, before slamming it back down.
It’s a mighty display so I don’t have the heart to tell her it was someone else’s drink.
“Like Katy said,” Tabitha picks up with the real story, “we were having a drink between bands when Anessa took a phone call and went to the hallway. Next thing we know three guys storm in here pointing guns every which way. They said they were looking for the bakery girls.”
“What did you do?” Law scribbles this in his notepad again, nodding his head at her story.
“We hid,” Katy answers. “What do you think? We raised our hands and said here we are?”
She’s always a little bit mouthy, but this is a tad much even for Katy. She sounds as if she’s on her last straw. It’s possible she’s figured out it wasn’t her drink she made her big production from.
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