Page 14 of Covert Affections (Shadow Agents/PSI-Ops #5)
Chapter Thirteen
Lindy
Lindy grabbed a loaf of bread on the way to the checkout and got in line, chuckling slightly to herself at just how crazy her stop at the grocery store had been so far.
It had never been so eventful before. Bitchy Grape Lady was at the customer service desk, dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, as she lifted her arms, arguing with the woman working there.
“I already told you that I didn’t spray the water everywhere on purpose!” shouted Bitchy Grape Lady. “It just happened.”
Customer Service Woman lifted a brow. “It’s never happened to me before.”
“I’m going to sue,” Bitchy Grape Lady returned.
“Let me get this straight, you decided to shake up seltzer water and then spray it everywhere, and you want to sue us?” countered Customer Service Lady.
Lindy couldn’t help but chuckle. The act drew the attention of the person ahead of her in line for the register. A man in his mid to late thirties.
“Hey there,” the man said, smelling heavily of cigarette smoke and faintly of something sickly sweet—something that Lindy was fairly sure was supposed to smell like pine. A huge ugly scar covered the right side of his face. He wore an eye patch over his right eye.
Lindy pressed a fake smile to her face for the briefest of seconds and nodded politely. Her gut told her to put distance between herself and the man quickly, yet years of being told a woman had to be polite to strangers was ingrained in her.
The store's lighting caught the silver strands of hair at his temples, a stark contrast to the otherwise dark hair.
He ran a hand over his thick, dark, wiry mustache—the kind that seemed perpetually unkempt no matter how often he stroked it.
The gesture was familiar like he'd done it thousands of times before, an unconscious habit that reminded her of an animal marking its territory.
She wondered how it was the man could eat or drink anything without hair getting in it, seeing as how out of control the mustache was.
Gross.
His mustache sprung back up in various spots as if he’d never touched it.
He squared his shoulders, somehow managing to appear even bigger like a predator sizing up its prey.
As the man before her grinned, showing off his yellow-stained teeth, Lindy took the smallest of steps back.
There was something disturbing about the way he carried himself.
A certain overconfidence that she was sure was by design to make her feel less than and to make him seem to be the one in control.
Unease crawled up her spine as tension settled in her chest. The feeling brought with it the need to put distance between herself and the man in front of her.
He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening quickly before narrowing on her as he looked her over from head to toe— slowly . “Are you my Little Sweet Thing? You smell familiar—good enough to eat.”
Little sweet thing?
The phrase left the hair on the back of her neck rising.
Her mind filled quickly with fragments of the nightmares she’d had since she was little.
Ones filled with men in lab coats and painful tests.
Of men wearing all black who were armed.
Most of whom were evil to the core, though a few had been kind.
She had broken memories from her nightmares of one of the men in black who wasn’t kind calling her that—Little Sweet Thing. The urge to recoil and guard her head with her arms nearly left her screaming and doing as much in the middle of the store.
It took everything that Lindy had to remain in place and not run.
The lessons her aunt had taught her played on repeat in her mind.
She didn’t feel like acting like a lady, smiling pretty, and engaging the man in conversation.
Every fiber of her said to run and put distance between herself and the man.
The edges of his mouth tugged upward. “It can’t be.”
“Can’t be what?” she managed, her voice shaky.
“How old are you?” he demanded. His breath smelled like beer and cigarettes.
That, combined with what she could only guess was body odor and something wild—almost like a wet dog—left her fighting to keep from covering her nose and running away.
There was something predatory about him that went beyond simple creepiness.
There weren’t any other registers open, and Lindy had already put off picking up milk, eggs, and bread longer than she should have. She couldn’t do it again. Her aunt needed a decent meal. Scrambled eggs, toast, and milk wasn’t awesome, but it was better than nothing.
Squaring her shoulders, Lindy tried to will away the impulse that was telling her that the man before her was a danger.
Her aunt would have said she was overreacting.
That she was letting her imagination run wild.
It was broad daylight, and she was in a public space. There was nothing to worry about.
Right?
“Well, have we?” the man asked, and the expression on his face said he’d been talking to her, but she’d not heard him.
She didn’t respond.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice deepening.
She swallowed hard. “Have we what?”
“Met before?” he supplied.
She nearly gagged at his smell. “No.”
“You sure about that, Little Sweet Thing?” he asked.
Lindy froze, unable to respond, his chosen pet name for her making her skin crawl.
The cashier returned to the register with a carton of cigarettes in his hand, his presence cutting through the tension. He rang the man up, not bothering with small talk.
Cigarette Man licked his lower lip, his gaze wandering over her slowly, making her feel icky.
The cashier repeated Cigarette Man’s total.
“Highway fucking robbery,” spat Cigarette Man as he shoved money at the cashier. “You could at least buy me dinner first for that price, buddy.”
The cashier remained stoic as if he didn’t hear Cigarette Man or didn’t find the man funny.
“Bet I could get something better than these for far less,” Cigarette Man said, his gaze shifting his weight closer until his shoulder nearly touched hers. “Isn't that right, Little Sweet Thing?”
Every alarm bell in her body went off like a five-alarm fire. She stood rooted in place, fear keeping her from running.
The cashier rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.
Cigarette Man got his change and receipt but didn’t leave the register. He stayed where he was, watching as Lindy set the milk and bread on the conveyor belt, her hands trembling, the urge to flee still great.
“Excuse me,” she said, hoping he’d move as she stepped toward the cashier area.
The man didn’t budge, leaving Lindy’s body pushing by his.
He sucked in a big breath, and for a second, she thought he’d lifted the ends of her long dark hair and whispered something about honey and melons.
A shudder raced through her as she turned partially, fully expecting to find him holding a fistful of her hair. He wasn’t. His hands were by his side. She faced the cashier quickly, her eyes wide.
The cashier either didn’t notice the way the man was being with her or didn’t care. Maybe he thought they were together.
“I’m not with him,” she blurted.
The cashier glanced at her briefly before shrugging and ringing up her things. He said the total, and Cigarette Man tried to hand him cash for the items. It didn’t matter how tight money was at home, Lindy wasn’t going to accept anything from the creepy guy.
“No,” she said, touching his arm enough to block him from giving the cashier the cash.
Cigarette Man crowded against her, putting his face near her ear. “I don’t mind, sweetness .”
She tensed before jerking slightly, moving her head away from his. He didn’t take the hint. If anything, it seemed to encourage him more. Finally, she twisted to look up at him, the feeling in her chest screaming at her to run. “I’m good. Thank you.”
His dark gaze slid over her again, and he nodded, walking away and stealing glances back at her before he exited the store.
Relieved to be done with him, Lindy paid for the items and went for the doors.
She hesitated at the exit, glancing out at the parking lot to be certain that Cigarette Man wasn’t there waiting for her.
When she didn’t see him, she stepped outside and quickly made her way toward the end of the building so that she could take the shortcut home.
It meant going behind the grocery store to a small path in the woods that dumped out not far from her house.
She smelled cigarette smoke as she stepped around the back of the grocery store.
She came to a grinding halt to find Cigarette Man there.
He stepped away from the back of the building and managed to plant himself in a spot that left him corralling her with ease.
She was caught like a rabbit between the building and the dumpsters.
There was matted-down cardboard there that had clearly been rained on before, and pieces of broken glass.
“I don’t like it when girls play hard to get,” he spat. He advanced on her while she retreated, her heart hammering in her chest.
She backed up more.
“Especially not when I know they want me,” he supplied, clenching his fists at his sides.
“I don’t want you,” she said quickly, shaking her head. He was the absolute last person she’d ever want.
His brows drew together. “Liar. I saw the way you were looking at me in there. And when you touched my arm, I felt it.”
“Felt what?” she shot back, positive the man had lost his mind.
“What you are,” he said. “I can smell it all over you.”
“Leave me alone,” she returned fast before trying to dart away from him.
“I can’t believe you’re here, of all places,” he said, slinking toward her more. “I’d recognize that smell anywhere, Little Sweet Thing. All grown up now?” His lips curved upward in a sinister smile. “Mostly.”