Page 63 of Executing Malice

He returns it and offers me his elbow, which takes me momentarily by surprise, but immediately fills me with a sprinkling of dread.

Touching him was not part of the plan. Hell, I don’t even want to but refusing him would only comfort the biker and I don’t want to comfort him when he all but let Felicity give him a lap dance in the middle of the street.

Without batting an eye, I slip my hand through the crook. The suede fabric of his coat sleeve feels soft and warm beneath my fingers. The back of my hand settles against his ribs, pinned into place with a firmness that is off putting.

I feel like a child holding the hand of a parent. Like he’s worried I might get lost in the crowd. It’s taking all my efforts not to yank free and bolt back into the bank.

Instead, I let him guide us along the flow of pedestrians in the direction of Maisie’s with the heat of an open flame licking the back of my neck.

“You have something on your car,” Jasper is saying when I pull my attention back to him. “Did you forget your bag?”

Despite my best attempts, I find my attention jumping to the jar before I glance away. “Oh, it’s fine.”

He nods slowly like he’s digesting my response before offering kindly, “Did you want to run over and grab it?”

I shake my head. “I’ll grab it later.”

If he doesn’t take it back,I muse, a bit sadly. There’s a good chance that I may have pissed him off enough that he takes his gift and leaves.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

“Are you attending the festival next weekend?”

I return my focus to the man at my side and try to forget the one I’m walking away from. “I haven’t honestly decided. Most likely.”

“My dad has been getting the trailer ready all week for the hayrides.”

He’s talking. Saying something about wanting to ask me out for coffee but not being sure. Part of me feels bad for usinghim like this. It’s not his fault my life has become a whole mess. He’s definitely not to blame for my brokenness. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The bell tinkles over Maisie’s bakery. It muffles the soft flow of conversation and the creaky wheeze of the fan spinning overhead. The blades spin the sweet scent of honey and coffee, making my already nervous stomach churn.

Don’t get me wrong. I love honey and coffee, but someone could hand me an all you can eat coupon for Mama May’s deep fried chicken and my gut would still feel off.

The anxious gnawing is distracting me from reading the sandwich menu. The board keeps fading behind my distracted thoughts.

When Jasper settles a gentle palm on my lower back to guide me forward, I nearly want to stab him. But I’m weapons free and in public. Best I can do is tug away from him and pretend I’m fascinated by the baked goods behind the glass.

“Hey, guys.” Maisie glances from me to Jasper with her pretty smile. “Here for lunch?”

Jasper nods, but glances at me to start.

I pick the first item my gaze lands on — chicken ranch on sourdough bread.

Maisie taps that into her computer and turns to Jasper who takes a million years to pick a tuna melt.

“Anything to drink?”

I don’t get a chance to answer when my attention is captured by the aggressive clamor of bells. The door swings wide to smack into the wall. It turns a few heads, but none faster than mine.

I fully expect to see my biker darkening the threshold, powerful build blocking the light as he storms over, snatches me from Jasper and...

Not biker man.

Felicity stalks in. Her strides are hurried like she’s prairie dogging a turd. I can’t see her whole face, but the glimpse I catch — stressed.

Not happy. Everything about her posture is angry and annoyed. While that gives me great pleasure, it’s ruined by every breath she takes.

Vaguely, I’m aware of Maisie and Jasper waiting for me to pick a drink, but I’m too focused on Felicity scampering into the bathroom. I watch the door clap shut behind her and a hot surge of madness falls over my vision. A sticky cling of poison that settles at the back of my throat.