Page 10 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Loxley

I unpack a box, letting the metal trays clang against the alloy table. Almost everything is ready for my grand opening. I just have a few more things to put away and I’ll be good as gold.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” Addison shouts through the phone’s speaker. “It sounds like gunfire from this end!”

“Sorry,” I apologize quickly, having forgotten she was on the line. “You haven’t said anything in the last ten minutes. I forgot you were there.”

Addison is one of my long-standing friendships from back in Manhattan. We met the year after I moved back and have been inseparable since. Well, except for now. This is our first time being apart in years and my codependent friend is having withdrawals.

“Which is another reason I’m going to move out there,” she huffs. “If someone isn’t standing in front of you, they don’t seem to exist.”

I stack the trays into one of my rolling racks, my lips pursing at her judgment. I know she’s trying to make her rushed decision to move to Columbus seem like it’s totally her idea and not because she’s struggling without me, but that’s a little extreme.

“Addie,” I say, making my tone gentle. “It’s okay if you want to move here to be close to me. You can help me with the bakery. I’ve told you this.”

There’s a deep sigh over the phone. “Thank fucking god cause my boss is about to make me lose it out here. ”

She works in finance, and while I know nothing about the job, she’s beyond stressed.

Her boss is a dick who makes her work overtime every week.

She hasn’t had a decent vacation in the last three years since she started at that soul sucking company.

I’ve tried to convince her to quit, but she’s always been about the money.

It seems he’s finally pushed her over the edge.

“When are you coming? Do I need to set up a spot for you on my couch?” I ask.

“Nah, I’m looking at places now. I may end up in the same building.”

I laugh, putting my things away as I take a turn around the room. I make sure everything is where it should go before grabbing my purse and phone.

“Can you stay on the phone with me until I get to my apartment?” I plead with my friend as I turn the lights off and lock the door.

“Bitch, why didn’t you drive?” Addison asks, her voice angry.

I roll my eyes, “Because, mom, I wanted to walk. It’s just a few blocks away.”

“Uh huh,” she hums. “A few blocks away in the dead of night. You’re basically begging to be on the news.”

“This part of Columbus is quiet. There’s hardly anyone out on the streets.” As I say it, there’s a distant rumbling of a motorcycle that makes me jolt. The sound is frantic and loud as the driver speeds up the empty road ahead of me.

As the bike gets closer, I see a hulking figure behind the handlebars. Broad shoulders are covered in a black jacket, and a dark mask obscures the lower half of the face.

I quickly look away from the biker, keeping my eyes trained on the sidewalk as I absently listen to my friend lecture me over safety.

In my peripheral, I catch when the vehicle slows as it nears me. My gaze is drawn to it, shifting from the pavement. It’s a quick meeting, but piercing blue eyes stare back at me, illuminated by the bike’s lights before he passes.

I nearly drop my phone as my heart thunders. I know it isn’t possible. The chances are slim of the mystery guy being my old friend, but I can’t help but imagine.

After all these years, I still think of Atlas.

He’s never left my mind. No matter what I did or where I went, it was always like something was missing. It’s silly to still harbor the childhood crush I’ve held onto for so long, but being with Atlas was the last time I really felt… alive .

I tried to look him up over the years, searching him on the internet or going through the endless social media apps hoping to stumble across a profile. The same thoughts would plague my mind, making unease churn in my gut.

Is he married now?

Does he have kids?

Where is he?

Does he still live in Columbus?

I still haven’t told Addison that the whole reason I chose Columbus to set up my first shop was because of the lingering thought he may still lurk around this city.

She’s heard everything about the boy from my childhood, from the long hours spent in study hall to the first kiss we shared on my parent’s back porch.

He’s the whole reason I stopped drinking. Anytime I would have a little too much wine, I would end up sobbing over what could have been for us. The next morning, I would regret my actions as I observed my puffy eyes in my bathroom mirror and nursed the pounding headache I had acquired.

I never stopped looking for him. Even on my solo trip to Europe after graduating college, I would sit on the balcony of my hotel late at night, wishing he were beside me.

I’ve tortured myself for years and nearly driven myself crazy over the idea of a future we would never have.

You’re mine, okay? No matter what happens, you belong to me and I’ll be back for you.

I still remember that promise. Atlas’s declaration to be back for me never stuck, and I think I internalized it. It was a decree said in the heat of the moment and nothing more. We were just kids.

It pains me to let it go, but I promised myself that once I opened my first store, I would move past the boy who I consider my first love. It’s a lot like grieving in a sense. I have to mourn the loss of someone I was close to and will never see again.

But saying I’m going to let go and actually doing it are two different things.

“Are you even listening to me?” Addison yells, dragging me back to the present. I’m stopped outside of my apartment building, glad I didn’t keep walking while I was lost in thought.

“Yup,” I lie, stepping into the dimly lit lobby.

“Uh, huh. I’ll be there for the grand opening and I don’t think I’m going back home. I found a few apartments I can put a deposit down on now.” She says as I enter the code to the elevator.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

We say our goodbyes before I step out of the elevator and head to my unit. I stop, my eyes narrowing at the square screen next to my door. There’s a sticky note attached to it.

Enjoy the security system— Management

Mrs. Olivia put this up?

I look around the hallway, taking note that no other units seem to have the setup I do.

Maybe it’s something new she’s working on?

I frown, taking the sticky note as I read the controls. To be honest, I’m not hating the extra protection. I wanted to get another system like the one I had out in Manhattan, but have yet to worry about anything else besides my store’s grand opening.

I make a mental note to tell her thank you when I see her again before getting to work setting up my personal code. The screen flashes with instructions on how to secure the system before and after leaving my home, and once I have everything memorized, I unlock it and step into my dark home.

Everything I own is a staple of who I am. The bright colors and cute embroidered pillows are little things I’ve collected over the years that bring me joy. This apartment should feel like a home. I’ve filled it with everything I hold dear to me, yet nothing is fulfilling.

It’s comfortable enough and I keep trying to convince myself that once Sweet Haven is opened and I get into a routine with my staff, my home will eventually feel like a home, but I’m not hopeful.

I sigh, not even worrying about the lights, as I toss my bag down on my kitchen counter top and grab a bottle of water from my fridge.

I toss my head back, take a long sip, and notice something in my peripheral.

A flicker of red light—it’s quick and I think I’ve imagined it as I turn to face the baby blue cookie tins I have lined along the back corner of my countertop.

I squint, willing the light to show itself. Then, I realize how crazy I sound and shake my head.

I’m definitely sleep deprived.

Spending the last few days working late into the night by myself has the no sleep catching up to me.

I have staff, three full-time bakers and two part-time student hires who need the credits, but I choose to stay late.

Something about working overtime for myself makes me feel a whole new level of accomplishment.

I’m overjoyed for what I’ve achieved in such a short time, but there’s always that nagging feeling…

Wouldn’t this be better if I could share it with someone?

I know the answer, but don’t indulge it. I retire to my room, taking a quick shower before falling into bed and tossing and turning for most of the night. The sounds of Columbus traffic filters in through my window, but that’s not the reason I can’t sleep .

In the early morning hours, just when my eyes grow too heavy, I swear I hear a low beep echo from my living room. I write it off as my imagination before falling into a deep sleep.