Page 12 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Loxley

Light music plays over the speaker I have on top of a baking rack as I organize the ingredients for tomorrow. Janette, Riley, and Scarlet helped me out a lot today, preparing most of the desserts for the display case in the front.

A few regulars from the surrounding areas have already RSVP’d back, assuring me they would be in attendance.

The whole firm that works under my mom will also be here, along with anyone who may have seen my multiple ads displayed across the city and on a couple of social media apps that target the people living in the designated location.

We’re expecting a sizable turn out, and it has me working late into the night to make sure everything is perfect. The women offered to stay later, but Janette and Scarlet both have a family to get home to. Riley is in college and has finals coming up, so I encouraged them to turn in early.

I still have to work on their schedules tonight.

Riley wants all afternoons, which I’m more than happy to give her.

Scarlet and Janette will help me with the morning rush while their kids are at school.

The few student hires I have will only be available once their morning classes are over.

They’ll run the registers while the two other women help me keep up with demand.

I stopped my online orders for a few weeks to give us some time to finish prepping, but they’ll be starting back up next week. I’m going to need all hands on deck, to say the least.

In time, I’m sure I’ll acquire more staff, but until business is booming, the reliable workers I have will do just fine.

I’m absently humming to myself as I shove gallon after gallon of milk and eggs into the restaurant cooler when I hear what sounds like footsteps just outside the kitchen’s swing doors.

I pause, my hands hovering over the box of recently purchased ingredients. I turn my head, eyeing the circular glass window that leads to the store’s front. It doesn’t give me a good enough view to see the whole lobby.

My heart pounds as I rise from my crouched position, leaning my head closer to the door. “Hello? We’re not open yet.” I call.

There’s light rustling before my suspicions are confirmed.

There’s someone in my bakery.

Okay, this is terrifying, but I’m the owner of this establishment. I have the authority to demand whoever is on the other side of the door leave and call the police.

How did they get in?

Shit! I left the front door open to air out the lobby for tomorrow. I curse my stupidity. I should have had Janette lock up before she left since she’s my only other key holder, but I wasn’t thinking.

I scan the kitchen, locating a metal rod to one of the bakers racks I assembled a couple of days ago propped near the swing doors. It was an extra piece in case I needed it, and I’m glad I didn’t listen to Scarlet and toss it out.

I quickly snatch it up, placing both hands on it like I’m wielding a baseball bat before I shuffle to the door. My nerves are shot and I swallow, attempting to steady my thumping heart. I suck in a deep breath, bracing myself for what waits on the other side.

I give myself a miniature pep talk before shouldering the door with all of my strength and shouting fiercely as I emerge behind the cash register .

My gaze darts around the front room, taking in my surroundings as the pole in my hands follows with every move I make.

It’s empty?

I straighten, scowling as the rod comes down to my side and I walk around the counter. There’s no one here and I feel my whole body relax as the adrenaline slowly ebbs away. I place a hand over my chest, laughing out loud in relief.

As I attempt to retreat to the kitchen, I catch sight of the welcome mat near the entrance and stop cold in my tracks.

There are massive boot prints on the floor, mud tracking across the white surface toward the bathrooms. I follow them, my hands tightening on the pole as I peer into the dark standard room.

I huff when I see nothing before following the retreating tracks that lead out of the restrooms and into the second entrance behind the counter.

Someone is in my fucking kitchen! How did they do that so quickly without me hearing them?

I’m on guard, growing tired of these games. Whoever this is, is about to spend the night in jail. I’m calling the cops regardless of their sob stories once I find them.

Let’s just hope I’m intimidating enough.

I position the rod in front of me, angling my shoulder before ramming through the doorway. I spot as the back entrance leading to the alleyway closes and race over to it. I throw it open, stepping out into the path as I whirl around in a circle, but there’s no one there.

“Oh, what the fuck!” I yell, hoping the mystery person can hear me. “Just because I didn’t see you doesn’t mean I’m not calling the cops!” I receive no answer back, but I figured I wouldn’t. Whoever was in my bakery didn’t want to be seen, but they wanted me to know they were here.

I head back inside, my anger rising as I lock the back door and head toward the lobby to do just the same, but stop when I spot something on one of the metal tables in the center of the room. The pole falls from my hands, clanging against the floor as I slowly step towards it.

Sitting in the center of the table, an enormous bouquet of two dozen yellow and red roses rests as if they belong there. The blooms are covered in shiny, shimmering sparkles like the florist dipped them in some kind of coating.

It’s breathtaking and I hesitantly lift a hand to it, confirming that there is in fact a sparkle filled finish on the flowers.

I spot the white card jutting from between the blooms, raising a shaky hand as I remove it and examine the chicken scratch writing.

And what lesson have we learned tonight? Good luck tomorrow.

This cocky son of a bitch! This has to be a prank.

Addison is supposed to be here tonight, but she doesn’t know where the bakery is, so that rules her out. Maybe one of my employees?

No, that doesn’t seem right. Their lives are fast-paced and entirely too busy to back track just to leave a bouquet. We were also together all afternoon and if they wanted to leave me flowers, they would have said something. Not to mention the massive boot prints that don’t fit anyone’s profile.

My blood runs cold at the realization that this can’t be rationalized. Whoever this is, I don’t know them. And they were inside my bakery.

I pace in front of the table, my eyes occasionally straying to the beautiful bouquet as I run through everyone I’ve met since coming back to Columbus.

The few people I’ve met were cordial, and no one seemed odd.

Most were old friends and the handful of new people I’ve introduced myself to hadn’t given me any reason to consider them as the culprit.

I haven’t even been in the city for a month. How is it possible to get a stalker that quickly ?

My phone rings and I quickly snatch it up, hitting the answer button. “Hello?”

“You answered fast,” Addison laughs, unaware that I’m currently having a mental breakdown. “I made it to your apartment—”

“If I give you the bakery’s address can you come pick me up?” I cut her off.

“Sure…” She trails. “Are you okay? You sound like you’re freaking out.”

I ignore her, rattling off the address and giving her a minute to put it in her GPS before I hang up. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling violated and unnerved. The gesture is nice, but none of this makes any sense.

I still haven’t called the police, but what would I say?

Oh, hello officer. Someone broke into the unlocked door I left wide open and left me flowers without revealing their identity?

I’m sure that would go over well.

I groan as I rub a defeated hand down my face before grabbing my bag and the black vase. As I go to pick up the flowers, I strain under the weight and nearly drop them to the floor. It feels like there are a ton of bricks in my hand instead of a flower arrangement.

They couldn’t have given me something smaller? This weighs a ton.

Now I’m agitated and violated.

I walk out of the kitchen, switching off the lights in every corner of the store before making my way to the exit and locking up for the night. As the lock clicks into place, Addison’s white SUV pulls up to the curb, the loud music thumping and muffled from the outside.

She rolls her window down, gasping in surprise at the gift in my hands. “That’s beautiful!” She shouts before lowering the song’s volume.

“How I got them isn’t,” I mumble before sliding into the cramped and cluttered passenger seat. I shift my feet through the mountain of trash near the floor, attempting to get comfortable as the term ‘passenger peasant’ whispers in my head. My friend is a lot of things, but clean is not one of them.

I heft the bouquet into the back, setting it down gently so nothing gets destroyed on the short ride to my apartment.

Then I quickly scold myself for actually liking the flowers.

“What do you mean?” Addison asks, lifting a brow.

I hand her the card from the arrangement before detailing the bone-chilling story. She listens, her golden sun-kissed skin turning a sickly pale color the more I explain.

“I’m sure it’s someone you know,” she tries to reassure, but her voice wavers, as if she can’t believe her own words. “We need to get you some security cameras.”

“Yup,” I sigh. “I’ll order them tonight once we’re settled.”

“I’m also not leaving your side until we can figure out who the fuck is breaking in to leave flowers,” she adds.

I smile, knowing she wouldn’t leave my side regardless of if someone was trying to stalk me or not.

We pull up to the complex, climbing out and I grab the flowers before leading my friend to the elevators in the lobby.

Addison rambles, giving me a good distraction as I type in the code to my security system.

I absently push the door open, laughing at something she says before I stop breathing all together.

This morning, before I had left, my kitchen was a disaster area that needed to be tackled tonight. I had stacked, used baking trays and giant dirty metal bowls littering the counter tops for as far as the eye could see.

“What’s wrong?” My friend asks, peaking around me.

My heart slams in a slow, painful rhythm. I can hear my own labored breaths as I suck air into my lungs. My eyes are wide as I turn to face the woman beside me.

“Someone cleaned my house.”