Page 16 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Loxley

“Great work today, everyone!” I shout from the kitchen.

Scarlet is up front, helping Blair and Miranda finish breaking down the registers. Janette and Riley are loading the massive dishwasher with the rest of the dirty bowls and trays from the day.

Two hours ago, the whole kitchen looked like a disaster area. I’ve been scrubbing batter from the table tops since we closed at seven.

“Wonderful job,” Addie praises from her spot on the metal countertops near the doors. She eats a cupcake, kicking her dangling feet like a kid.

“And what did you do all day?” Janette quips with an amused smile.

My friend scoffs, holding her phone up. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been bringing this place business all day! Taking pictures and updating the Sweet Haven socials is a chore of its own.”

Everyone laughs, the mood is light, and I feel great. Everything went so smoothly today. Even after the random text messages…

I shake my head. I’ve made my resolve to ignore my stalker during business hours. After I file my police report tomorrow morning (since it is late) I won’t let this guy get to me. I have a shop to run, and a life to live.

One of the swing doors opens, and Miranda sticks her head in. “We’re done! Heading out, boss! ”

“Goodnight!” I call back.

Addie’s phone rings, and she hops down from the table. “Crap. Mom is calling. Is it okay if I head back to the apartment?”

“Yup,” I say, never looking up from the dried cluster of brownie batter on the table before me. “I’ll be there soon.”

Janette slams the dishwasher closed before dusting her hands and looking at Addison. “We’re all heading out. We’ll make sure she leaves.”

My head whips around to her and I frown. “I’m leaving soon.”

Riley laughs, “Sure you are. You mean to tell me, Loxley the perfectionist, isn’t going to stay late to start on tomorrow’s orders?”

I scoff, the sound unsure. “No!”

The women share a knowing glance.

“We’re locking up and I’ll call you in an hour,” Janette says sternly. “If you haven’t left, I’m coming back and forcing you from the property.”

I roll my eyes, “Sure.”

Riley secures the back door before she and Janette grab their bags. Everyone tells me goodnight before they turn off the lights in the lobby and the sounds of loud conversation filters out the front doors.

When it’s just me, I turn on my speaker, cranking the music up as I pull two giant metal bowls from a cabinet. I gather my dry ingredients onto one side of the table and set up my milk, eggs, and butter on the other.

I hum to myself, bobbing my head to the pop song blaring through the bakery as I crack eggs into one bowl. I pull some measuring cups down before scooping up the desired amount of flour for making six dozen cupcakes.

My feet are aching from the day, but my mood is so high I can’t stop myself. I feel great and nothing can kill my vibe.

I grab the bowl of wet ingredients, ready to toss them into the giant mixer, when I turn towards the back door .

The bowl falls from my hands; the ingredients splattering on the freshly pristine floor. My heart plummets straight to my ass and a whimper leaves me as my eyes widen at the figure looming in the back entrance of my store.

Heavy black combat boots, dark tactical pants, and a black leather jacket cling to the widest set of shoulders I’ve ever seen. The sleeves hide it, but I know his arms are corded with thick muscles and veins that lead to large hands covered in tattoos.

My eyes trail higher, taking in the black fabric positioned over his mouth and nose. I recognize it as a balaclava, but only because I read a book where the male lead wore one to keep his identity a secret from his paramour.

Piercing blue eyes, half-lidded and intense, stare at me. A messy mop of black hair falls over his forehead, giving him an effortlessly sexy look.

Oh, fuck me. Now is not the time and place to think my stalker is sexy. I can’t even see the bottom half of his face! Get your mind out of the gutter, Loxley!

There’s a long pause in the air, ocean eyes roaming over me in a far too sensual caress. Something about them seems so familiar to me, yet utterly unnerving. My pulse is pounding in my ears, blood rushing and my whole body feeling as if it’s buzzing and charged.

I swallow, my throat feeling thick. “Who are you?” My voice cracks, the whisper piercing through the tension in the charged air.

His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing as his hand moves to his pants pocket.

I stop breathing as I take a step back, my shoes squelching over the wet ingredients on the floor. My ass hits the metal table behind me and the man stops, lifting a thick brow as he cautiously pulls his phone out and holds it up as if to say, ‘I was only reaching for this.’

I frown, my gaze shifting from him to the device in his hands. “Are you not going to speak? ”

Slowly, he shakes his head as he points a thick finger at his phone, then at me.

I narrow my eyes before pulling my device out of my pocket and opening our message thread. I read the last three messages he sent me, my blood running cold at his threat to Chance.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask, my teeth grinding as white-hot rage sparks in me. “You think you can stalk me and threaten the people I talk to? I’m calling the police.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he looks around the kitchen patiently.

Shouldn’t he be stopping me?

My fingers stall midway to the keypad as I remember his threat.

No.

He wants me to do it.

My head darts up and his eyes crease. This fucker is smiling ! To hell with the fear. I’m raging now.

If this guy really wanted to hurt me, he’s had every chance. I still don’t understand his motives, but this is getting old.

I go to my contacts, clicking the saved number and lifting the phone to my ear. My stalker raises a brow, watching me.

“Columbus police department,” a woman on the other end answers.

“Hello, my name is Loxley Bennett, and I would like to file a report,” I answer.

My stalker’s gaze narrows before he shrugs and lumbers over to one of the metal tables. I watch him closely as he cuts off my speaker before leaning back against the counter, his tattooed hands gripping the edge as he waits for me to finish my call.

The woman on the line connects me with records and the man in my kitchen listens intently as I rattle off his description to the officer .

“He’s about six-foot-four—”

My stalker shakes his head, pointing a thumb up at the ceiling.

“Sorry, six-foot-five?” It comes across as more of a question, but I continue when my stalker nods. “Black hair, blue eyes,” my gaze darts down to the veiny hands gripping the table, “a skull tattoo on the right hand and a spider on the left.”

“And what’s his build look like, ma’am?” The officer asks.

Oh, that’s a loaded question. Is ‘sex god’ a reasonable answer? Of course, it isn’t.

“Muscular? He’s big,” I mumble.

My stalker winks, actually winks , at me! The fucking audacity!

My teeth grind as I turn away from him, feeling safer now that I’m on the phone with an officer. If he tries anything, it’ll be recorded.

“And where have you seen this man?”

“Around my apartment and at my store,” I give the officer my home and bakery address, the sounds of heavy keys being hit on the other end as the cop inputs everything into the system is loud in the silence that stretches.

“Okay, Ms. Bennett, we’ll send a unit out to patrol your areas. If you see anything else, just let us know.”

My phone vibrates in my hands as I thank the officer for his time and hang up. A new message has popped up, and I wearily eye the man leaned against my table before opening it.

My stalker 3 : We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. If you run, it’ll only make your punishment worse. The choice is yours, beautiful.

Boots scuff against the floor and my head swivels in his direction. He’s standing at his full height, hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he rolls his shoulders.

My blood pressure skyrockets as I fumble where I stand. My phone clatters to the floor and I nearly trip over myself as I scramble to the other side of the alloy table. My breath is loud and labored as I watch the predator across from me.

His eyes have darkened, taking on a hungry and fervent aura. Everything about this man screams danger, yet I can’t seem to place where I’ve seen this look before. A wave of Déjà vu hits me, but it’s overshadowed as he takes slow, deliberate steps in my direction.

My eyes flicker to the set of swing doors across the room before settling back on him. He turns his head tauntingly, as if encouraging me to make a run for it.

My body feels like it’s on fire as adrenaline shoots through my veins. My fight or flight takes over, and I bolt for the doors.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

He takes three long strides to reach me. As my hands outstretch for the exit, strong, thick arms wrap around my abdomen, pinning me to a solid chest.

I flail, my hands attempting to push his hold away as I throw my head backwards. He isn’t deterred in the slightest as he lifts me from the ground.

“LET ME GO!” I scream, my legs kicking and smacking against his shins.

“HELP! HELP!” I plead for anyone to hear my cries, but I’m met with a harsh grunt in my ear as my stalker uses a foot to push one of the empty buckets across the room.

He stops it in front of one of the many mirrors I have hung up around the store before plopping down atop it.

He turns me forcefully, his strong hands gathering my wrists behind my back as he lays me across his knees.

I look up, my cheeks turning a crimson red when I realize what he’s doing. I’m facing the mirror, wide, fear-stricken eyes staring back at me.

He’s going to make me watch.

I squirm, the mixed feelings of embarrassment, fear, and anxiety flowing through me .

“Please,” I whimper. “Take whatever you want, but let me go.” I feel the pressure of hot, heavy tears building behind my eyes.