Chapter Two
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Drea said, shielding her eyes, the flashing blue and red lights of the two police cars blindingly bright. Threats be damned. She was safer with the police on her side than no one.
And if they were watching her. Well. Screw them!
The officers drew their weapons, talking hurriedly to her.
“I’m Officer Fletcher. Is the intruder still here, ma’am?” A young police officer walked toward her, his gun pointed toward the ground. The other officers held the same position.
She shook her head. “I locked the back door when they left. Ran. Whatever.”
Officer Fletcher sent the second unit around the building, presumably to check out the rear of the store. He led Drea away from the café.
“Please stay here with Officer Shelton. We need you to stay out here while we take a look inside.”
Of course,” she replied.
“No power?”
Drea shook her head.
Fletcher raised his gun and lined up a small flashlight with the sight.
He and his partner entered the café. Drea stood shielded by a police car and watched through the window as they inspected the main area before they passed through the salon-style doors toward the bathrooms, kitchen, small office, and staff locker room.
Coffee. Wouldn’t the officers want coffee?
And pastries. Or was that a stereotype? Wait.
There was no power. No amount of wishing could make an espresso machine work without it, and the way her hands were shaking, she’d end up scalding herself, even if it could.
And talking to herself like a crazy lady was not helping.
Minutes ticked by. Time dragged. The sickening flip of her stomach had evened out. She wondered if she was safe out on the street and inched nervously closer to the café.
“All clear.” Fletcher said as they returned from their search. “This is Officer Tyler. We can go back inside if you like.”
Cookies she could do. She followed the counter until she stood behind it, facing the outline of the two officers. José’s famous homemade chocolate chip cookies were calling to her. Actually, a double shot of Jack was calling to her, but there wasn’t any of that on the premises.
Another car pulled up outside the café. “It’s Detective Carter,” Tyler announced.
Fletcher and Tyler left the building and spent several minutes talking to the detective before returning. Drea used the time to set up some food, napkins, and bottles of water.
“Please, Ms. Caron, take a seat.” Fletcher indicated a spot closer to the window, where a small amount of light was being provided by the streetlights. “This is Detective Carter.”
“Andrea,” she said, looking at Detective Carter. “Please, call me Drea.” The container of cookies opened with a pop. “Help yourself to cookies. No charge. It’s on me.”
“Sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances, Drea,” Carter said, shaking her hand. “Do you have surveillance cameras?”
Drea took a seat. “Yes. But they cut the lights before they came in. I assumed they cut the power.”
Carter looked toward one of his colleagues. “Tyler?”
“On it. I’ll call the power company, see if they can send someone out as soon as possible.”
“Drea!” José hustled through the door, his hair sticking up in a thousand directions, his jeans a curious combination with the rumpled pajama top he was wearing.
Because the café opened at seven, José liked to do the early shift.
He started baking at four thirty and was always in bed by eight. “Are you okay?”
“Sir. Wait. You can’t just march in here.”
“Get your hands off me. That girl is the closest thing I have to a daughter.” José brushed the officer’s arm away and rushed to Drea.
José hugged her then stood back slightly, still holding both her arms. “Seriously. Are you okay?”
“The cash. I didn’t check the register, José.
” The drawer didn’t look open, but that didn’t mean the money was still inside.
And the day had been crazy busy, so a lot of money could be gone.
“What if they took the cash?” She made a move to go look, but José stopped her.
She grabbed hold of his hand, fighting the tears that threatened to reveal just how terrified she had been, and in truth still was.
“You think I care about the float, Drea? You foolish little thing. I don’t care as long as you’re okay.”
José wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and Drea let the comfort he was offering seep into her frozen veins. He was the only man she could rely on in her life. She loved him like a father. If he hadn’t given her a job, both she and her mom would have been a whole load of screwed.
“Sir, are you the owner?” Carter asked.
“Yes. My family has owned the property for decades.”
José sat next to Drea.
“Can you walk us through what happened, Drea?” Detective Carter asked.
“I was getting ready to close up. Marco had just left, so there was only me and the woman here.”
Drea took her time and explained step by painful step to the officers.
“So you didn’t actually see the woman get taken?”
“No.” Drea hated that she hadn’t. “I recognized the outline of her as she ran by, and a larger person I assumed was a man, in pursuit. The rear exit is a straight line from the swing doors, and the sign is illuminated, so I guess she saw where she was heading. It was very dark.”
“Did you see either of them again after that?” Carter jotted another note in his book.
Drea shook her head. “Neither of them came back into the café.”
“Okay. We’re going to get a crew in here to have a more detailed look around. Bag up the woman’s coffee cup. Can one of you wait for the power company to arrive?”
“I’ll stay, Drea. You go home and get some rest.”
After taking all of Drea’s contact information, a police officer walked Drea through the store to her car at the back.
She turned the key in the ignition, the car coughing up gas before choking. “Come on,” she said, casting a glance to the officer on the curb, waiting for her to leave. She tried again. Thankfully the car started this time.
Home may be a pile of crap, but it felt like the safest place to be.
* * *
Cujo waited in line and watched as Drea repeatedly glanced toward the corner table at the back of the store. A young family was devouring an afternoon treat of pastries, the little boy covered in icing. Drea was usually very focused, and Cujo wondered what had her so distracted.
Even this late in the evening, the café was bustling with people.
Saturdays were crazy in Miami. Lots of weekender tourists.
Second Circle had been busy when he’d left.
He’d thought about sticking around, but he had opened up and already put in a solid ten hours.
As he approached the front of the line, Drea looked toward him, a momentary flicker of surprise reaching her eyes.
“Can I get a Gibraltar, please, Drea?” He smiled, like he had ordered the most normal coffee in the world.
“A Gibraltar?” she asked, a slight look of confusion on her face. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and he wondered briefly what had put them there.
He wasn’t about to admit he looked it up on the internet to try and stump her. It was two days since he’d seen or heard from her, and they needed to finish planning the party. So if the mountain will not come to wherever, or was it an elephant going to…? Never mind. He’d needed to see her.
“Are you sure, because you strike me as more of a cortado. Taller than a macchiato, but shorter than a latte. A Gibraltar is only four ounces, and you strike me as a guy for whom size matters. So I would have guessed cortado.” A trio of pasty white girls standing behind him laughed. Touché.
“You’re the expert. I’ll take what you’re offering,” he said with a smile. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and a smile touched the corner of her lips.
Drea’s laugh surprised him. He’d expected a haughty raised eyebrow or an eye-roll.
The smile added to the whole package, and he took a moment to appreciate the way she filled out her uniform.
She might be petite, but had plenty of curves to rock the black T-shirt with José’s written in italics across it.
The spacing of the font was inconsistent though, and it kind of bugged him.
She started to work on his order as he reached across to a grab a croissant off the tray. Where the metal spoon came from, he had no idea, but the shock of it hitting his knuckles caused him to jump. “What the fuck, Drea?” First with a pen, now a spoon?
With one hand still on the nozzle that worked the steamer, she grabbed his bruised knuckles with her free hand and kissed them gently. “Don’t put your hands inside my cake case.”
Her lips were soft and warm, and the idea of putting his hands anywhere on that sexy-as-fuck body left him horny as hell.
She grabbed a pair of tongs and put the pastry he wanted on a plate. Then she poured the coffee and milk into a small glass and gave them to him.
“Are you flirting with me, Drea? Because that sounded like a euphemism.” Cujo pulled out his wallet.
“Definitely not, because you-for-me-isn’t gonna work.”
“Clever. I wondered if you’d grab a bite with me when you get off work, see if we can’t figure out this party.” He passed her some cash and waited for the change.
“That’s not a great idea, Cujo,” she said, placing the change in the palm of his hand. He couldn’t resist. He closed his hand around the tips of her fingers.
“It’s just food, Drea. It’s getting late. I need to eat tonight, so do you, and we need to arrange this party.” Her fingers felt tiny in his hand, and when she pulled them away, he felt the loss immediately.
Lips pursed, she gazed down the line before looking back at him. “Okay, I get off in fifteen minutes.”
And there she went again. How come everything she said sounded like an innuendo?
“Good to know, but when do you finish work?” He caught the giggle before she covered her mouth with her hand and watched as she regained her composure. Flirting with her could become a new favorite pastime.