Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
brACKEN
I pull on my shirt, not bothering with the buttons as I make my way toward the stairs. My heart is racing, but it’s not fear. It’s a sense of anticipation, a thrill that I haven’t felt in a while. It’s danger and uncertainty, and God, how I’ve missed it.
“I said, stay here,” I toss over my shoulder as I hear Rachel’s soft footsteps behind me.
“But—”
“ No .” My tone leaves no room for argument. At least I hope it doesn’t. Rachel hasn’t been one to listen to me.
Once I enter the bakery, glass crunches beneath my boots. The moonlight spills in through the broken window, casting long shadows over the overturned tables and chairs. The air smells of yeast and sugar, laced with a familiar scent that makes my skin crawl.
“You bastard,” I mutter under my breath.
“You were supposed to come back with either the money or the girl,” a dark voice says.
The scent of expensive Scotch and cigars.
It’s not Malcolm. It’s his brother, Price, who makes Malcolm look like an altar boy.