Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
RACHEL
I ignore Bracken’s command to stay put. Who does he think he is to order me around? He may have taken my virginity, but that doesn’t give him the right to control me. With careful, silent steps, I follow him down the staircase.
As I crouch behind the counter, my heart pounds like a wild drum. The sight of the destroyed bakery hurts. The place where I’ve poured my heart and soul—my mother’s legacy—lies in ruins. But what frightens me more is the man standing next to Bracken.
He looks like he’s been through hell and decided he liked it well enough to stay. His hair is black and slick, his eyes dark and mean.
He didn’t come here for cinnamon rolls or tarts.
“This is my job,” Bracken’s voice says. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
“As soon as you hand over the cash.”
The cash? What the hell is going on? I thought Bracken and I had a deal.
I shake my head slowly.
I’ve been played.
Played like a violin in an orchestra.
Bracken just wanted to fuck me. To control me.
I ball my hands into fists, stand, and come out from behind the counter. I walk toward Bracken and the stranger.
“You motherfucker,” I grit out, no longer caring about profanity in the bakery.
Quick as lightning, an arm grabs me—and it’s not Bracken’s.