Chapter Thirty-Seven
The bells that hung on the bagel shop’s doors jangled, but even if they hadn’t announced when Chance walked in, Liam would’ve known, anyway. Chance had a way about walking into a room full of women that made a hush fall.
Liam tore a chunk off his sliced bagel and dipped it into his peanut butter packet as Chelsea caught sight of his buddy walking in.
“That’s him?”
Again, Liam didn’t turn to look. “Yup.”
“How do you know—”
“Because that book club over there?” He tilted his head back. “Went from a book-talking, boss-busting, homework-bemoaning storm to silent mode.”
Her face scrunched, ready to defend the now-quiet group.
“Five bucks says,” he continued, “there’s a brave one who will try to snap a picture with her phone.”
Chelsea slapped her mouth shut.
“You think we don’t know?” He winked and tore another piece of bagel and dug it into the peanut butter.
“You can’t honestly think that random women take pictures of you guys on the down low.”
He laughed. “You should see what happens if there’s a dog or kid around.”
Chance walked to the counter and placed his order, and Chelsea paused as though imagining the sight then rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He feigned innocence. “Of course not.”
“Why don’t you use a knife and spread the peanut butter like a normal person?”
“Do you know how cute you are when you don’t have a way to win a conversation?” He dunked the bagel in the peanut butter again.
“No one is taking pictures of either of you.”
“If you put a book in his hands, he could go viral.” Liam popped the smeared bagel piece into his mouth. “I always wonder why they take pictures instead of walking up and saying hey.”
“Because as cute as you two might be, it’s a gamble if you’re worth the trouble.”
“Hey, now.”
She shook her head. “The book club ladies always know what they’re doing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And that is?”
“Staying away from trouble.”
He laughed, shaking his head as Chance stepped up to their table.
“Morning.” His lazy half grin curled for Chelsea, and he stuck his hand out to introduce himself.
Pleasantries said, Chance turned for his order when it was called.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’d go viral—with a book, a puppy, or a kid.”
Liam chuckled. “At least you agree sneaky pictures exist.”
She didn’t answer as Chance joined them again with his order and eased into his chair.
They made quick small talk, and Liam wondered if Chelsea would ask Chance what his thoughts were on strangers taking pictures.
But the conversation shifted to Chance’s watch duty.
After a list of possible concerns that weren’t problematic, he summarized the update as “Jack shit is happening now, and maybe Hagan will have better luck.”
“Nothing happening is good luck,” Liam pointed out.
Chance shrugged then spread cream cheese across a toasted bagel with a plastic knife.
Chelsea preened, and Liam tore off a larger-than-necessary piece of bagel and rolled it in peanut butter. Her eyebrow lifted, and he tossed the entire messy bite into his mouth.
“Sexy,” she muttered.
“That’s what I tell him all the time,” Chance added, taking a second glance at Chelsea.
Liam balled up his peanut-butter-covered napkin and pegged Chance. “Eyes in your head.”
“I wasn’t checking her out.” Chance tossed his hands up in faux surrender. “Just understanding the dynamic.”
They were at work. There was no dynamic. Chelsea straightened and focused on her bagel.
“You two going to set up the new equipment today?” Chance asked.
Liam nodded.
“Want some help?”
He considered how much time Chance’s help would save against how much Liam enjoyed time alone with Chelsea.
“Why don’t either of you have jobs?” Chelsea asked.
Chance took another bite of bagel then a swig of coffee. “We do.”
She scowled. “Why don’t you have to go to them?”
“Contracting means making your own schedule,” he said.
“I thought you were only able to help for a couple days,” Chelsea countered.
“At first.” Chance left his response at that.
“We’re off, and we’re on,” Liam added, preferring the inquisition to be over. “Contracts change. That’s how it goes.”
Chance agreed then asked Chelsea, “Are you okay with this?”
“This what? Because I don’t know much.”
“You have to know something.”
Their conversation was making Liam uncomfortable.
“I can help catch Julia’s murderer, and two people I love may be in danger. That’s all I know.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Chance said.
Oh hell. That wasn’t the right thing to say to Chelsea.
“What do you know?” she asked.
The volume of a muted television that hung in a corner turned up, interrupting the growing tension, and a hush fell over the bagel shop again. Chance, Chelsea, and Liam turned toward the television.
brEAKING NEWS REPORT was emblazoned across the red chyron at the bottom of the screen. A scene of first responders working behind a reporter was playing. Smoke curled from a building behind the woman’s dark hair.
“She did it again,” Chelsea whispered then pushed out of her chair and asked the woman behind the counter, “Can you turn that up?”
Even as the volume increased, she stepped closer to the TV.
Liam pieced together the report. Zee Zee Mars had struck again, hitting a student center in Kentucky. They showed a picture of Mars and the calling card she’d become known for, a dark calla lily. Chelsea’s face reddened. She had her cell phone in hand and was furiously texting.
“What’s that all about?” Chance asked.
The incident was tragic, but Chelsea’s reaction showed more. It was personal, and she’d been pulled from her work because they’d gone out and gotten drunk together.
Guilt lined his chest. If people died, that might be his fault. Perhaps she could’ve prevented the bombing. And he’d stopped her while trying to protect his loved ones while other innocents were lost. “She’s worked on Zee Zee Mars for years.”
“Shit.” Chance whistled then looked from the television screen to Chelsea and back. “Squint a little, and it’s almost like Chelsea could be Zee Zee Mars, give or take a decade or so.”
Liam didn’t see a resemblance. “I wonder if they’ll need her on the job.”
Then they both realized quickly that they were about to be a person down if she had to report into work.
“We can handle it,” Liam finally said.
“If we can’t, then I know a guy or two that can step in.”
Liam rubbed his temples. For a gig that wasn’t supposed to exist, keeping an eye on the Nymans was starting to expand more than he was comfortable with. “No more folks.”
“My source is solid. They won’t ask. Won’t tell.”
They? “I can’t rely on you to provide an endless supply of backup.”
Chance let a fist land heavily on the table. “In this case? You do.”
Surprised by the truth, Liam agreed. “Appreciate it.”
Chelsea returned and folded herself into the chair. She tore a piece off her bagel and jammed it into her cream cheese container. If she didn’t look ready to angry-cry or kill, Liam would’ve called her on the bagel tear-and-dunk.
She swallowed the bagel, and her expression darkened. “I’m still benched.”
“What?” That couldn’t be right. Even if he didn’t want to lose her help, it didn’t make sense not to call in all hands on deck.
“Something about how Mac has it covered. How I worked it like a lone ranger and now it was my turn to get my head on straight.”
“Your head’s not on straight?” Chance asked wryly.
She seared him with a laser glare.
“Forget I asked.”
Chelsea abruptly pushed out of her chair again and studied the back of the bagel shop then rotated and gave the rest of the shop the same scrutiny.
Chance glanced at Liam, and Liam shrugged. The bombing and her behavior didn’t match.
“What’s up?”
Her lips flattened, and finally, her search stopped. “I don’t know. Nothing I can explain.”
That had been their life lately.
“Something’s up,” Liam pressed.
“Something.” She feigned a bullshit smile and sat down again. “Or not.”
Both he and Chance hazarded a quick look around, but neither sourced her unease.
Her foot tapped.
The fidgeting unsettled him. “Chelsea?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Liam covered her bouncing knee with his hand and stilled it. “What is it?”
“I feel like…” Her lips tightened. “We’re being watched.”
Was that a possibility? Sorenson? Liam peppered her with casual questions to hone-in on her concern and avoid giving away what he wondered, but she couldn’t nail anything other than a vibe.
“Just a strange feeling,” she finally said and stopped fidgeting.
Strange feelings were gut punches of instinct. Liam did another once-over as Chelsea gathered the trash from the table. The last time he’d had a bad feeling, all hell broke loose on the Metro. “Guess that means it’s time to roll.”