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Baking Bad

Orzo

Iwait a single beat for Cinnamon to turn away before grabbing this man by the neck and dragging him further down the alleyway.

Taking him behind the dumpster.

Durian.

The same man who pushed Cinnamon’s boundaries before. Who was disrespectful and disgusting.

The last time I ran into him, he was lucky. I was too preoccupied with Cinnamon to do anything about the nuisance.

But not now.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Kale chases after me.

“MM!” Durian splutters as I tighten my hold on his neck.

His face is turning a shade of purple I am familiar with, and I know it will only be a matter of seconds before he goes unconscious.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fou—

He slumps over, and I let him drop to the ground. Rounding on the other man.

Kale Aldente.

John Smith.

“What is your angle?” I clip through my teeth, my jaw cracking in my rage.

Kale is a few feet away, hanging past the dumpster on the other side.

He’s out of sight from any curious onlookers. I can just skip the hitman and be done with him too.

“I’m a detective.” He eyes Durian warily.

My head falls back and I let out a laugh. “And I’m a priest.”

“How do you know Cinnamon?” The question is genuine.

And that’s what makes it worse.

I bristle. “Why do you live next to her? Some sort of penance for her mother?” I counter back.

His eyes widen in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t even know.

“You’re an idi—”