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It’s the voice I heard when I was in Tiger’s house.
“He fucking better. I don’t have time for this shit.”
He was so angry then; so demeaning. Now, as he puts in his order for a coffee, his voice is only slightly different. I hear the anger under it, but there is a forced politeness too.
“Blueberry muffin,” Trina calls out. That’s my queue to grab one, put it in a bag, and place it on the counter for the customer. But I can’t move. I can’t come face to face with the man who could be responsible for Tiger’s death. I don’t know if he was the one who did it, but he was there when it happened. He was looking for something and was planning the clean-up of Tiger’s body. He’s involved.
“Rae? I need a blueberry muffin,” Trina repeats as she grabs the pot of coffee to fill the large to-go cup.
I stay there, frozen. Part of me wants to peek around the case to see if I recognize the man. If he’s the one I saw that day. The other part of me is screaming to run.
It’s unsafe. Danger. Go! Run!
Tiger’s voice repeats in my head, over and over.
“Run!”
“Run!”
“Run!”
Trina can’t save me. And if that man sees me, he’s going to kill me.
“Rae—”
I scramble away, bursting through the swinging doors that lead to the back room, and go straight into the office where I lock myself inside.
With shaky hand, I pull the card that Detective Warren gave me from my pocket, pick up Trina’s cell phone, and dial without thinking.
Chapter Twelve
Pierce
I place my coffee on my desk so I can pull my ringing phone from my pocket. I don’t recognize the number, but the description says Falling Oaks. That piques my interest, and I swipe to answer before it goes to voicemail.
“Warren,” I answer.
“He’s here.”
“Who’s there?” I ask, panic filling my chest.
I feel Forge’s gaze on me. He walks over, raising a brow. I hold up a finger then put the phone on speaker.
“The man.”
“What man?” I ask.
Raewyn is hyperventilating on the other end of the phone.
“I need you to calm down,” I say in a firm voice, that feeling in my chest getting tight at the thought of her being stressed out. Or scared. I don’t like knowing she’s scared, and for the first time in a long time, anger swirls in my chest. This overwhelming need to protect her.
“Just breathe,” Forge says, leaning forward on my desk with his palms flat. “Take a deep breath for me. In. Hold it for four. Out. Hold it for four.”
I’m taken back by the gentleness in his tone. Forge is a lot of things but gentle isn’t one of them. I’ve never heard him take this tone before. Never.
Raewyn does as she’s asked, slowing her breathing.
“That’s good,” he says. “Just like that. Now tell me who is there.”
