Chapter Seventeen
The day flew by. Leah marveled that if just a kiss and a hickey from Ham was enough to leave her in a happy cloud for hours, actual sex with him was going to blast her off into space. She restocked the napkin dispensers, humming happily, when the doorbell sounded.
“Ham!” She couldn’t stop a huge grin from spreading over her face when he walked in the door. “What are you doing here? I brought my car today, so I don’t need an escort home.”
He gave a small shrug, his mouth doing that tilting-up-at-the-corners thing that Leah was starting to think of as his secret public smile. The man acted like he got fined by the emotion police for every facial expression. “I thought we could have dinner at my place again tonight.”
“That sounds great.” Her smile grew even more. Maybe tonight she’d finally get to feel him inside of her. A buzz of arousal made her clench her thighs together, and she forced herself to focus on their conversation. “Do you want to meet up there? I’ll be closing in fifteen, and then it’ll take me about another half hour to clean up and shut everything down.”
“I’ll stay and help.” He walked around the counter as a customer entered. Her stomach bubbling with excitement, Leah tore her gaze off of Hamilton and turned to the approaching woman. Before she could greet her, Hamilton placed a hand on her hip and held her still while he brushed his lips against her temple. Releasing her with a pat, he headed into the kitchen, and Leah couldn’t keep herself from watching him go.
“Oh, he’s cute,” the customer said, and Leah dragged her attention away from the door that Hamilton had just disappeared through. The woman wiggled her eyebrows up and down, making Leah laugh.
“A little too cute, sometimes.” The customer looked doubtful, but Leah just shrugged instead of explaining. “What can I get you?”
The woman bought a couple of loaves of bread and walked out of the store, leaving it empty except for Leah—and Hamilton in the kitchen. She was dying to join him back there, but she forced herself to stay up front, in case any last-minute customers popped in. Besides, she really did want to stick to the no-sexy-times-in-the-kitchen rule.
Glancing over the very few remaining loaves and pastries, she smiled. Mondays tended to be slow, but today had been nice and steady. Hamilton would have a light box of leftovers tonight, but he’d survive—especially since she was hoping to offer a different kind of sugar. Her body flushed with heat at the thought, but she pulled herself up short. First they’d talk, so Leah could figure out what was happening in their odd, undefined relationship. Once that was done, maybe they could have fun.
She hummed happily as she grabbed the spray bottle of disinfectant and a clean towel. Since no one was here, she might as well start cleaning up. The quicker she finished the closing tasks, the sooner she and Hamilton could go up to his loft, where they’d be alone. Her skin warmed again, and she smacked down her anticipation. Calm down, she warned her giddy self. Saturday had been so disappointing. She couldn’t get her hopes up until she knew that things were really happening.
As she wiped off the tables and chairs, she couldn’t stop her excitement from poking through the wet blanket she tried to contain it with. She was bursting with it, and even started swaying to the beat of the background music. Dancing over to the register, she started wiping down the counter when the doorbell sounded.
Of course a customer shows up right at closing, she thought, just knowing that it would be a struggle to get them to leave. That seemed to be the rule when she wanted to sneak out early—there was always something or someone that stopped it. Turning, she forced a smile, but it dropped away when she saw who’d just entered.
Jude.
Swallowing a groan, she moved behind the counter. Jude wasn’t a big guy, but she still felt better with a physical barrier separating them. “Can I help you, Jude?” She kept her voice steady and impersonal as possible, even though she wanted to throw something at him for all the annoyances he’d caused in the past week.
He was silent as he walked, hands stuffed in his coat pockets and body hunched in on itself, up to the counter. Leah resisted the urge to dart for the kitchen. His face was pale, his eyes boring into her as if he was trying to dig into her brain, and it was freaking her out. Her gaze darted to her bag as she wondered if she should grab her cell phone and call Officer Castillo, or if she should just shout for Hamilton. She’d hate for him to get in trouble for doing something to Jude, though. Hamilton had been inconvenienced enough by Jude’s behavior.
“Jude, what do you want?”
He didn’t say a word, just continued to stare at her with that disturbing look on his face.
She raised her voice, trying to make it carry to Hamilton in the kitchen without it being obvious that she was calling for help. “Why are you here, Jude?”
“Why did you...?” The words burst out of him before trailing off, and he visibly swallowed. His skin was so pale there was a green cast to it, and sweat soaked his hairline. Leah wondered if he was sick—physically sick. “You told my sister that I lied.”
“You did lie.” Her voice shook slightly, and she resisted the urge to look at the door to the kitchen. Had Hamilton heard her? If he had, what was taking him so long? Had he gone upstairs to his loft? The thought made her lungs tighten. If he had, she was alone in the bakery with her stalker—and that stalker looked like he was losing it.
“I didn’t lie!” His voice rose to a shout on the last word, and Leah jerked back a step. She instantly regretted it. Even though it moved her farther away from Jude, her cell was now out of reach, as was the bakery landline phone mounted on the wall next to the cappuccino machine. Easing closer to the counter again, she tried to slow her quick, nervous breaths as her heart pounded.
“Yes, you did.” Despite her best efforts at keeping her voice calm, her words still shook. It was crazy, but she was in a yes-you-did/no-I-didn’t argument with her stalker like they were a pair of five-year-olds. “You told her we’ve been dating for months. You said that I cheated on you. Those things aren’t true.”
The muscles along his jaw worked, making him look even more alien. “I was in here every day, Leah. Every day for months. We’d talk for hours, and you’re trying to say we weren’t in a relationship?” He was shouting again, and she resisted the urge to retreat. Stay close to the phone, she reminded her ready-to-flee brain. “I told you everything about my life, and you threw it all away because I came in the wrong door one time?”
Her mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do, not knowing if she should try to talk him out of his delusion or if she should play along. Both seemed risky and fairly hopeless. What she needed to do was to get away from him. Hamilton still hadn’t come up front, so she accepted that he was probably upstairs, oblivious to the drama happening in the bakery. It was up to her to get away from him. He was on the other side of the counter, so that would eat up a few seconds and give her a tiny head start. She needed her bag, though, so she could call for help once she got away.
“It wasn’t because you came in the back door,” she said slowly, trying to distract him as she pressed her hips against the edge of the counter. The strap of her bag was almost within reach of her fingers. She’d just need to bend her knees and dip down slightly, and she’d be able to grab it. “It was because you were acting strangely and wouldn’t leave. You’re a customer, Jude. That’s all, and you’re starting to scare me.”
“I’m not just a customer!” He was screaming now. “You can’t just dismiss me like that.”
At his wide, wild eyes, she knew the time for talking was over. She needed to run. Grabbing her bag, she whirled around and darted for the kitchen door. She hit the swinging door with full speed, breaking into the silent, empty kitchen. Even though she’d been fairly certain that Hamilton wasn’t in there, his absence hit her hard. A small part of her had still been hoping that he’d save her, but it looked like she was on her own.
Dodging around the center table, she bolted for the back door. The kitchen, which usually felt so roomy and open, now felt like a maze—one that ended in a trap. The swinging door made the light thump sound when it closed again, and Leah knew her tiny lead was closing. She forced herself not to waste precious seconds looking behind her, but it was a struggle. Knowing that he was behind her but not knowing where, or if his hand was about to grab her, was a nightmare brought to life.
Somehow, she managed to keep her gaze fixed on her goal—the back door. She sprinted past the cooler and the flour bins, never looking away from the exit—her route to safety. It got closer and closer, until finally her palms smacked against the metal door. She fumbled with the first of the two dead bolts, twisting it open, and then she reached for the other.
She was too slow.
Hard hands grabbed her upper arms, yanking her back, away from the door and freedom. She screamed, swinging her elbow back. It connected, and she heard him grunt as he lost his grip on one of her arms. Satisfaction that she’d hurt him—at least a small bit—made the agony radiating from the point of impact up and down her arm worth it. Ignoring the pain, she yanked her arm forward, preparing to elbow him again.
His arm looped around her neck, and then something cold and hard pressed against her temple. She’d never felt anything like it before, but she immediately, instinctively knew what was digging into the side of her head.
It was a gun.
She went still at the realization. Struggles seemed pointless and possibly deadly now. All she had were her fists and feet and elbows, and her untrained body was no match for a gun—especially a gun in Jude’s hands. Keeping the muzzle flush against her skull, he turned her to face the kitchen.
“Walk,” he demanded, using his body to push her forward.
She did, her feet automatically moving as the rest of her brain shrieked that there was a gun being held to her head. How had this escalated to something so deadly in just a few days? She hadn’t even thought he’d come back to the bakery, much less be armed when he did return. Her thoughts were a scrambled mess, panic whipping them around into a useless tornado of fear. She needed to do something, say something, rather than just allow him to frog-march her to her death.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice quavered so badly that the words were almost incomprehensible. “Where are you taking me?”
“This is your fault.” His words sounded as shaky as hers had, and she wondered a little hysterically if that should reassure her or scare her even more. “I was patient—incredibly patient—but you pushed me into this. You know what you did, so don’t try acting all innocent.”
“I am innocent!” The last word was a sob, and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to fight off the tears. “All I did was sell croissants and be polite to a regular customer. That’s all. You’re the one who made it into something it’s not!”
He shook her, the gun bumping painfully against her face. “Stop it! Stop downplaying this! We loved each other, and then you ruined it!”
“I never loved you!” She knew it was a mistake to scream it, that it would just enrage him more, but she couldn’t keep it inside. “I don’t even know you, and you don’t know me.”
Except for his trembling, he was still behind her. His breath was audible, and she felt each one, gusting against the crown of her head as he panted. The gun felt like it was trying to bore a hole in her temple. Despite trying to hold them back, tears rose and burned. When she squeezed her eyes closed, they overflowed, tracking down her face. She waited, expecting the gun to fire at any moment, knowing that anything she said or did now was going to make things worse.
His breath changed, blowing over the top of her head like he’d sighed or laughed silently. “You’ve always done that.” His voice was almost light, and Leah jerked at the sound of his voice. “You’ve always known just how to push my buttons and drive me crazy.”
“I haven’t done anything.” Her voice was choked, barely over a whisper, and she kept her eyes closed. Maybe it was a bad dream, and she’d wake up in her bed with Hamilton curled around her. The gun barrel bumped the bruised spot on her temple, and she knew it was real. There was too much pain for it to be a dream.
He started moving toward the swinging door again, shoving her along in front of him. “You were unfaithful. That’s the one thing I don’t tolerate.”
She started to protest, but then clenched her teeth and held back her response. As much as she wanted to argue, to fight back against his unfair accusations, it had almost gotten her shot just a few seconds ago.
“With him, too.” His voice was thick with disgust, and his arm tightened around her throat. “It wasn’t bad enough that you cheated on me, but you picked some meathead asshole rich guy.”
Rage flashed through her, shoving back the fear for a moment. “Ham’s not an asshole. He’s worth a thousand of you.”
“Shut up!” His arm tightened again, cutting off her air. She grabbed his arm, yanking at it, panicked at the lack of oxygen. He finally eased off, letting her pull in a desperate breath as he pushed her through the swinging door into the front area. “You’ll learn. Once I get you home, thi—”
A loud thump echoed through the space, and Jude’s arm loosened. Before she could figure out what had happened, she was lying facedown on the ground, her hip aching from landing on the tile. A heavy weight draped across her, pinning her down. She blinked over and over, trying to get the world to stop spinning, and the floor finally came into focus.
She tried to push herself up, but the weight on top of her wouldn’t move, and her hands kept slipping on the floor, not allowing her to get the leverage she needed.
“Leah! LeeLee? Baby? Talk to me. Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” It sounded like Hamilton, but this person was frantic and yelling and Hamilton would never lose it like that.
Suddenly, the weight was removed, and hands rolled Leah so she was staring up at a pale Hamilton.
“Leah? Are you hurt? Any pain?” He cradled her head, running his fingers through her hair and over her scalp. His expression was panicked but his hands were gentle as he smoothed her hair and peered at her.
“What happened?” The first word came out as a whisper and the second as a croak, but he still looked endlessly relieved. Turning her head, she stared at Jude’s limp body sprawled on the tile, a full sheet pan lying next to him. “You hit him with a pan?”
“He had a gun to your head.”
“I know.” As crazy as it was, she almost laughed. Did Hamilton think she hadn’t noticed? When there was a pistol jammed against your skull, it was hard to ignore it. “Is he dead?”
As if in answer, Jude groaned and lifted his head. At the sound, Leah’s body jerked in fear. His lips pressed into a straight line, Hamilton grabbed the roll of duct tape from underneath the counter. As Jude rolled over and started to push to his hands and knees, Hamilton was there, his knee jammed firmly into Jude’s spine, flattening him out again.
“Wha...?” Jude slurred, ineffectually swatting toward the weight on his back. Grabbing Jude’s wrists and locking them together with one hand, Hamilton used his teeth and his free hand to rip off a long strip of tape.
Finally able to shake off her daze, Leah scrambled to her feet. “Where’s his gun?”
As he wrapped the tape around Jude’s wrists, Hamilton tipped his head toward the corner, where the black pistol had slid. It looked just as scary and deadly as it had felt against her head, and it was a good ten feet away from a taped-up Jude, so Leah decided to leave it where it was. It was probably safer there than in her inexperienced hands.
“Can I help?”
“No.” Hamilton wrapped tape around Jude’s ankles with jerky, angry movements.
Jude turned his head, and his gaze sharpened as it landed on Leah. “Bitch. This isn’t over. I’m going to ki—”
With a growl, Hamilton slapped a piece of duct tape over Jude’s mouth, cutting him off.
“Thank you,” Leah said.
“No need.” Hamilton straightened, his eyes angrier than she’d ever seen him, all his fury directed toward a squirming, grunting Jude. “I enjoyed it. I’d enjoy beating the fuck out of him more.”
Leah blinked. “Please don’t. As much as I’d enjoy watching, I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail. I’m saving up for a new mixer. And a sheeter.” She wondered if she was in shock. She felt oddly numb and calm.
Hamilton moved over to wrap her in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest. She buried her face against him, glad she could block out the sight of Jude. His touch brought her skin back to life, burning off the numbness, and she started to shake. “Did you call for help?”
“Yeah. As soon as I heard you say Jude was here, I called Officer Castillo. I figured the asshole would see me if I tried to come in from the kitchen, so I went out the back, circled around, and came back in here through the front door.” His grip on her tightened, even as he recounted it in an even, emotionless tone, and Leah hugged him back. “I thought I’d come in behind him, but you were both in the kitchen already. Your voices were getting louder, heading this way, so I grabbed a sheet pan and waited for him to come through that door. When I saw he had that gun on you, I dropped him. I couldn’t give him the chance to shoot.”
Her terror at being held at gunpoint, at being choked, merged with Hamilton’s version of events, and everything started to spin around her again. She squeezed him more tightly, allowing his strong bulk to steady her, and her panic ebbed.
“Sorry,” she said without looking at him.
“For what?”
Tears pushed at the back of her eyes and throat. “I think I’m about to lose it.”
“Go ahead.” His arms tightened around her as he tipped his head to the side, cradling his cheek against the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”
At that assurance, she let herself go, sobbing into his neck. Even as the terror of everything rocked through her, she knew that Hamilton had saved her, and a warm lump of gratitude sat in her stomach in the middle of all of her raging, churning emotions. She’d thought he’d left, but he’d been there the whole time, and he’d risked his life to save her.
Her stomach was still heaving with sobs when she pulled her head back so she could look directly into his eyes. His expressionless mask was in place, but she could read the subtle signs he was upset—the pulse jumping at his jaw, the twitch by his eye, the way his mouth was clamped at the corners—and she knew none of that was for him. It was all for her, for her pain, her fear.
At that moment, she knew she loved Anthony Fitzgerald Hamilton III more than anyone or anything else in the world.