Chapter 23
The next day, the city’s snowplows finally made their rounds clearing the streets and Angel prepared to open the bakery. Typically up early, she decided to sleep in, opening the shop later to allow her employees a chance to get to work safely. Sleeping in with Monty had not been a hardship and she grinned thinking about the last two days. His presence in her apartment had felt…right…perfect. She smiled to herself as she thought about their declaration of love.
Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, she brushed her long hair before pulling it up into her work-day bun. Monty had already left for the day and she hurried to finish getting ready. Checking her watch, she knew she only had an hour before Helen would be coming in. Walking back through her living room, she looked at her still-messy desk. Grabbing the files, she shoved them in her filing cabinet to neaten the area.
Heading downstairs, she turned on the ovens so they could pre-heat and quickly mixed up a batch of batter. Reaching into her pocket for her phone, she realized she left it on her nightstand. I think my brain’s on sex overload, she grinned. After placing the first batch into the oven, she ran upstairs to retrieve the phone. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she grinned as she saw a goofy text from Monty. Loving the idea of their personalities melding together, she realized I’m more careful and he’s more free. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she walked to the steps leading down to the kitchen.
Before she could take the first step down, a roar filled her ears the instant before the building shook on its foundation. A fiery blast blew burning air up through the stairwell from the kitchen, knocking Angel backward onto the floor. The roar continued as the sounds of glass breaking ripped through the bakery below.
Trying to make sense of what happened, she rolled over and attempted to crawl to the closest window. Pictures were shattered on the floor. Her kitchen cabinet doors flung open, their contents spilled out. Twisting back, she saw flames licking up the stairwell proceeded by thick, black smoke.
She shook her head, trying to hear what was happening, but the roar did not dissipate. Fire…fire in the kitchen. Fighting the urge to try to get to her beloved kitchen, she forced her body to move to the window.
The building shook again, bricks now tumbling loose from the walls and pieces of ceiling falling all around. The choking, black smoke curled up the stairwell, licking its way into her apartment. Reaching the window at the outside fire stairs, her fingers fumbled with the latch. Looking desperately around, she grabbed her office chair and hurled it toward the window. It shattered outward and she continued to bang the glass around the edges until most of the window was open.
Shoving one leg out onto the metal landing she thought she heard sirens, but the roaring in her ears kept her from hearing anything distinctly. Attempting to reach out to the railing, her shaking hands were unable to grasp the metal. Her breath came in short gasps, her mind trying to catch up to what was happening. Sliding forward, she tried to pull herself up, but the building shook once more, sending her flying back down on her ass.
Scooting forward, she moved toward the fire-stairs. Her gaze caught a fireman below. He appeared to be speaking, but she could hear nothing but the continuous roar. Turning her head, she realized she could barely hear him from her left ear.
“We’re coming up!” he yelled.
Looking down, she now saw two firemen making the quick climb to her landing. One began speaking to her, but she could only shake her head, pointing to her ears.
Arriving at the top, he knelt as he shifted down to her face and said, “Ma’am. This building is now unstable. We’re going to get you down.”
She nodded, her body shaking more. One fireman pulled out a shock blanket and wrapped it around her. It dawned on her that she was in freezing temperature wearing only khaki pants and a pink polo—her standard bakery uniform.
One of the men lifted her up after assessing her injuries. Carrying her down the flight of metal stairs, she was quickly moved to a waiting ambulance. The firemen handed her off to the EMTs before turning to rush back to the building.
Chad ran over to her, his face bleeding from glass cuts as well. “Angel?” he yelled. He had been on duty sitting in his old truck across the road. He noted her glazed eyes and spoke to the EMTs. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve just got a few cuts. Take care of her,” he ordered.
Sitting on the stretcher in the ambulance, Angel was vaguely aware of someone putting a blood-pressure cuff on her arm and another brushing her hair away from her face as they wiped her forehead. Her eyes dropped to the swab in their gloved hand. Red. Blood. I’m going to have more stitches in my head. She giggled out loud but heard nothing. She saw the expressions on the faces of the two EMTs now staring at her, concern in their eyes.
They think I’m losing my mind. Maybe they’re right.
Leaning forward a few inches allowed her to see the front of her bakery. What was her bakery. All she saw was shattered glass, broken bricks, and black smoke billowing from the windows. Angel’s Cupcake Heaven. Gone.
*
The Saints gathered for the latest information from Luke. Monty had spent a few minutes staring at the working board, pouring over the intel and links.
“They’re back,” Luke proclaimed, immediately gaining the attention of the group as they all turned their gazes to their intrepid computer genius. Before anyone could ask who he referred to, he sent the email messages between he and the mystery assistant to their tablets.
Low whistles were heard amongst the Fucks, Damns, and No shit comments.
“I don’t know who this person is or how they can hack into my system without me being able to trace them. I don’t know if they’re CIA or some crazy-ass fucker sitting in a hut somewhere in Montana,” Luke proclaimed. “But they were legit with our last case and I’m willing to take a chance that they’re legit on this one.”
Jack sat back in his seat, rubbing his hand over his beard thoughtfully. “I’ve got no reason to doubt this person and, although I admit, there were times in the Special Forces when we got intel from someone who wanted or needed to stay out of the picture. We always had to evaluate it, but more often than not it helped our missions.”
Jude and Bart nodded. “Same in the SEALs,” Bart confirmed.
Monty looked over at Luke and said, “I trust your judgment, man. If you think it’s legit info, then I say check it out.”
“Well, after they sent the messages I showed you all, they then sent a program that is helping me disaggregate the data from CFG. Without it, I don’t know how long it would take me to go through it all.”
“What have you gotten so far?”
“Roy had the investment accounts for Theresa and…” Luke looked up at Monty before he continued, “Scott had Betty’s and Angel’s.”
Bart’s head jerked up. “Scott said he didn’t know Betty. So the fucker lied.”
Monty’s gaze shot up, but he kept quiet, forcing his heart to find a normal pace when it wanted to gallop.
“About three months ago, when Marcia was made the president of the branch, she took them back as her own clients. I did find one email from Scott questioning her about the trade, but the only answer she gave him was she wanted to take care of friends.”
“If that went against the company’s policy that seems odd, considering she was such a stickler for doing things by the book,” Blaise noted.
“So what would be the purpose?” Bart asked. “Unless she was doing something to their accounts and didn’t want anyone else to know about it?”
Monty shook his head. “No, she was too close to the other women. They were good friends, at least from all we can tell.”
“I didn’t get a good feeling about Scott or Carlton,” Bart said. “My money’s on those two doing something illegal with some of their accounts and Marcia found out.”
“What I have found so far is that there are discrepancies in the account statements that were sent to the three women and what was reported to the IRS,” Luke said.
Monty straightened quickly, his hand slamming down on the table in front of him. “Angel was working on her business and personal taxes the past couple of days. She got frustrated because she said there were problems she noted and couldn’t reconcile.”
Luke confirmed, “I’m finding discrepancies, but haven’t had enough time to figure out what I’m looking at.”
Jack’s phone vibrated and he looked at the caller. His eyes shot to Monty. “It’s Chad.”
“Fuck,” Monty cursed, knowing nothing good could be coming from the Saint watching Angel’s bakery.
Jack immediately put Chad on speaker. “You’re on speaker. Monty’s here.” Before Chad had a chance to answer, the sound of sirens shrilled through the phone.
“What the hell’s going on?” Monty yelled, already out of his chair and grabbing his coat.
“An explosion…a goddamn explosion,” Chad gasped, his voice raspy.
Monty fell back into the chair as Marc clasped his shoulder for support. “Angel—”
“She’s alive. She was upstairs and able to break out of the window. The firemen are bringing her down now.”
“Oh Jesus,” Monty said, his breath leaving his body in a rush. “What…where…” He stuttered, trying to still his racing heart.
Jack took over, giving orders. “I want everyone there. Chad, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be here. I want to see what the fuck happened.”
Jack agreed, knowing his former ATF Saint would be able to let them know what caused the fire. “I want the rest of you to head to the bakery. Assist Chad and find out what you can. Luke, you go as well. I know you want to get into the records but, for now, I need all of you there.” Looking over at Monty and then Marc, he said, “Marc, get Monty there. Stay with him.”
The Saints dispersed, Jack stopping to call Bethany before he left. Explaining the situation, he said, “Babe, get the girls. I don’t know what Angel’s going to need, but from what Chad said…her whole world just blew up.”