Rosie splashed water on her face and dried off before turning back to the cookies. She didn’t feel like decorating anymore, but she’d finish the job because she didn’t want to waste the frosting she’d made.

Filling the bag, she adjusted the nozzle and got set to start her snowflakes when the door creaked open again.

An instant smile pulled her lips wide, excitement skittering through her as she assumed Blaine had come back.

Not that she should be smiling.

He was taken. She barely knew him. The chances of them ever getting together were slim to none.

But just the thought of seeing his tall body fill the doorway, of feeling his soft, affectionate gaze on her…

She bit her bottom lip, unable to control her smile.

But maybe it was Louanne.

She sighed and deflated.

Of course it would be Louanne. Why would Blaine come back? He was going home to a girlfriend.

Her stomach pinched and she neutralized her expression. Louanne looked kind of annoyed that Blaine was visiting Rosie after closing. She’d have to build on her lie about inviting him in, try to think of something casual and meaningless that they were talking about. Play it like Blaine was nothing and she was just being friendly.

Blaine should be nothing, you stupid girl.

Brushing the hair off her face, she pulled her shoulders back, looked up and gasped.

Louanne was not standing in the kitchen doorway.

Rosie’s worst nightmare was.

“Damien,” she squeaked. His name left a vile taste in her mouth.

His upper lip curled as he glared at her. His handsome face was marred with an ugly cut on his left cheek, like someone had taken to him with a razor blade. His eyes were dark with malevolence and rimmed with an edge of fear that made him even more dangerous.

She turned to escape but ended up banging into the wall.

She hissed and then stopped breathing as he stormed around the counter and got in her face, trapping her between his arms.

“Where are they, Rosie?” His fingers felt like daggers as they dug into her shoulders.

It was impossible to speak past her fear. He looked ready to kill her…or maybe ready to drag her back to Brookvale and sell her.

“How’d you find me?” Her voice hitched and she whimpered as his grip tightened.

His spittle hit her face when he leaned down and shouted, “Where the fuck are the drugs?”

“I don’t have them!” She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from his monstrous rage.

Snatching her chin, he yanked her head back and screamed. “Look at me!”

She couldn’t. She didn’t have the courage to open her eyes. So he slapped her.

The sting made her eyes pop wide. A half-gasp, half-sob flew out of her.

“Look at my face! They paid me back for your nasty reply to Chester.”

Her body shuddered, erratic breaths punching out of her as she glanced at his gnarly wound. It was searing red around the edges, bound together with stitches. It must have hurt like hell. Plus, his sharp, playboy features were tainted. He’d hate that. He prided himself on his good looks.

“Rosie, I don’t think you get it. My boss is going to kill me. He knows. He knows I was skimming pills and selling them on the side. He knows I lied about the drugs I was supposed to sell that night, because the person I was supposed to sell them to contacted him asking where the fuck they were! He’s calling me a damn thief. I need to give him something, do you understand me? So if I don’t have drugs or money, I have to give ’em you.”

Terror spiked through her so sharp and hard that her legs buckled.

Damien pulled her up before she fell, slamming her back against the wall.

She cried out as pain radiated through her shoulder.

Damien barely noticed. His wild glare was a mix of rage and fear. “We need those drugs or we need that money, plus interest. And I had to do some pretty sweet talking to get away with that. They were going to send Chester here to get you, and he’s pretty damn pissed about the way you treated him. I told them you’d listen to me. That I could get through to you.” His voice pitched. “You’ve caused a whole heap of trouble, Rosie girl. And you need to get us out of it. So where are they? Where are the drugs?”

“They're not here.”

“Did you sell ’em? Huh? Did you take the money for yourself?”

“No.”

He raised his hand and she cowered, sliding to the floor with a whimper.

“Shit!” Smacking the wall, he screamed a string of curses before crouching down in front of her. “Stop fucking crying!”

He ran his gloved hand over her head and pressed his forehead against hers. “Would it really have been so bad? One week and they would have been done with you. They could have sold you to some wealthy clients, made some sweet cash, and they’d be off our backs. But you couldn’t even do that for me, could you?”

Anger flashed through her and she pushed him away with a yell. “I’m not some whore!”

“You made Chester bleed! You pissed them off, and now it’s a million times worse!”

“I won’t be sold.” Her voice was deep with venom. Standing on shaky legs, she pointed down at him. “I thought I loved you. I even saved your ass from the cops.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“They came to the apartment. They searched it—every freaking corner of it. They would’ve found those drugs, and you would’ve been arrested.”

He went still, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not lying!” she screeched. “I thought I was protecting you, and then you turned around and tried to sell me like I’m some piece of trash!”

“I was just trying to buy us some time.” He struggled to his feet, his wet boots skidding on the shiny floor. He grabbed the counter and kept his balance, spinning around to glare at her. “They’ll get that money back any way they can. If I can’t supply it, they want the drugs. So you either need to give them to me, or you need to come up with ten grand.”

“Ten grand?” she choked out.

“Interest, Rosie girl. And the penalty for fucking up.” Her body convulsed as he kept painting the picture. “If we don’t have that for them by Monday night, we’re dead. We’re both dead. They’ll come for you, and they won’t give a shit who else they take out along the way.”

“They know where I am?”

“How do you think I found you? They sent me here like a fucking messenger boy. They’re showing mercy. Three whole days of it.”

“We can’t get that kind of money in three days.”

“We?” Damien poked a finger at his chest and came toward her. Slow, ominous steps echoed through the kitchen as she stood there frozen.

Grabbing her face, Damien pulled her close, his viselike grip painful and unrelenting.

“I wasn’t stupid enough to make a bag full of drugs disappear. This is your problem, Rosie. And you’re going to get me out of it.”

“I can’t. I ca—”

His next slap was blinding. “Shut up!”

She pressed her trembling lips together and tried to lurch away from him, but he pulled her back. His breath, which used to be so warm and tantalizing, was a burning fire on her skin. “If you aren’t willing to flash a little skin and do a little dirty to save our asses, then you will get those drugs or get us that money. Our lives depend on it.”

She whimpered.

“You think I’m bad? This is a fucking tea party compared to what they’ll do to you.”

Her face throbbed, and she didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye.

“Monday night. I’ll call you with a time and place.” He held out a burner phone. “Take it. My number’s the only one on there.”

She hesitated, hating the idea of being linked to him.

“Fucking take it, Rosie!”

Her quivering fingers curled around it and she held it to her chest.

“You better show up with something.” Grabbing the back of her hair, he gave it a tug and forced her to look at him. His face flashed with regret, like maybe he’d loved her a little bit too, but now he despised her for the trouble she’d caused. “Don't even think about bolting, Rosie girl. They'll ruin everyone you know while they're trying to find you. I'm sure Lulu, or whoever the hell owns this place, won’t appreciate finding their little coffee shop in ashes. And that tall guy who walked out of here a little while ago? He'll be dead before he even sees it coming.”

Rosie’s mouth went dry, her rounded eyes no doubt giving away how much those threats hurt her.

He let her go, shoving her back as he stepped away.

She hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, sobs bursting out of her the second the door slammed shut behind him.

Covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she dipped her head and fought to hold on to her sanity. Damien’s warnings crippled her. All she could do was sit on the kitchen floor and weep.

Weep until there were no tears left.

She had no idea how long she stayed curled in a ball on the floor. Her body ached, her face throbbed, and her stomach still jerked with the odd hiccupping sob, but finally she fell silent.

“You have no choice,” she whispered. “They won’t care that Blaine’s a cop. They won’t care that Lulu’s just a sweet lady who’d never hurt anybody.” Her chin bunched, her lips trembling as she fought more tears. “You have to get that money.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, she pulled herself up off the floor and gazed down at the cookies. She slashed the tears off her cheeks and reached for the frosting bag, then one by one mangled each snowflake.