Chapter 27

Trixie helps me up, shooing me off to the sidewalk to sit on a bench. “Oh, my God, I can’t... I thought Sabrina... I never thought Lance would... Blackwell—”

I can’t string a coherent sentence together, but Trixie gets the gist. She saw the same thing I did.

Lance had a phone with a message from Blackwell. All signs point to his being a sleeper agent, just like Mia said.

But how? He couldn’t have been faking everything all along, could he?

The charming smiles. The panty-melting kisses. The dick me downs. My heart cries out. Not just the sex, but the emotions are what I really can’t believe he faked. He made me believe again, made me hope. And I thought he was right there with me.

He said he loved me. I said I loved him.

I meant it, I really did. But for him, was it all just a ploy? A way to get close to me, a way to hurt Thomas?

I don’t want to believe it. But the phone holds the proof. I look at it again, though tears cloud my vision, and Trixie looks over my shoulder.

There’s no passcode, so it’s easy enough to look through the data. There are pictures of the kitchen, of Steven, of me. It’s almost like he was building a file on the bakery for Blackwell.

But it’s the messages that hurt the most.

Concerns about your cover?

No sir.

Then weeks later . . .

Expect a visit.

That had been the day before Barrett Williams had shown up for his health inspection with the phony complaints. Apparently, that was Blackwell too. Sabrina really is in the clear. It seems I’m a worse judge of character than I thought. I suspected her both times, but it was the one person I never considered who was betraying me the worst.

And today’s message . . .

Mission is a Go. Execute.

The betrayal burns me to the core, and the tears that have been pouring slowly refresh their hot trails down my cheeks. Trixie holds me, taking the phone and putting it in her apron pocket.

“Honey, I get that Lance has done something really awful, but I don’t get why. Why is Steven pacing around on the phone like someone tried to kill the president? What the hell does Blackwell have to do with the bakery? This is all just . . . what?”

She looks to me, fear lining her face as her brows pinch together.

“It’s a long story,” I say, drained after all this.

She shrugs, looking across the street where the firefighters are doing all they can do. “Hell, the bakery just burned down. We’ve got time. Tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

But I can’t. It’s not my story to tell, and the last time I told someone, he ended up being Blackwell’s agent.

The phone buzzes, and both of us jolt.

Trixie pulls it out, holding it so we can both see the screen.

Blackwell—Move to final phase.

Our eyes meet, horror dawning. Burning the bakery wasn’t the end of whatever plan Blackwell has.

“Should we give this to the police?” she asks, looking at the cops and then the phone. She’s acting like the phone is a snake, about to bite her.

I shake my head, knowing the truth. “No, I need to give it to Thomas.”

She tenses as an SUV peels into the lot across the street, drawing everyone’s attention and putting us all on alert. But it’s just Jonathan, who looks at me with haunted eyes. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Are you all right?”

“It was Lance all along,” I say sadly.

“Start at the beginning,” he says crisply, all business.

I give him the basics that we’ve put together and hand over the phone. He listens carefully, asking questions about what I saw today, but shakes his head when I say it had to be Lance and that the police took him in for questioning. “It doesn’t make any sense. I know Lance Jacobs and this isn’t his style. Did the police see the phone?”

“No, it fell out of his pocket when he was scuffling with the police officer who was trying to arrest him,” I reply, shaking my head. “I thought it was just his phone, so I held onto it, for safekeeping, you know? Then I realized I’d never seen it before and read the messages on it.”

“So they took him in with no evidence? But left you here?” he clarifies, looking at the phone in his hand, and I nod.

“The last message said, final phase. What do you think that means?” My voice is shaking, but I can’t help it. Today has just been too much.

He looks grim, slipping the phone in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Stay here, stay with Steven, and Brian is on his way to be backup. Don’t talk to anyone.” He runs back to his SUV, catching Steven’s eye and pointing at us, assigning responsibility.

Trixie leans in to me, whispering, “Who the hell are you? A secret princess or something?”

My mouth opens and closes, wanting to tell her everything, but no sound comes out.

She sighs, looking worried. “Fine, I get it. But whatever the fuck is going on, I don’t think that guy is right.”

I look to her and she explains. “You said you needed to get the phone to Thomas. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this has something to do with your friends. Whatever is going on, you need to get to safety. And it sure ain’t sitting on a sidewalk bench in the open, across the street from the bakery that just got burned down. You need to get together, circle the wagons, and have each other’s back to stay safe.” Trixie points at Steven, who’s still talking in his earpiece. “Don’t keep him here, Char. Go be safe.”

I can hear the fear in her voice, the concern that something else is coming and we’re out here like sitting ducks. I look around, seeing the crowds gawking and pointing, the building, and finally, the stress on Steven’s face.

She’s right. I need to go, get to Thomas and Mia’s so we can all be together and be as safe as possible. Blackwell can’t take us all out, not with full security.

“You’re right, Trix. Safety in numbers, that’s what they say. Come with me,” I suggest.

She shakes her head, sadness in her eyes. “Honey, you can’t even tell me what’s going on because I’m outside the circle. I get it.”

I take her hands, desperate. “You’re important to me, Trixie. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced, given the situation. “I know. You’re important to me too, and that’s why I don’t want anything to happen to you, so go. But I don’t want anything to happen to me either, and you’ve got some shit coming, I think. I’m just going to head home and chill. But I’m still on the clock.” The tease is bitter. I know she’s hurting and is scared for me.

I hug her tight, her arms wrapping around me too.

“Love you,” I tell her honestly.

“Love you too. Now go give Blackwell hell, rip his nuts off, though still not for a ‘Nutz for Nutz’ cupcake. Ew,” she says, her nose crinkling. “Still the grossest thing you’ve ever thought of.”

“Thank you, though you’re a crazy bitch, you know that?”

She grins, and it seems the slightest bit more real this time, until she looks across the street and the smile fades. “This is our bakery, damn it,” she spits out. “Nobody gets to take it.”