Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Oliver

Creating designs on top of hot chocolate was harder than on a latte, since whipped cream didn’t behave the same as milk foam, but I did my best. The little girl standing before the counter of the coffee shop wanted a fairy on her drink, and I was determined to deliver a fairy.

The end result wasn’t perfect. One wing was bigger than the other and the leaf I wanted the fairy to be standing on looked more like a surfboard, but the little girl didn’t seem to care as she squealed in delight all the same. Her tired looking mother flashed me a grateful smile and stuffed a few extra dollars in my tip jar.

All in all, it hadn’t been a bad day. We’d been busy, thanks to the drizzly weather, but none of the customers had been too difficult, and I welcomed the distraction. Focusing on making coffee, and keeping track of any “green” orders that came through, stopped me from thinking too much about the conversation at breakfast.

There was an hour left in my shift, and I wasn’t scheduled to work at the club tonight. If I was lucky, I might be able to swing by Ashes’ place tonight for a combination of ranting and bragging.

Ranting about my Grandmother, and bragging about my night with D’Angelo.

The bell above the door rang, and I looked up to see a pair of men walk in. At first glance, they looked like standard businessmen. Not the most successful based on the fit of their suits—definitely off the rack rather than tailored—but they did well enough for themselves to walk with confidence. I would have completely overlooked them, but something nagged at my brain. A deeply buried instinct screamed words I couldn’t understand, but it put me on alert.

The men ordered a pair of basic black coffees. No cream, no sugar, and no opportunities to have any fun. I was determined to get them their drinks and send them on their way as soon as possible.

I’d just finished the first drink when the bell over the door rang again. The mother and daughter left, pulling up the hoods of their jackets as they stepped out into the rain. At first the cute sight made me smile, until I realized that I was left alone with the two strange men.

I handed the first man his drink and was about to start on the second, when I finally realized what had caught my attention about them.

Their shoes were wrong.

There were a selection of shoes that could be worn with suits, but heavy black boots that laced up above the ankle weren’t on that list. No self-respecting businessman would be caught dead wearing such shoes. These were the shoes of a laborer. Someone who wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and needed footwear that could keep up with their rugged lifestyle.

I realized I was staring and quickly looked away, turning back to the coffee machine to finish the second drink.

I was thinking too much. They were just shoes. An odd choice of shoes, yes. But at the end of the day, just shoes. Maybe there was a special reason they needed that kind of footwear. All I needed to do was give them their drinks and stop worrying so much.

“Busy day?” the first man asked, swirling his coffee in the cup without actually taking a sip. “Isn’t it hard to handle this place on your own?”

The coffee machine made a loud beep as it finished filling the cup. “My co-worker is around here somewhere cleaning up. We’re closing in less than an hour.”

That was a lie. I was scheduled to close the shop on my own, like I was every night I worked the closing shift, but they didn’t need to know that.

Placing a lid on the second cup, I turned around to hand off the drink, only to feel something hard and metal pressing into my chest. I’d never seen a gun up close before, and it took me a moment to realize what was in front of me.

The cup slipped from my hand, spilling plain black coffee all over the floor. “Sir, what...”

The bell rang again as several more people stepped into the shop. The last one locked the door, and like a coordinated unit, they started closing the blinds over each floor length window.

It was probably a dumb idea, since there was a gun pointed right at my chest, but the moment I saw them start closing the blinds I panicked and bolted for the shop’s backroom. There was a back door through the supply cupboard that I might be able to escape through.

I didn’t even make it through the swinging door into the back room, let alone the storage closet. I barely took more than a few steps before one of the men with the wrong shoes vaulted over the counter and grabbed me around the waist.

“Now, now. None of that. Just cooperate quietly and you’ll be fine.”

He lifted me up by my waist so my feet dangled in the air. I struggled, but with nothing to brace against I felt like a piece of wet laundry flapping on the drying line.

“The money’s in the till. Just take whatever you want and leave me alone.”

One of the men scoffed, but from my position I couldn’t tell which one.

“Pfah. We’re not here for your petty cash. Now quiet down.”

I whimpered but bit my lip to keep from making sound as I was dragged back over to the group. One of the men, at that point they all looked the same to me, grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look up at him.

“You sure this is the right one?”

“Yeah.” The man holding me let me go, but kicked the back of my knee so I collapsed to the floor. “Has to be this one, unless this place just so happens to have another barista with a half-melted face.”

Some of the men laughed.

I was too terrified to care about the insult. I’d certainly been called worse.

“But, really, why this one?” the man with all the questions kept asking. “Can’t even sell him with a face like that. Seems like a waste of effort.”

“Hey,” the first man, who seemed to be in charge, smacked the questioning man over the back of the head. “We were paid to do a job. So shut up, and do your job.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the questioning man grumbled and rubbed the back of his head. “You guys get the brat loaded up. The rest of us will prep the location so we can torch it on the way out.”

Two men grabbed me under the arms and dragged me to my feet. They started pulling me toward the back room. I’d tried to run there myself a moment ago, but now my route to freedom felt more like a death row march.

“No, wait, stop,” I shouted and dug my heels into the floor. “There must be a mistake. Who even are you?”

“Ugh,” one of the men groaned. “Will someone shut him up?”

Without warning, a large palm slapped me across my cheek. The blow left my ears ringing and everything turned sideways for a moment. I barely even felt the pain. Everything was happening too fast to keep up; my brain seemed to be shutting down.

One of the men suddenly let out a strange little shout. He stood frozen, looking down at his chest where his white shirt had turned red. Everyone stared at him in confusion for a moment, before he dropped to the floor like a lifeless ragdoll.

“What the hell?” one of the men holding me shouted.

There was a faint clink of breaking glass, before another man collapsed. He fell face up, and I could see a small hole in his forehead that was oozing red in thick streams over his face.

I felt faint, and my breath came in quick frenzied gasps.

“Quick, get away from the windows,” one of the men shouted.

Everyone scattered to press their backs against the walls or duck behind tables, while one man forced me down behind the counter. I could no longer see what was going on, only hear their panicked voices.

“We closed the blinds.”

“How the hell are they shooting us through the window?”

The familiar sound of the greeting bell was accompanied by the unfamiliar sound of the front door being smashed off its hinges. Someone else had broken into the shop, and the situation on the other side of the counter turned to chaos.

I slapped my hands over my ears and prayed for it to end. Whatever was happening, it had nothing to do with me. I wanted no part in it.

The people keeping me behind the counter eventually left to join what must have been some sort of fight.

I was alone. Unguarded. I could run. I should run.

But, they’d been trying to pull me out through the back door, so that way probably wasn’t safe. The only other option was the front door.

Gripping the counter with shaking hands, I pulled myself up just enough to peer over the edge. As I’d guessed, it was a fight. Most of my attackers lay unmoving on the floor, their bodies sprawled like discarded rags. Only one man remained, and he stood just in front of the counter with a gun in hand, pointing the weapon directly at... D’Angelo?

My lover from last night was barely recognizable now. He still looked sleek and well put together, but there was a lethal edge to his demeanor, and a look in his blue eyes that reminded me of a wild beast trapped in a cage.

The man with the gun was shouting at D’Angelo.

“What the hell? You weren’t supposed to be here!”

I didn’t hear D’Angelo’s response. My gaze was locked on the man with the gun. This was the same one who had slapped me. The pain still burned in my cheek. My unscarred cheek. He’d struck that side on purpose, trying to ruin what remained of my original face and leave me nothing but scars.

Fury grabbed hold of me, calming my nerves in an unnatural icy bath of cold certainty. I wanted this man to suffer.

Before I realized what I was doing, I picked up the coffee pot and, with an inhuman yell, I smashed it over the man’s head. Glass shattered, and hot coffee poured out over his face and scalded his skin. The man didn’t have time to make a single noise before he collapsed.

Maybe he was unconscious. Maybe he was dead. I didn’t know, and at that moment I didn’t care. All I felt was relief that he couldn’t hurt me again.

“Oliver?” D’Angelo said carefully, holding his hands out as he approached me like he was trying to sooth a feral animal.

The calm I’d felt when I picked up the coffee pot disappeared quicker than a popped balloon. I started shaking again, even worse than before.

Looking down at my hand that still held the coffee pot handle, I realized my vision was going blurry.

“I think I’m going to sit down now.”

Then my vision went black as I fainted.