I shook my head again, gesturing at my watch.
He knocked harder this time and yelled so I could hear him through the door. “Ms. Laurent, I wish to speak with you.”
How did he know my name?
“We’re closed,” I called back, staying behind the counter. “You can come back tomorrow morning. We open at six.”
“This won’t wait until tomorrow.”
My fingers twitched toward my phone. Garrett had said to call if the Russian came back, but this wasn’t the same guy. The feeling like ants skittering up my neck was the same, though.
“My employer is interested in acquiring the egg,” he said, his volume rising. “We need to discuss terms.”
My heart stuttered. The egg. How could he possibly know about the egg?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, loud enough he could hear me, but hopefully appearing calmer than I felt. “Please leave, or I’ll call the police.”
His lips curled into an almost-smile, but there was no warmth in it. “We know about your trip to London. It would be simpler to resolve this here.”
I could count the people who knew about my trip on two hands... and somehow, this stranger was one of them.
He tried the door, harder this time, rattling the glass.
My stomach dropped. I was alone, and the only thing protecting me was a pane of glass. I yanked my phone out and found Garrett’s name at the top of my contacts. But what if making a call would set the man off? What if he broke in while I was talking?
Move, Grace!
I grabbed my bag and backed toward the kitchen. From there, it would be a straight shot to the rear exit.
“This doesn’t have to be difficult!” he hollered, slamming a palm against the door.
I pushed through the swinging kitchen door and ran for the back. I peeked through the small window into the alley. No one was there. Either the man was alone, or someone was waiting in the shadows.Please be alone. Please be alone.I fumbled with the deadbolt, locked up behind myself, and hurried to my car.
Seconds later, I was peeling out of the narrow space behind the café. But as I pulled onto the side street, I spotted him rounding the corner. I hit the accelerator and sped off. My hands trembled as I drove, and I checked the mirrors over and over, half-expecting to see him following me. I pressed the voice command button on my steering wheel. “Call...”
Who?
Garrett?
What are you doing? You are not calling a man who barely spoke to you.
It hadn’t been the Russian. But was it connected to him? Hadhebeen after the egg, too?
“Call Isabella.”
The line rang, and Tristan answered. “Hello?”
“Is Izzy home?”Slow down, Grace. You’re talking too fast.I zipped through an intersection, the light switching to red before I was all the way through.
“She’s—” He cut off, his formerly pleasant tone darkening. “You okay?”
“I think...” I checked the rear-view mirror. It was a busy hour. Lots of cars on the road. How would I know if he’d gotten into a car and was behind me?
“What happened?”
“A man came to the café. Not the Russian, but someone else. He knew my name. He knew about my trip to London. He knew about…” My grip tightened around the wheel, but it didn’t stop the shaking.
“Hold on.” He had a brief, muffled conversation and came back to me right away. “Isabella says you should come over. She cooked too much.”
