Page 193 of No Headlines Please

Thus, the fudge.

The two of us sat side by side at a small table, facing the counter where at least thirty varieties of fudge were lined up behind the glass.

The flavors were beyond reckoning. Sure, there was basic chocolate. But there was also chocolate peanut butter, maple walnut, butter pecan, cookies and cream, rocky road, salted caramel, cherry almond, white chocolate raspberry swirl, and chocolate mint chip.

And that was just the top row.

Me, I'd gone with double dark chocolate while Delaney had selected chocolate espresso for herself.

It was late afternoon, and we were the only customers in the shop, which wasn't surprising given the weather – rainy and bitterly cold after a twenty-degree drop since Saturday.

The last couple of days had gone smoother than I might've hoped. From what I could tell, Tessa had been trying not to hate me, even if Ryder was being his usual smart-ass self.

But it was Delaney who made the entire trip worthwhile. Technically, we still had separate bedrooms, but this only lasted until our bedroom doors shut for the night, even as the connecting bathroom kept everything nice and open.

So far, we'd spent two nights in my bedroom and one in Delaney's – not that I was keeping track.

The craziest part about this whole trip was that nearly nobody seemed to recognize me. Sure, I got a couple of side-eyes here and there, but it was nothing compared to Chicago.

Then again, I'd been making an effort to blend, favoring faded jeans over slacks and trading formal jackets for a dark hoodie.

Still, I was liking the sense of anonymity, and it was slowly dawning on me that I'd spent my whole life in a fishbowl, where the headlines practically wrote themselves.

Next to me, Delaney took another nibble of her fudge before asking, "So, you wanted to talk about something?"

Today, she was wearing a black sweater, jeans, and a light jacket she'd removed after sitting down. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair fell long and loose. She looked a dream come true, and I couldn't help but smile as I told her, "Actually, I want to show you something."

She glanced around. "You do?"

"Yup." I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out the small tablet. "Call it a slide show."

She gave me a funny look. "Of what?"

"People you might recognize. And some you might not."

She laughed. "Well, that wasn't vague or anything."

She was right. I was being vague. But I had my reasons. I set the tablet on the table in front of us and pulled up the file. Immediately, a photo of a middle-aged man in a business suit filled the screen. I looked to Delaney. "Do you recognize him?"

She shook her head. "No. Should I?"

"Either you will or you won't. You'll have to tell me as we go." I scrolled to the next photo, a slightly younger man in a dark sweater. "How about him?"

"Nope."

I scrolled to the next one, a man around the same age as the second guy, but wearing a suit. "And him?"

She paused. "Wait…isn't that Stan Levinson?" She looked to me. "He's a client of Lenny's."

"Yup."

"So, why do you have his picture?"

"To see if he was the guy who threatened you."

Confusion flickered across her face. "But I already told you, the guy was nobody I recognized."

"I know." I gave her a meaningful look. "But are you sure you met all of Lenny's clients?"