Page 14 of Clever Deceit

“Only that you ran right into me,” I finally said. “Any decent person would have apologized for that.”

He got up in my face, the sneer getting even more pronounced. “Then maybe that makes me an indecent person. Or maybe it just means I looked at you and realized you weren't worth the time it would take to apologize. What do you think?”

I heard the gasp from my right, where Amy was still standing, but put a hand out to stop her from saying anything. I might be in the middle of something I didn't understand with this asshole, but that didn't mean I wanted her involved. I'd already put too many people I loved in harm's way.

I was going to keep Amy safe.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked. “A cop, I can see that much. Does your supervisor know you go around shoving innocent women out of your way just to get to some cookies?” I forced myself to laugh derisively. “Is that what you're after? Some cookies? And you need to shove people to get to them? How pathetic.”

His hand flew up so quickly I barely got out of the way before it hit my face, but when I came back up, I had my own hands up in fists in front of me. I might have put up with a man hitting me when I was younger, but I was a different person now. I'd been on the road on my own for five years.

And I'd learned how to take care of myself.

Before I had to use any of my training, though, the cop was jerked backward and pushed to the side by someone. I looked up, wondering if Warren had somehow showed up to save me, and saw instead Mark McCarthy.

Looking just as oily and dangerous as he always had, and like he'd just done me the biggest favor in the entire world.

He leered at me in what was probably supposed to be a friendly smile and then turned to the officer. “Diggs, what the fuck? You're in the bakery of all places, picking on a harmless set of girls? What are you doing?”

The words were harsh. His tone of voice was not. Still, the officer cowered in front of him like a dog that was used to being hit.

“Sorry, sir. I didn't mean no harm, honest.”

“Then I suggest you say you're sorry and get the fuck out of here,” Mark snarled, doing a slightly better job of sounding like he actually meant it.

The officer—Diggs, evidently—mumbled an apology and then got out of the bakery as quickly as his pudgy legs would move.

I watched, confused and surprised, and then turned my eyes back to Mark. “Thanks,” I muttered.

I stepped to the side, intent on nothing but getting out of the bakery and back to my van, but he put out a hand to stop me.

Oh, crap. A chill shot through me at the contact, and though I tried to shrug him off again, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. I looked up again, already knowing what I was going to see, and took in the chilling, slimy smile of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

“You have to be careful out here on your own like this, Lily,” he said softly. “You shouldn't be out without your dog, at least. Bad things happen in small towns all the time to girls who let themselves be caught unawares. And you should tell your man, too. Tell him to be careful out there. It's a dangerous world, after all.”

My mouth went dry at his tone. At the words he was using.

Because he wasn't telling me to be careful because he cared about me. He was threatening that something bad was going to happen to me.

I gave him a quick nod and ducked around him, yanking my arm from his hand and making for the door as quickly as I could. Once I was through it, I increased my pace even more, my eyes on my VW and the dog sitting in the driver's seat. Silver's happy smile was gone now, and she was tense, her jaw clenched and her neck tight.

She was staring at the bakery behind me, and I knew she was looking right at Mark McCarthy. Probably seeing him for exactly what he was and yearning to go after him.

I walked even more quickly, then, because that meant he was still behind me and no doubt watching me leave. My skin was crawling at that thought—and the feeling that more eyes were watching from across the street. Down the alley. On the other side of the bakery. I felt surrounded, like I'd never get away from the people looking at me, and I just wanted to be home. I wanted Warren to put his arms around me and tell me it was going to be okay.

I didn't want to be alone.

I jumped into the van, pushing Silver over to the passenger seat, and stuck the key in the ignition. When I turned it, the van jumped to life—but so did Silver. She started growling and barking, her hackles up and her nails digging into the fabric of the seat. I looked up at her and saw that she was still staring back at the bakery.

Reluctance flooded through me. I didn't want to look. I didn't want to know.

But I knew I had to.

I turned my eyes in that direction, my heart hammering against my ribs, and saw what Silver was staring at. Mark had come out of the bakery and was standing on the sidewalk now, staring right at me. His eyes were a cold, terrifying silver.

And he was still smiling that smile.

CHAPTER 8