Page 56 of Secret Sins

"Mind if I have some?"

I had to clamp my lips together to keep from screaming. He'd moved silently while I was lost in my head, and was now right beside me.

"Sure." Desperately trying to keep myself calm, I pulled out a black mug and sloshed coffee into it. "Cream and sugar are on the table by the window."

"Thanks."

He seemed pleasant enough. If not for his cap hiding his face and my jumpy stomach, there wouldn't be anything weird about the encounter. It was like when Van first came to town, only more . . . more.

"Is there a particular genre you prefer to read? I can point you in the right direction."

Sipping the coffee without adding anything to it, the man moved down the aisle again. "Not really."

Obviously, he wasn't a talker. Glancing out the open doors, I tried to decide what to do. Call someone? Bolt for the bakery, for safety? Run and grab Van, insisting he hide while I called the police?

But what good would that do? I had nothing to go by except my suspicions and an uneasy stomach.

"Well, thanks for the coffee." The stranger set the mostly empty mug on the table and lumbered off through the doors.

Immeasurable minutes passed while I stood frozen, my hands pressed to my stomach. Finally, Van came through the door with a large white box in his hands.

"I didn't mean to take so long, but they were slammed."

Feeling the trembling starting in my gut, I was powerless to stop it. My knees weakened, and I wobbled to the ground by the register, tucking my head between my knees so I wouldn't hyperventilate.

"Bailey!"

His hands were on me, soothing me, patting me, lifting my chin. Safe, whole, secure, and in my line of sight. Nothing bad had happened to him. He was safe.

"Bailey?"

"I don't know." He hadn't asked what was wrong, but my brain was malfunctioning.

"What happened?"

"I think I'm okay." Looking up into his concerned eyes, I made myself rise off the floor. "I'm okay."

Wrapping his arms around me, Van inhaled deeply. "What the fuck just happened?"

"Why do you have a V-shaped scar on your ribs?"

"What?" Stepping away as fast as if I'd burned him, Van moved very far across the store from me, and his actions hurt like a bitch. "What?"

"I've noticed it, and it's unusual."

"Why the fuck are you asking me about my scar when you just freaked out over some unknown thing?"

"What's it from, Van?" I insisted.

Twisting his hands together, he avoided my gaze. "It was a brand," he choked out.

Oh, duh. "V for Vitale?"

Unshed tears wavered in his eyes. "Yes."

"But why is it so ragged?"

"Bailey, honestly, tell me what happened."