Page 48 of Romeo

I didn’t make him say it twice.

I went straight to my room, grabbed a duffel, and threw in enough clothes to last a few days. I wasn’t planning a vacation. I just needed to see the man for myself. Needed to know whether Fiona was being overly cautious or whether the bastard had earned the warning buzzing at the back of my skull.

And if he had...

I zipped the bag.

I’d deal with it.

The drive to Rosewood took twenty-three hours. I stopped for gas, ate when I had to, and kept my phone on the passenger seat the entire way. Fiona texted me twice. Once to say goodnight. Once the next morning to ask how I slept.

Me: Fine.

That was technically an answer.

I just left out the part where I’d spent the night driving across half the country.

By the time I reached Rosewood, exhaustion had settled behind my eyes, but sleep wasn’t happening yet. I checked into a cheap motel on the edge of town, dropped my bag on the bed, then went looking.

The Creamery sat on Main Street, pale yellow with white trim and a hand-painted sign over the door. Bright. Cheerful. The kind of place that didn’t belong anywhere near the things I was thinking.

I parked where I could watch without being obvious.

Fiona’s shift started at three. I’d memorized her schedule weeks ago when she’d told me.

At 2:55, she appeared, and my chest tightened before I could stop it. Light brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Jeans. Pale pink Creamery shirt. Apron tied around her waist.

She disappeared inside, and for the next hour I watched customers come and go. Families. Teenagers. An older couple. Nobody interesting.

Then a man walked in, and something in me went still.

Late twenties. Brown hair. Khakis and a button-down shirt. Nothing about him screamed threat.

That was probably why I disliked him immediately.

I watched through the window as he leaned against the counter while Fiona worked. She stepped back. He leaned closer. She smiled because she was working, not because she wanted to.

Then she handed him his change.

His fingers covered hers.

There it was.

Small enough for anyone else to ignore.

Not me.

I got out of the truck.

He left a few minutes later with a coffee in his hand, and I let him get half a block ahead before I followed. Three blocks later, he entered a small office building.

I waited.

Five minutes.

Then ten.

When I went inside, his name was printed neatly on the door upstairs.