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“Who is Remy? If you don’t mind me asking and what’s her lawsuit about?” Hawk asked.
“Remy is a close friend from my law school days. She graduated with me but decided law wasn’t for her, so she went back and got her library science degree. She was working as a librarian up until about six months ago when her grandfather died and left her his book shop. She’s fighting with another store around the block from her. I am fuzzy on the details, but she wants me to read over her paperwork before she files it. She says she’s a bit rusty.”
“Where is her shop?” Hawk asked. Lacy looked tired and there was definite pain in her eyes. It was obvious she really didn’t want to go out again tonight.
“Upper west side.”
“Don’t you and Logan live in Chelsea?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s a bit of a hike.”
“If you want, I can drop by for you. I’m not you, but I can certainly read over her suit and see if it needs any adjustments. That is, if she wouldn’t mind me helping out.”
“Would you?” Lacy asked, hope lighting her face. “I’m sure Remy won’t mind.”
“Absolutely.” He glanced at his watch. It was already after eight. “I’ll go now.”
“Oh, no. You need to finish your coffee and have dessert. Logan made some amazing cookies.”
He waved her off. “If you can give me another coffee to go, then I’m all good. The last thing I need is to taste one of Logan’s cookies. It will no doubt be delicious, and then I’ll be forced to eat half a dozen more, which I don’t need.”
Lacy smiled at him. “Coffee to go, I can do. Thanks, Hawk. I really appreciate it. I’ll tell Remy you’re coming.”
“It’s not a problem.” Or so he thought at the time.
CHAPTERTWO
Remington Tanger the Fourth gritted her teeth in frustration. “Yes, I see that you are here, but as you don’t seem to want to buy a book, I can’t help you.” It had been a long day in an even longer week, and she just didn’t have the energy to deal with this strange customer.
The tall man with a buzz cut and cold, dark eyes glared at her. “I have shoe.”
His accent was thick, and it had taken Remy a few tries to figure out what he was saying, but even though she now understood the words, she still had no idea what he meant. She glanced down at his feet. “Yes, you have shoes.” Did he mean that he was complying with the rule about wearing shoes and a shirt in order to get served? Wasn’t that only in restaurants?
She let out a long sigh and tried again. “Is there a book”—she gestured to the over-packed shelves around the cozy little shop— “you wanted to see?” Maybe that was the title of the book he wanted.I Have Shoes. It didn’t ring any bells for her, but there was always the possibility that it was a new arrival in children’s books. Emily, her assistant, had unpacked the new stuff last week. Remy didn’t remember ordering anything about shoes, but that didn’t mean much. Her brain was fried these days, so she could have easily done so without remembering.
“Is that the title of the book?” she asked as she turned and started behind the counter.
The big man reached out and grabbed her arm. He pulled her back and squeezed. “I have shoe,” he repeated, his voice hard and full of menace.
“Let go of me!” She jerked her arm, but his grip tightened. He was hurting her. Panic rose in her chest. Earlier in the week someone had grabbed her from behind and pushed her into her door as she was locking up for the night. He’d told her to stop writing letters if she knew what was good for her. By the time she’d recovered from her shock, he was gone. She didn’t want a repeat of that occurrence.
She took a deep breath. “Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want. If that’s the book title, then you need to let me check and see if we have it.” She tried to remain calm and patient, but her knees had changed into limp noodles. She’d taken Taekwondo when she was a kid and had her black belt, but that had been a lot of years ago, and she didn’t think her moves would work on a grown-ass man who was easily twice her size. He had to have at least a hundred pounds and twelve inches on her.
He shook her. “I have shoe,” he said between clenched teeth. “You help me.” When he shook her again, her teeth clicked together.
“Let me go!” she yelled and pushed him. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
He let out a grunt and dropped her arm. She immediately backed away from him and went for her phone behind the counter. When she looked up again, he was still bent over. He straightened slowly, and that’s when she saw the blood. His sweater was covered in it, but she hadn’t noticed because it was navy, and he wore a long black trench coat over it.
“Oh, my god, you’re hurt!” She keyed 911 into her phone. “You need help. You need a hospital.” She didn’t know if he was going to hurt her or pass out, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She reached under the counter and pulled out the only weapon she could find. A heavy flashlight.
“No!” He lunged at her, but she backed up raising the flashlight. He stopped and took a shallow breath. “No hospital. I have shoe. You help!” He leaned against the counter and tried to regain his breath. He was sweating profusely now, and he’d gone pale.
The operator came on. “I need an ambulance and the police,” she said and supplied the address.
The man glared at her and then lurched away from the counter. He stumbled up the steps and fled through the door.
She called after him, but he had gone down the block. She canceled the call and told the operator the man had left her shop. She gave all the details she could and then hung up the phone. Letting out a long breath, she bent and pressed her forehead on the counter for a minute. She fought her queasiness over what had been one of the scariest moments of her life. That made two this week. What the hell was wrong with people?
