As I waddle through the kitchen, I pass the wine-colored dress hanging on the back of the office door on a wire hanger. Even after Kane dropped me off here at three in the morning, I was sober enough to know that if I left it on the floor, I’d never forgive myself.
Below it, on the seat of my desk chair, is the envelope containing the settlement.
We’ll come back to that later.
First, I need to see who’s trying to break down my door.
The bakery is dark except for the emergency lights over the ovens. Snow presses gray against the front windows.
A huge figure shadows the glass. At first, before my eyes clear, I get a lurch of fear in my stomach. I’m extremely grateful that Kane sent that repair guy to install the most insane lock I’ve ever seen in my life.
Then my vision resolves and I
