Brutal Discoveries (3 page)

When Damon closed his notebook as his story came to an end, I felt like I would vomit.  Being the person I was, I didn’t want to judge him, that was God’s job, so I pushed all judgement aside, and said a silent prayer of thanks that he was incarcerated and not roaming the streets, still committing crimes.

“I freaked you out,” he surmised, a hint of defeat clouding his assessing eyes.

“No… I mean, yes.  But,” I stammered before swallowing to stall.  “What I mean to say is, yes, what you just shared freaked me, but I’ll be fine.  I’m a tough cookie,” I assured him.  “That’s not to say, your confession won’t cause me to have nightmares at some point,” I semi-joked.  Damon didn’t laugh.  He didn’t even give me a hint of a smile.  I realized instantly it was a poor way to try and break the awkward tension surrounding us.  Damon sensed the tension, too, and wisely changed the subject, asking me to tell him something about myself. 

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved baking.  Creating magic from my own two hands for people to devour brings me more pride than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.  It was good my mom didn’t mind a messy kitchen and always encouraged me to be creative.  When I turned eighteen, after I graduated, I started working fulltime at the bakery where I’d spent the previous three years doing after-school and weekend work.  I’d been there a further four years when the owner passed away and the business was closed down.  I was devastated – from the loss of my boss, the loss of my job, and the loss of a place I adored.  My parents, being the supportive people they are, let me grieve and then sat me down one night and presented me with a deal.  They’d help me open my own business.  Of course, I had dreamed about it, but it never really seemed like a real possibility, so I was immediately excited to take them up on their offer.  It took six months for me to find a location that was perfect to me, and then a further two months to redecorate it to have it the way I had always imagined.  A month after that, ‘Sweet Treats’ was opened for business.  That was six years ago and it’s been nothing less than successful,” I told him proudly. “Much to their dismay, I paid my parents back every cent they had poured into the bakery, plus interest, within the first three years.”

“They sound like good folks.”

“They are,” I agreed honestly.

“Visiting hours will finish in five minutes.  This is your five minute warning.  Say your goodbyes.”   The loud voice booming through the room startled me slightly and I briefly looked around before turning my attention back to Damon.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to go.”  I smiled softly at him.  He didn’t return it, but I didn’t expect him to.  “I’ll see you next time.”

“See you then,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll see about bringing in those cookies, too,” I informed him. 
That
got me a smile.

“Something to look forward to,” he stated. 

“Bye, Damon.” 

He gave me a swift nod of his head, and then I stood and exited South Glenn Maximum Security Prison.  Before I left, I stopped by the front desk and asked about bringing some baked goods in for an inmate.  I was given the go-ahead, so despite Damon’s chilling confession playing in the back of my mind, I made a conscious decision to tuck it away and instead concentrate on creating something amazing that would show him the talent I possessed. 

When I arrived home, I made myself a sandwich for a late lunch and decided to sit outside in the sunshine and read a magazine while I ate.  I was halfway through my food when my cell rang. I picked it up and glanced at the screen to see
Ella Calling
written on my display. 

“Hey, girlfriend,” I greeted with a smile on my face.

“Hey, babes, you back from that Hell you willingly visit?”

I laughed even as I took another bite of my sandwich.  “I am.”

“You feel like drinking some wine with me, or better yet, vodka?” she asked.

“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good.  I’m up for anything, honey, you know that.”

“I’ll be over soon.”

“See you then.”  I disconnected the call and finished off my food before taking my plate inside and rinsing the crumbs off.  Before Ella arrived, I made a quick phone call to my Sunday staff at the bakery to check how the day was going, like I did every time I wasn’t able to be there.  When Macy told me the raspberry coconut jumbo cookies, that were part of that day’s special, had sold out before the lunch rush arrived, I felt my eyes bulge in my head.  That had to be a record.  After advising her to choose something else to include in the special for the rest of the afternoon, I ended the call and couldn’t resist doing a little happy dance.  It didn’t matter to me how many successes we had, or how many goals we reached, whether they were big or small, every achievement was one to be celebrated, because it was a testament to me following my dreams, and it was an even bigger testament to my parents for encouraging me to follow those dreams.  I was still smiling broadly as I heard my front door open, and I looked that way to see Ella walking through with her arms full.

I raised my brows and smirked.  She had a bottle of vodka tucked under one arm and a bottle of wine held securely in her fingers.  Her other hand held a plastic bag, that from one glance I could tell were chocolates, chips, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.  I knew it would be our favorite – triple chocolate brownie delight – and suddenly I was hungry for ice cream.

“Wow, you went all out,” I muttered as I helped her unload.  I was right about the ice cream.  “What’s up?”

“I’m going to need at least two drinks before we get into
that
conversation… possibly three,” she added after pondering for a beat.

“I’ll pour,” I offered as I turned and reached above me to take two glasses from my cabinet.  Once we had our cups full – mine with wine, Ella’s with vodka on ice with a splash of orange juice – we made our way outside.  We sat down, and after two sips of my wine and a square of chocolate, Ella still hadn’t broken the silence that had ensued since we left the kitchen. 

“Damon Salt has been reading me entries from his journal,” I shared.  “Last  time was about his shitty childhood, growing up with drug addict parents and being treated badly by them right up until the day he came home from school and found them both dead from overdoses,” I continued, ignoring Ella’s shocked expression I could see from the corner of my eye as she sat beside me.  “Today was worse.  He told me all about the first time he committed robbery… and raped the woman.”

“
What the fuck?
” Ella shrieked. 

“I’ve decided I prefer to think of it as him reading a fiction novel he’s writing.”

“Are you high?” she shouted.  “He’s a damn rapist, a thief, and a
murderer.
  God only knows what other secrets he’s got hidden inside that evil heart of his.”

“And he’s paying for those crimes,” I snapped.  “He’s spent the past twenty-something years in prison, and he’ll continue to be there until the day he dies.  It isn’t for us to judge, Els,” I said gently. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” she huffed.

“I don’t need your support, Ella, but it sure would be nice to have your understanding.”

Her shoulders slumped and she turned so she fully facing me.  “I may not get it, but you’ve always got my support, Scar,” she conceded, touching my arm lightly.  I smiled at her softly, then we finished off our drinks, and I got us both refills.  We chatted as we drank, and only after she had consumed half of her second vodka, did Ella tell me what was on her mind.

“So, I worked this morning at the bakery,” she stated, and I nodded, because I was the boss, and I knew this.  “Hashtag Dreamy came in, followed shortly after by Hashtag Hottie.  It was early, not even eight a.m., and they both ordered the special.”

“Okay.” I drew out the word when she didn’t go on.  Part of me was slightly bummed I had missed seeing Hashtag Hottie, but hopefully he would come in again while I was working so I could see the glorious view all of him provided.

“I made a complete fool of myself, Scarlett,” she whined.  “I rushed to serve Dreamy and tripped over my own two feet, righting myself just before I fell into the counter, nearly knocking myself unconscious
and
gaining myself a giant, ugly bruise on my head,” she said dramatically.  I swallowed a giggle.  “I was beet red, I could feel it. Still, I served him like I hadn’t just made a complete ass of myself.  Then, as I was making his coffee, I glanced over to look at him, saw he was turned away from me, and ended up getting lost in his
fucking amazing
backside.  This meant I burned myself on the steam from the coffee I was making.  I dropped the coffee, swore like a sailor, and raced out back to run my hand under cold water.”

I gasped and chided her.  “Ella!  You know better than that.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it was just a little bit red, and the water soothed it.  So I went back out, finished making his coffee, which by that time, Hashtag Hottie had made an appearance, and Macy was serving him.  When I took Dreamy his coffee, my hands were shaking so much from nerves, which I
never
get, so what the fuck? Plus, I had a light red welt from the burn, which matched the redness in my cheeks that just wouldn’t fuck off.  I placed his coffee down, sloshing it a little because I was shaking so much.  Then he grabbed my hand and inspected the burn before, I kid you not, bringing my hand to his lips and
kissing
the redness!  My knees went weak, and I swear to God, Scar, I almost fainted.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed.

“Yeah,” she continued, sounding dejected.  “Then he paid and he and Hashtag Hottie just left.  Like it didn’t even happen.  Like he goes around soothing coffee machine burns with those full, delicious lips of his on bakery staff every day of his fucking life,” she huffed before she slurped back the rest of her drink.

“Maybe he had somewhere he had to be?” I suggested, trying to placate her. 

“I’m just a fool, and fair warning, Scar, if they ever come in again, I’m not serving them,” she declared.

“Okay, honey.”

“I need ice cream,” she muttered as she stood and walked inside to get the tub of Ben & Jerry’s. 

“Two spoons,” I called after her.  For the rest of the afternoon, we ate junk food and consumed drinks – me, not as many as Ella, considering I had to work the next morning and she didn’t.  She was sloshed, I was slightly buzzed.  After I ordered us some Chinese food, we ate it, then I helped Ella into my spare bed, and then took a shower before collapsing into bed myself.  I fell asleep thinking about Hashtag Hottie, hoping he would come into ‘Sweet Treats’ again, and soon.

Three days later, I was in the kitchen, pulling a tray of almond and coconut cookies from the oven before sliding in two trays of white chocolate and raspberry muffins.  Ella and my other casual employee, Sammi, were out front serving, and I was rushing to get back out to them.  We were busy.  So busy I had put a call into Macy to see if she could come in and help for a couple of hours before she went to her afternoon classes.  She would be here any minute now.  The timer above my other oven beeped and I dashed that way to pull out the steaming hot cheesy bacon rolls I had made.  I replaced the rolls with a tray of savory muffins, before turning back to my stainless steel counter and turning the rolls out to cool for a few minutes.

The line behind the counter was long, and I felt my eyes widen. 
Holy crap.
  If this kept up, I would have to invest in another register. 

“Good morning.  Can I help you?”  As I spoke, Macy came up beside me, tying on her apron. 

“Morning, boss,” she said through a grin as she passed me and headed toward the cookie case.

“Hi, can I get two large lattes and two of those delicious looking caramel pecan brownies?” the customer asked, pointing to the case that held today’s special.

“Sure thing.”  I took her cash and she pointed to where she was sitting with a guy about her age.  “I’ll bring it over to your table.”  I quickly made the coffees and served the brownies onto plates before dusting them with some powdered sugar.  Then I took their order to them and went back to serving. 

“What the heck is going on?  We’ve been busy, but never
this
busy.  I mean it’s good, but this is crazy,” I whispered to Ella as I stood by her at the coffee machine.  She was finishing off her order of cappuccinos with the milk steamer, and I was filling my order of six coffees to-go.

“I know!  Maybe there’s something going on in town?” she guessed.

The rush continued for hours, and I alternated my time between serving customers and making more baked goods in the kitchen.  It was mid-afternoon before the customers died down to a steady trickle.  Macy had to get to her classes, so she had left a couple of hours ago, but was thankful she helped us out through that madness. 

“I’m beat,” I sighed, collapsing onto the chair in my office.

“Me too,” Ella agreed.

We quickly ate our late lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, and downed the strong coffees I had made us, before returning to the front so Sammi could take her break.

“Oh, shit,” I heard Ella mutter, panic lacing her tone.  I looked over to her to watch her turn and escape out into the kitchen.  My eyes swept instantly to the entry and I saw Hashtags Hottie and Dreamy stalking through.  Lord have mercy.  At the sight of them, Hottie in particular, my breath seized in my lungs, and I had to force myself to pull it together so I could serve them.

“Good afternoon, guys.  What can I get you?” I asked in my most cheerful voice, ignoring the nervous shake that managed to get through.

“Two coffees, thanks.” His eyes dropped down to where my name was embroidered in eggshell blue on my shirt.  “Scarlett.”  The way my name wrapped around Hashtag Dreamy’s tongue was hot, but I had a feeling it would be even
hotter
coming from Hashtag Hottie.

“No worries,” I chirped, denying myself the urge to look beside Dreamy to where Hottie stood for fear of having an accident not akin to Ella’s.  I made their coffees.

“Two sugars in one.”  I didn’t even have to look to know the deep, rumbling voice came from Hashtag Hottie.  I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I refused to look.  A shiver slid over my skin in a delicious crawl.  I brought their coffees back to them.

“Any pastries, guys?”

“Two ‘a those cookies,” Dreamy answered, pointing to the macadamia dark chocolate cookies in the case.  I placed two in boxes and handed them to him, then took Dreamy’s money and returned his change.

“Have a great day,” I said, letting my gaze sweep over Hottie, whose eyes were still pinned on me, even as he took his coffee from Dreamy.

“Later,” Dreamy said, tilting his coffee toward me in an attempted wave.  I smiled friendly-like.

“Later,” Hashtag Hottie said, but unlike Dreamy, whose ‘later’ was like nothing more than a goodbye, Hottie’s was said as a promise, and the fuck of it was, I hoped like hell he meant it. 
Oh god, I was so screwed
. 

“Are they gone?” Ella whisper-shouted.

“Yes, you’re safe,” I muttered back.

“Why does he have to be
so
hot?” she whined as she nabbed a chocolate drizzled raisin cookie and began nibbling on it.

“Some people are just blessed, babe.” I grinned at her and started tidying up.  Ella left not long after to get to an appointment across town, and Sammi walked out just five minutes before I did.  I gathered my handbag, closed down my computer, and walked through the bakery admiring it, like I did every time it was just me, alone in my space, feeling the goodness that was my dreams coming true.  I kept on walking, rounding the cash registers that I had not long rung off, and passed by the now-empty glass cases that would be well stocked again by the time the doors opened for business in the morning.  I stepped through the door and locked it, before double-checking it was actually locked.  Then I spun on my heel to begin the short, brisk walk home, but I stopped short and a startled scream got lodged in my throat when I ran smack into a brick wall that was blocking my way.

I looked up, and up some more, until my eyes found his.

Hashtag Hottie.

Not a brick wall.  A hunk.

He looked down at me and my stomach dipped as a smile twitched his lips, likely from the shocked expression I wore.

“Uh, um, sorry,” I stammered as I tried to skirt around him.  He blocked my path and the lip twitch turned into a smirk.  My heart thudded in my chest and I suddenly realized I was right earlier, thinking his ‘later’ was a promise.  He should have said ‘soon’ or something like that.

“Scarlett,” he rasped, and again, I was right when I thought my name wrapped around his tongue would be a sound I would never tire of hearing.

“Yes?” I croaked, even though his saying my name wasn’t a question.  “Who’re you?”

“Aden West,” he replied, and my tummy did a flutter.  From across the counter at ‘Sweet Treats’, he was big, but up close,
this
close, he was freaking huge.             

“Well… uh… nice to meet you, Aden West,” I stated, then, again, I tried to skirt him, and
again
, he blocked me.

“You eat?”

“In general? Yes, doesn’t everyone?” I felt my brows knit together at the sudden change of direction in the conversation.  “If you mean have I eaten since my late lunch, then the answer would be no,” I shared. 

His lips twitched again. “Hungry?”

I was, but I wasn’t telling him that.  Just because he looked slightly familiar, and he had been coming into my bakery every few days for the past couple of weeks, didn’t mean he wasn’t a bad guy.  “Not really.”

“Let me take you to Sherman’s.”  It was another statement.  Sherman’s was a rock ‘n’ roll café, with 60s décor and reminded me of ‘Happy Days’, so much so, every time I stepped inside I was waiting for Fonzy and Richie to appear.  Plus, the food was freaking awesome. 

“I really shouldn’t,” I stalled, trying not to let him see that I
really
wanted Sherman’s a lot.

He stepped further into me and my breath hitched, paralyzing any thought I had to escape, not that I actually had any of those thoughts.  He was at least eight inches taller than my five foot five, and when he leaned down and I got a whiff of his cologne, I thought my knees would give out on me.

“Don’t often say this, but
please
come to dinner with me.”  His voice had turned soft and sweet, and when I chanced a look into his blue depths, I found them so melty that my entire body seemed to turn to mush. 

“Okay,” I breathed, unable to do anything else except agree with him.  If he had asked me to board a space shuttle with a one-way ticket to Mars using that voice and those melty eyes, I would have said yes in an instant.  I was so screwed.  His lips twitched and the creases of his eyes crinkled in a way that was
way
sexy. His index finger came up to my chin and he traced a line, down my neck, across my collarbone to my shoulder, and then down my arm, leaving a trail of fiery goosebumps behind him.  I licked my lips and his eyes instantly dropped to my mouth, and I watched with fascination as his eyes turned from melty to
molten.
  When his finger reached my hand, he weaved our fingers together, and guided us to the end of the block, where Sherman’s was located on the corner. 

Aden chose the booth and I slid into one side while he took the other.  His legs were so long, they were touching mine and I couldn’t contain the heat that smoldered through my body from the tips of my toes to my scalp.  He was insanely good looking.  In fact, he was probably the hottest guy I had ever laid eyes on, and most definitely the hottest guy who had ever touched me.  His dark hair was buzzed short, and that smattering of stubbly facial hair lining his jaw only intensified the indigo in his assessing gaze.  Throughout the waitress coming over in her rock ‘n’ roll sixties uniform and taking our drink orders, to her returning with our milkshakes and taking our food orders, both Aden and I remained silent.  Every now and then, I chanced a look at him from the menu I was perusing studiously, even though we had already ordered.  Each time, I found him watching me intently.  I felt uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, in a totally
good
way. 

“You own Sweet Treats, or just work there?” he said, breaking the silence.

“Own it.  The building was solid when I bought it, but the interior was lacking, to say the least.  I spent a couple months fixing everything up, painting, decorating, all of that, with the help of my parents and some professionals,” I rambled before snapping my mouth shut.  His lips twitched, like he was amused at my verbal diarrhea.

“Did good, babe,” he remarked. 
Babe
.  Holy crap, that almost sounded better coming out of his mouth than my name did. 
Almost.

“You, um –,” I cleared my throat in an effort to shake off the warm giddy feeling I had from him calling me
babe
, and went on.  “You like our coffee?  I haven’t seen you before a couple weeks ago, and now you’re becoming a regular,” I explained unnecessarily, because apparently, in the presence of a super-hot dude, I was a dork.  

“Used to live on the north side of the city, now I’ve bought a loft on the south side. Tried a few joints, then yours.  Liked your coffee, the atmosphere, the service.”

“That’s great,” I replied, smiling huge, once again proud of my business.

“It’s not only the great coffee that’s got me coming back, though,” he murmured cryptically as our burgers and fries were set on the table in front of us.  I wanted to ask him what he meant, but the smell of the burger wafted up my nose, and suddenly I was super hungry.  So I dug in.   The burgers at Sherman’s tasted even better than they smelled, if that were possible.  Thick, juicy meat covered in melted cheese, onions, pickles, and ketchup… they were divine.  Once we had finished and the waitress collected our empty plates, I chanced a look at Aden.  It was no surprise his eyes were on me. 

“Thanks for dinner,” I said softly.

“You related to Damon Salt?” he enquired, and even though his words were short, his face was gentle-like.

I felt my brow knit in confusion.  How the heck did Aden West know that I knew Damon Salt?

“Scarlett,” he growled in prompting me to answer.

“No,” I responded, and it came out sounding as confused as I felt. “What’s going on?”

“You’re
not
related to him?”

“No,” I snapped.

“How do you know him?”

“What’s this about?” I repeated.

Before he had a chance to answer, I had a sudden realization that my made my heart drop into the depths of my stomach.  I knew.  I
knew.
  For whatever reason, Aden was trying to find dirt on Damon, and he somehow knew I had been visiting him.  So, he had asked me to dinner to try and get whatever dirt I knew – even though I knew none, except what was written in his journal, which I suspected the police already knew anyhow.  That wasn’t why I suddenly felt sick and foolish, though.  I felt that way because Aden wasn’t asking me to dinner because he
wanted
to dine with me.  I was
such
an idiot.  With that realization came the threatening burn of tears of humiliation, and I wasn’t about to let him see me cry.  I grabbed my handbag, took out some bills, and tossed them on the table as I maneuvered myself from the booth.

“I have to go,” I rushed out, and my voice sounded thick from the tears I was trying to keep at bay.

“Sit down and listen,” he growled, his jaw tight and tense.

“Tell me why you want to know how I know Damon Salt.”