Smashwords version Sweet Surrender (15 page)

“Aye, aye, captain!” Viola stood up and
looked around the motel room. “And please move your stuff back to the apartment
today.  This place is creepy. Do you need any help?”

“No, I only have two suitcases. Everything
else is in storage. You’re going to read the note, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am going to read the note. I am
Viola Monique Aberdeen. I laugh at the rules of society; I cross in between,
not at the green. I slice the tags off mattresses even when they say do not remove
under penalty of law. I do what I am told not to.”

“You can’t read the note! I taped it shut!”

“Oh, scotch tape.  That’ll stop me. And now,
I should leave, because I guess I have a smut factory to run. See you there.
Come get the apartment key from me when you’re ready.” She flashed a wicked
grin at Poppy. “And I hope you surprise me by putting lots of dirty words in
the note, although knowing you it’s g-rated.”

Viola left, and for the first time in many
days, Poppy took a deep breath without feeling a stabbing ache in her heart.

Poppy paced the floor of Penelope’s – no, her – tiny
studio apartment, stomach roiling in fear.

She had a strange and unsettling case of déjà vu.  She
was wearing a pink negligee that she’d purchased from Sweet Surrender. Viola
let her have it on credit, as partial repayment of her bail money. She was
wearing pink silk mules trimmed with marabou feathers, with pointy little spike
heels.  She was showered and perfumed and had rubbed sweet swelling moisturizer
into her skin, and as a special surprise for Rafe, she’d shaved herself,
leaving only a little golden strip of hair on her gleaming pink sex.

And, just the same as the last time she’d sent Rafe a
note telling him to meet her in the apartment, she was so nervous she felt ill.

Had Rafe changed his mind in the past few days? Did he
still want her? Had he already moved on?

Viola had sworn to her that Rafe’s face had lit up like a
Christmas tree when Viola handed him the note, and he’d tried to hug her, and
she’d shoved him away and told him that if he ever lied to her friend again
she’d break his fingers.

She glanced at the clock on the wall for the millionth
time. It was 6:04. She’d told him to meet her at 6:00.

She struggled to quell her rising sense of panic.  Rafe
was compulsively punctual. Why was he late, tonight of all nights?

Maybe he really had changed his mind. Maybe she’d be
standing here all night like an idiot in her filmy negligee, in this drafty
room, until she died of pneumonia, and…

She heard boots thudding up the stairs, and her heart
started beating again. She rushed to open the door, heart floating as if it had
sprouted wings…

And Martin Gotschall burst into the apartment, shoving at
her, slamming the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” Poppy gasped in shock, staggering
back.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” His eyes were
bulging with rage. “You and your stupid bitch of a sister.”

Suddenly a picture of the man who’d picketed their bakery
flashed through Poppy’s mind. Big build, and the aggressive, forward thrusting
way he walked…it could easily have been Martin in disguise.

That must be what Viola had remembered when she’d seen
Martin walk away from them at the chamber of commerce meeting. That distinctive
walk. She just hadn’t been able to put two and two together, because he was
dressed so differently from the crazy guy picketing their store.

But that man’s face had been hidden under layers of dirt
and thick ropes of dirty hair, which could easily have been a wig. And the
bright blue eyes could have been contact lenses.

Stall, she thought frantically, backing away from him as
he advanced on her. Surely Rafe was coming for her. Wasn’t he?

“You were the one who convinced David to attack the
bakery, weren’t you?”

“For all the fucking good it did. You want something done
right, do it yourself.” He was between her and the doorway, his bulk blocking
any hope of escape.

“Why do you want this bakery so badly?” She was quaking
with terror inside, but she kept her voice even. She frantically scanned the
apartment for weapons; she had none. She didn’t even have long fingernails to
claw him with.

“I tried buying it from the old owner for years, but
she’d never sell.” His big meaty hands were balled up into fists. “Then I tried
to buy it from your sister. What the fuck is wrong with you people? It’s a
fucking piece of property. I offered money for it. When someone offers you
money, you sell!” He was towering over her now, his sour coffee breath washing
over her.

“Why this building?”

“Because I bought the businesses on either side of it,
because of the location, you stupid bitch! I’ve got a corporation interested in
investing in this block, but only if they can have the whole block. I’ve
invested a fortune buying up property here, I’m mortgaged to the hilt, and your
sister is the only thing standing in the way between me and millions of
dollars. Let’s see how much she wants to run this bakery after they find your
dead body upstairs. She’ll fucking give it away when the news gets out.”

“My sister sold it! She doesn’t even own it any more!”
Poppy cried frantically.

“Liar!” He hissed. “If she sold it, what are you doing
here?”

“I – it’s –“ She spluttered. It was too long and
complicated a story to explain. As if he’d listen to reason.

“I hate liars!” His eyes were bugging out of his head.
His hands closed around her throat.

Panic swelled inside her. Rafe wasn’t coming after all.

Summoning up memories from the self-defense classes she’d
taken in undergrad school, she raised her foot up and brought it down and stomped
on the top of his foot with the pointy spike heel, and he let go of her,
howling in pain.

Panic lent her wings and she dodged past him and ran out
the door, screaming.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rafe was standing, arms
wrapped around an enormous bouquet of flowers. Shock bloomed on his face at the
sight of Poppy, wild with fright, being pursued by Martin.

He dropped the flowers on the floor and rushed towards
her and Martin, face darkening with rage. “Get your goddamn hands off her!” he
bellowed.

Behind her, she felt hands clawing at her back, and she
tripped and fell, and the stairs were a whirling kaleidoscope, and there was an
explosion of pain and white stars sparking behind her eyes, and then the world
went black.

“She’s starting to come to…”

There were beeping noises, and a hum of voices off in the
distance and the cold disinfect smell of a hospital room. A blood pressure cuff
squeezed her upper arm, tightening painfully.  

Poppy’s head was pounding, and she squinted and blinked
several times before she finally opened her eyes.

“Oh, thank God!”

Who said that?

Viola and Rafe’s faces hovered above her blurrily. She
had to blink hard to get them to swim into focus.

“What happened?”

“We got him.  He’s under arrest for attempted murder.”
She could see Rafe’s lips moving, she could hear his voice, but the words
seemed to come from somewhere else.

“I don’t understand…”Poppy groaned. Her mouth felt thick
and dry. “Water,” she rasped.

Viola pressed a Styrofoam cup to her lips and tipped it
back, sending ice cold water rushing into her mouth.

“When we searched his apartment, we found a wig and stage
makeup and fake bad teeth and all those dirty clothes he wore when he picketed
your store. A few months ago, he saw Brian picketing your store, and he figured
it was his golden opportunity to get him to do his dirty work for him, so he
created a fake identity as a religious fanatic. He and Brian were supposed to
be on a holy mission together, to rid the world of sinners.  He took advantage
of Brian’s mental illness and manipulated him and set up that series of attacks
on the bakery.”

“So it’s over?”

“It’s well and truly over.” Rafe bent over and kissed her
forehead. “You just have a concussion. They did a CAT scan; you don’t have any
permanent damage.  You should be able to come home in a day or two, after the
doctor clears you.” He pressed his lips against her ear, warming her with his
breath, and whispered “And you’ll need all your strength. I have a homecoming
celebration planned for the two of us as soon as you’re up for it.”

She felt his hand closing around hers, warming it. She
closed her eyes and let herself relax.

The dark cloud of worry that had hovered over her for so
long had evaporated.  They were all safe now, she could sense it.  She had an
apartment. She had a job. Viola had the bakery. And she had Rafe, and he’d be
there for her forever, she could sense it in every cell of her body, in her
soul. It felt so right having him here by her side, like she’d been a puzzle
with a piece missing and he was the perfect fit, the piece that made her whole.

His hand tightened around hers and she let herself drift
away with a smile on her lips…

EPILOGUE

Rafe and Poppy moved in together in a one bedroom
apartment in the warehouse district of Port Rollins, and two months later, 
Rafe proposed to Poppy.  She agreed to marry him as soon as she gets her law
degree. She was accepted to the Port Rollins College of Law, and works part
time at Sweet Surrender. Rafe tells her all the details of every investigation
that he works on. Rafe and Poppy are among Sweet Surrender’s best customers,
but Poppy makes Rafe do the actual purchasing, because she’s too embarrassed.

Penelope hasn’t been heard from since she tried to get
Poppy to wire her money to an overseas account, claiming she needed bail money
because she’d been busted for smuggling drugs in Thailand.  Rafe traced the
email back to an internet café in England, and embarrassed Penelope by calling
the café and having her paged.

With Viola managing Sweet Surrender, the store became so
successful that she and Jeffrey ultimately ended up opening a chain of
franchises all over the country.

When Jeffrey and Viola got married, they invited all of
his friends and her friends, and the two groups didn’t get along with each
other at all, and they also invited all of the merchants from the warehouse
district, even Henry Chenowith. They naturally ordered a wedding cake designed
by their own bakers at Sweet Surrender, with buttercream sculptures so explicit
they made Poppy blush, although she still ate two extra large pieces, because
it was delicious.

Viola has promised that when she makes Rafe and Poppy’s
wedding cake, she will design a respectable smut free cake with no fornicating
couples anywhere to be seen. Her fingers were crossed when she promised,
however.

THE
END