Page 81 of Riptide
I want my money. TWO DAYS. You get me $50,000 in cash, or I burn your life to the ground. I'll post everything I have on you. Every document. Every inconsistency. Every lie. My followers will tear your fake identity apart in hours.
And then I'll go to your precious police chief and tell him exactly what I found. Let's see how protective he is when he knows the truth.
Don't test me. Don't stall. Don't play any more games.
--B
No emojis this time. No fake sweetness. Just cold, brutal threat.
Cara stared at the message, her hands trembling.
Their grand plans had backfired.
Cara looked around the room at her team. At the people who'd risked everything to help her. Who'd broken laws and crossed lines and asked for nothing in return except that she trust them.
"We need a new plan," she said quietly. "Something faster. Something that ends this for good."
"What did you have in mind?" Reagan asked.
"She's terrified of whoever cut her brake lines," Cara said slowly. "She doesn't know if it's connected to the fake FBI investigation or something else entirely."
Reagan scrunched up her nose. "So?"
"So maybe we use that." Cara met Reagan's eyes. "Maybe we give her a way out. A deal that protects both of us."
"You want to negotiate with her?" Wade's voice was skeptical.
"I want to get inside her operation." Cara took a breath. "Before the attack, she offered me a deal. I think it’s time to take her up on it."
Her phone buzzed again.
Another message from Blaire.
And Cara? Don't even think about running. I've got eyes on you.
Clock's ticking.
Cara set down the phone.
Ready or not, the endgame was here.
26
By two pm,Cara had burned three trays of croissants.
The first batch, she forgot to set the timer. The second, she set the oven too high. The third, she simply walked away and didn't come back until the smoke alarm started screaming.
Diane appeared in the kitchen doorway, fire extinguisher in hand, and gave her a look that managed to be both gentle and firm. "Go home."
"I'm fine. I just got distracted?—"
"You've been distracted all day. You're exhausted, you're stressed, and you're wasting product." Diane set down the extinguisher and crossed her arms. "I've got this. Go upstairs. Take a nap. Eat something. Whatever you need to do."
"Diane—"
"I'm not asking." Her voice softened. "Cara, I don't know what's going on with you. I'm not going to pry. But whatever it is, you're no good to anyone like this. Let me help by handling the bakery so you can handle... whatever else needs handling."
Cara wanted to argue. Wanted to insist she was fine, that she could push through, that she didn't need to be coddled.
