In the bakery kitchen,Holt kneaded fondant, working in the blue food coloring with hard, almost violent strokes. He’d have felt better with a gun or knife in his hands, but this fight with Arthur Raynor wasn’t the kind he’d been trained for. To end this, he had to play a different sort of game. One that went against most of his better instincts. But the plan was solid, all the pieces in place, with multiple fail-safes. He refused to believe that Raynor was smarter than the team he’d put together to do this.
He just had to get through tonight. Then he could go home and make up with his wife. The drive back from Johnson City had been awful. Everything in him had wanted to comfort Cayla. To pull the 4-Runner over, drag her into his arms, and erase the distance between them. But just in case Raynor was watching them, it needed to look like they were rocky. Everything hinged on that.
Holt checked the clock. Nearing nine. Almost showtime.
The air in the kitchen was stuffy, so he propped open the back door to let in some of the cool night breeze. Music played over the Bluetooth speaker. No show tunes or Disney tonight. The driving rock kept his blood up, ready for action, though it was highly unlikely Raynor would give him a reasonable opportunity to use his fists. More was the pity. He’d relish the chance to take the guy on in an honest, man-to-man brawl. A guy like that wouldn’t last a minute. He had soft hands. The kind that probably didn’t even know how to make a real fist. No, Raynor preferred to take on unsuspecting victims. Innocents. All so he could maintain his attitude of total superiority. Holt had to remember that and cater to it.
If the asshole actually showed.
God, he hoped he was doing the right thing.
The front door opened right at nine. The guy was prompt.
Holt continued working the fondant as Raynor glanced around the front, taking it in as if he’d never seen it before. His expression said he wasn’t impressed. That wasn’t Holt’s concern.
“Come on back.” He jerked his head toward the swinging door.
Arthur pushed through. He wore dress pants and a button-down shirt that fit him so impeccably that they had to be tailored. His brown dress shoes were polished to a gleam and squeaked with every step. He stopped just inside the kitchen, his gold eyes scanning the room with clear contempt.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you.”
I’ll bet you were.
As the fondant was now a consistent robin’s egg blue, Holt folded it in plastic wrap and stripped off his gloves before putting it in the cooler. He let the door fall shut with a thump. “Yeah, well, you haven’t left me a lot of choice. So I figured we’d handle this man-to-man.”
A glint of intrigue lit Raynor’s otherwise bland expression. “I’m listening.” He pulled something out of his pocket. A coin of some kind. He began to walk it from knuckle to knuckle on his left hand.
Needing to keep moving, Holt wiped down his workstation. “I’m ceding the field.”
One blond brow arched up. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m pulling out of this whole situation. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve cut me and my business partners off at the damned knees.”
The other man’s lips twitched. “It appears someone else got there first.”
Holt didn’t allow himself to react to the jab. A guy like this would absolutely see him as less, as broken. Now wasn’t the time to prove him wrong. He had to play exactly as Raynor saw him. So thinking, he limped a little as he moved around the table, wiping away debris.
“Cayla was yours first. The kid’s yours. They’re not worth losing my future, my business. And I can’t afford for you to decide to go after my sister. God knows Hadley’s just gotten on her feet. I’m not gonna be the reason she fails. And I can’t risk you going after my surrogate mother or anybody else I care about. They were in my life first. They’ll be in my life last. I’m not losing everything over a woman or a brat that’s not mine. So I’m letting you know I’m out. You’ve won.”
Raynor’s lips curved, the unholy light of victory brightening his face. “And why did you bring me out here for that?”
“Because I knew you’d want to look into my face as I had to admit I wish I’d never gotten involved with them in the first place.” And Holt let the frustration and irritation at that show. For all the man thought him less, he’d understand that such an admission would be a blow to Holt’s pride. “And because I want to make a deal.”
“A deal?” Faint surprise crept into that upper crust voice. “You don’t seem to be in a position to negotiate. What do you have that I want?”
Throughout the conversation, Holt had hoped Raynor would say something that qualified as an admission of guilt. But as he’d expected, the guy was too careful for that. So he braced himself to pull the metaphorical trigger and do the thing he’d come here to do. “I’m in your way. As long as Cayla thinks she has me, she’ll hold out against you. But if that’s taken away? She folds. She’s already so damned close.”
Arthur hummed a noncommittal note. “So you’re suggesting that you will get out of my way in exchange for…?”
“Money. Ten grand. It’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things. Certainly to a guy like you. But it’s enough to save my business. Transfer it to me tonight, and I’ll make it easy on you and file for divorce tomorrow.”
The hissed breath came from behind him, and Holt knew even before he heard her voice.
“How could you?”
Fuck.
He turned, catching one glimpse of Cayla’s ashen, horrified face in the open doorway before she backed away and ran. Her steps echoed on the wood planks of the wrap-around porch.
Everything in him wanted to race after her. But if he did, all this would probably be for nothing. He had to stick to the plan.
With a sigh, he turned back to face Raynor, who appeared infinitely amused by the proceedings.
“That changes nothing,” Holt began.
The other man laughed. “Oh, you are delusional. I don’t need you to do anything. She’ll do it on her own. But I do thank you for the show.” He turned to go.
“Wait!”
With a bored air, he looked back. “What?”
“Forget the money. Can I at least have your assurance you won’t touch anybody else connected to me? You got what you want. Me out of the way. There’s no reason for you to target them.”
Raynor merely huffed another laugh and walked out.
Holt forced himself to wait until the front door had closed. He shut off the speaker and listened for the sound of a car engine driving away. The moment Raynor was gone, he was dialing Cayla’s number.
Of course, she didn’t answer.
He let out a stream of curses until the voicemail kicked on. “Cayla, honey, it’s not what you think. I swear, it’s not. Just give me a chance to explain.”
The moment he hung up, he sent her a text to the same effect.
But no reply was forthcoming. Hell, she was probably still driving. But to where? Not home. He could only assume that Donna, or possibly Mia, was at the house with Maddie. She wouldn’t take this upset to where her daughter would see.
Think, think, think.
Where the hell would she go? Panic bubbled just beneath the surface as he reviewed the options and came up with nothing.
Locking the doors, he quickly set the alarm and dove into his 4-Runner, intent on tracking down his wife before she did something neither of them could take back.