Chapter 7- Callie

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The shelter had no need of me Sunday so I spent the day on a long run at my favorite park. The trail offered enough variation in terrain that I was able to get out of my head for a few hours, nothing but me and nature with the occasional other hiker or biker. The perfect reset to my week.

         I spoke too soon. First, the line for coffee is too long so I have to settle for the swill in the break room. At the morning meeting, the branch president announces a walkthrough with Damien Hamilton. Yes, that one with his family's name plastered all over the building. I've never met the man, but he sent a rigidly professional letter after my kidnapping about how the Hamilton Banks family would be behind me a hundred percent and my job would be there waiting for me when I was ready to return. I rolled my eyes so hard reading it, I almost gave myself a headache. His secretary more than likely wrote it, but at least he managed to sign it himself instead of just stamping it. Needless to say, the managers are on high alert that everything be done perfectly. Nearly half the staff have been given a verbal warning for the smallest infractions. Nicole and I make faces at each other to keep from laughing, but are promptly warned for that as well. We really do need to take up sign language for our work conversations like we've talked about a dozen times.

         Lunch cannot come soon enough. The café slash coffee shop down the street is a five-minute walk and we're out the door the minute we finish clocking out. It's loud, packed with the downtown lunch rush and we join the quickly moving line. "Can you believe this shit?" She groans as we move up closer. I'm half listening while I figure out my order like I won't order the same thing I always do.

         "The walk through?"

         "What else. Is it bad I kind of miss Sharon? At least she was predictable misery," she huffs. Perhaps a tad over dramatic, but I get it. Big bosses coming down is a pain anywhere, but especially with the string of robberies hitting them all over the state.

         "Yeah, but now I can breathe without coughing on her perfume. It's supposed to be a spritz, not a noxious cloud," I suppress a laugh at the mental image.

         "Agreed," she shudders. Looking up at how fast the line has moved, we duck our heads and move further up in line. A few people grumble behind us, but I ignore them. The food is good and I completely understand the desperate need for some afternoon coffee, but it's not that serious. "Don't look now," she starts and I immediately dart my head up as she sighs. "Girl, I just said don't look," she whispers out sternly. "Blond hair, back table, dressed like he has a degree and a desk job."

         "And probably a wife," I mutter. Small town problems. All the eligible bachelors get snatched up quick. With our spot in line, there's no subtle way to check out who she's checking out. I move to the side and bend to tie my flats, looking toward the back corner for her crush of the week. He takes a slow sip of what I would bet anything is tea and winks at me. I snap back up. "I've got to go. Bathroom. Urgent. Can you grab me my usual and I'll send you the money?"

"No worries. I've got you," she waves me off as I try my best not to stomp over there like a bull seeing red.

I'm going to kill him. A deep breath and I slow my steps. A scene is the last thing either of us needs. I'm not even sure if I should pretend not to know him. His midnight eyes track my path through the café, always hunting me. A year later and my cheeks still heat at the reminder of what happened last time he caught me. "Do you make a habit of stalking me?" I hiss out.

"Is that any way to talk to your master Pet?" The firm undertone of his question has my thighs quivering as I try to steel my spine.

I ignore him. "What are you doing here?"

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