Author's note: Here's the sequel to Chapter 44 in this series. I've enjoyed everyone's guesses about what's really going on — I hope you'll like the direction I took this story! Thanks for sending me your reviews; they keep me motivated!
"Wealth without virtue is no harmless neighbor."
― Sappho
Caroline's thoughts were racing as she recalled all those nagging little moments when she questioned the odd inner workings of Klaus' business model. How they only received a handful of customers throughout the week and yet somehow maintained funding for their enterprise. How the same number of online orders appeared several times each week. Or the fact that their creepy, unmarked, windowless delivery van parked outside never seemed to go on pie deliveries. Or how they were ridiculously vague about what cause they were supporting.
As she eyed the room critically, it made sense now why there was no decor to speak of — everything was very stark and clinical and other than a random poster of the African continent on one wall, there were no clues to indicate that their pies were for fundraising. It was the perfect cover; using a charity to launder their drug profits. Realizing the incredible danger she was in, she quickly exited the store, planning to regroup at her house with a bottle of wine and the largest tub of caramel brownie-laden ice cream she could find. And then another bottle of wine. And possibly another until she could forget the wildly misplaced regret she felt when she realized that she couldn't possibly be around Klaus anymore now that she knew who he really was. It was just a stupid crush and she would get over it. Probably.
Her plans were interrupted when Marcel startled her, calling out, "Caroline! Any chance you could take a look at our site now?" His warm brown eyes twinkled as he added gleefully, "Lucien is about to tear his hair out; which will just make that little bald spot in the back more noticeable."
Sighing, she rubbed her forehead, grumbling, "Fine. But with the day I'm having, I need a bigger bribe than a muffin."
He nodded eagerly and with a mock serious tone he said, "Understood. One enormous slab of praline fudge cake coming up." Linking his arm with hers, he led her into Malcontent Coffee, bypassing the main counter in favor of the back office. He gestured to an office chair beside a small table and told her he'd be right back with her delicious bribe.
Already salivating at the thought of the decadent dessert, she almost forgot her recent discovery about the trio across the street. Sighing heavily, she chose to push those chaotic thoughts from her mind as she needed more time to decide if she was going to the police with her suspicions or if she should just avoid them and keep her mouth shut.
The frozen computer screen in front of her caught her eye and she grimaced when she saw the poor coffee shop guys were experiencing the "spinning wheel of death" so common with that model. Deciding to get started, she used a few hot key tricks that finally unlocked the system. Once inside, she intended to do a quick search for their design software, but instead she found several tabs open to multiple spreadsheets. As she went to minimize them, she couldn't help but notice that the spreadsheets appeared to be for the same quarter with the same transactions listed. However, what caught her attention was the drastic variation in profits reported. One spreadsheet showed significantly higher profits — tens of thousands of dollars higher.
Standing up abruptly, she attempted to calm her racing heart as she tried to make sense of what she'd seen. It was too much of a coincidence that she would stumble across two different instances of illegal activity in one day — clearly they were connected. But how? Maybe Klaus and his friends were dealing coke out of their shop and Marcel and Lucien laundered the money? That was a thing, right? Drug dealers couldn't just walk into a bank and deposit their profits; they needed a middle man to keep away the police and IRS.
Legs shaking, Caroline realized she needed to get out of there before Marcel and Lucien realized she was onto them. Unfortunately, before she could make her escape, Marcel returned, his normally friendly smile replaced with something cold and calculating that made her stomach sink. He was gripping a handful of long zip ties and a roll of duct tape. She impulsively put the rolling black office chair between them, as though it would somehow prevent him from attacking her.
She shakily gestured toward his creepy kidnapper supplies and said, "Those don't look like the dessert bribe I was expecting. I'm not sure what kind of IT folks you've used before, but they seem to offer more exotic services than what I provide."
Marcel quickly whipped out a black handgun, pointing it at her with ease. His tone was casual, as though they were merely continuing their discussion from earlier about his computer issues. "You know, Caroline, at first, we thought you were playing the long game — casually visiting the store a few times a week to earn our trust and learn all our dirty little secrets. After all, you just happened to start volunteering across the street the instant Klaus and his crew opened up their shop." He cocked his head to the side, studying her carefully. A sly grin spread across his face as he mockingly told her, "But we've been watching you all this time and finally figured it out — you have no idea what's going on, do you?"
Despite the fact that she had a gun pointed at her, she could feel her temper flare at his condescending tone. "Klaus and his friends are drug dealers and they use your business to launder their money." At Marcel's amused expression, she angrily threw up her hands, yelling, "Or with all the random animosity between your two shops, maybe you guys are rival drug lords and you're pissed that Klaus is moving in on your turf."
He laughed heartily, his gun only wavering slightly as he seemed to thoroughly enjoy her enraged expression. "That's fucking hilarious. Klaus and his friends aren't dealers, you nitwit. They're all undercover cops trying to bust our operation. We use the coffee shop as a legit cover while we move our product."
Klaus was a cop? There was a uniform to go with that sexy accent? She chastised herself for having ridiculously inappropriate thoughts at a time like this and responded in irritation, "I don't get why you're involving me in your mess though; I'm nobody special."
Marcel's twisted grin as he stepped closer to her filled her with revulsion. "That's where you're wrong. You're very special — to Klaus." At her incredulous expression, he laughed. "He's terrible at hiding how he feels about you. You should have seen him the other day, pacing back and forth in the parking lot clutching a stupid sunflower and rehearsing what he was going to say to you. But then he managed to fumble his words with you and just left the sunflower on the counter where you assumed Enzo had brought it in for Rebekah."
She gasped at his revelation, everything falling into place now that Marcel filled in the missing pieces. She had been in deep design mode, barely acknowledging Klaus when he walked into the shop because she was trying to resolve a frustrating broken links issue. He had mumbled a few phrases while she was working, but she only nodded at him, not really paying attention. Later on, she couldn't figure out why Klaus had been so grumpy, and now she realized it was because she'd clearly missed his carefully crafted speech.
Marcel interrupted her thoughts, continuing his explanation. "The moment we realized his team had incriminating surveillance on our operation, we realized we needed to make a trade — your life for the footage." He grabbed her, tightly binding her wrists together and forcing her back into the chair where he proceeded to also bind her ankles.
Caroline hated how fear had seemed to paralyze her. She knew she should be doing something, but it was all too much to handle and she couldn't stop staring at the gun. Despite the fact that he had set it down when he grabbed her, the inherent threat of violence made her uncharacteristically submissive. On TV, guns always seemed shiny and bigger somehow, but the dull black finish of the one he'd pointed at her was more sinister. Because it was real. She realized that even if Klaus and his team gave Marcel and Lucien the evidence they had on them, there was still no guarantee she would survive this nightmare. She needed a plan.
"Lucien will be contacting Klaus and his team soon, so just sit there quietly while we negotiate the trade," Marcel explained with a wink. "You and Klaus will be back to your painfully awkward will-they-won't-they interactions before you know it."
She eyed the piece of gray duct tape he held between his fingers. Furious despite her growing fear, she spat, "Go to hell. And FYI — your honey corn muffins taste like soggy Corn Flakes. And another thing —"
The rest of Caroline's colorful diatribe was cut off by the sticky duct tape Marcel slapped over her mouth. He chuckled at the rage he detected in her glare. "I'll be sure to pass along your critiques to our kitchen staff. Now sit tight and I'll be back to collect you once we've reached an agreement with Klaus and his team."
Once her captor was gone, she started tugging uselessly at the thick black plastic on her wrists and ankles. At least Marcel had bound her hands in front of her, so it was slightly less uncomfortable than it could be. She started to remove the tape that was uncomfortably pulling at her skin, but she hesitated to do anything that obvious to show she wasn't cooperating. Not that she was going to just sit there.
Once he told her that he and Lucien intended to trade her for incriminating surveillance of their drug operation, she started thinking of ways she could help put Marcel and Lucien away. She had no guarantees that she'd survive this and she wasn't about to trust the man who tied her up at gunpoint. The spreadsheets — the ones that showed two vastly different profit margins for the coffee shop — that was the evidence that could be used against Marcel and Lucien.
She marveled that her captor left her alone with their laptop, but she assumed he must have thought the programs were still frozen and that she'd be too afraid to move from her chair to investigate. But he didn't realize how well she could multi-task — she could be afraid and snoop around his laptop at the same time. Unfortunately, she didn't have Klaus' email, so she couldn't send him the files she discovered, which meant she'd have to improvise.
Crossing her fingers that Klaus actually followed her instructions and was reviewing the website like she asked, she quickly logged in as an admin and placed an enormous text box in the middle of their landing page with the message, "Help! Marcel and Lucien have me in their shop. Attached these files from their computer — Caroline." It was a challenge typing with her wrists bound together, but she felt a small smile of triumph try to form around her duct tape as she uploaded a zip file she created that included not only their incriminating spreadsheets but also several suspicious-looking files with what looked like code names, places and dates. She quickly shutdown the laptop when she heard footsteps coming back to the office where she was being held.
Marcel poked his head inside with a disturbingly cheerful grin. "It's your lucky day, Caroline. Klaus readily agreed to our terms and says he'll come alone with the evidence against us at the old warehouse outside of town. "This will all be over soon," he breezily said, pulling her to her feet and leading her out of the room.
Caroline watched Klaus cautiously approach the abandoned warehouse through a broken window upstairs. His jaw was clenched and while he held his hand up to show he was unarmed, it was clear from his twitching fingers that he wanted to curl them into fists and punch something. As he crossed the threshold, he called out, "Caroline?! Has he hurt you?"
She felt the thick plastic digging into her skin, causing her hands to tingle as the circulation was cut off. She grimaced as Marcel lightly pressed the barrel of his gun between her shoulder blades. Somehow managing to keep her voice from shaking, she yelled down at him, "I'm fine! But seriously, there has to be an easier way to get my attention, Klaus!"
She could hear the faintest hint of surprised amusement in his tone as he answered, "This seems rather effective, sweetheart."
Marcel roughly pushed her into a dusty corner of the upstairs loft, commanding her, "Stay there." He waved his gun at her one last time before descending the rusting stairs. He stopped halfway across the room, leveling his gun at Klaus' head. "Toss the USB drive to me. Once I've left, you can go rescue your girl."
Klaus nodded curtly, simply telling him, "Next time," and then threw the device at Marcel's feet.
"There won't be a next time, Klaus. Lucien and I have already made plans to disappear." He gave Klaus a mocking salute with the drive, keeping his gun pointed at him as he slowly backed out of the warehouse.
Klaus' heavy footsteps were thudding up the stairs toward her before Lucien drove their getaway vehicle out of the parking lot. The concern she saw in his gray eyes caused a lump to form in her throat and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep from crying. She hated feeling weak, but Marcel and Lucien took away her power with their actions and she wasn't sure when she would feel safe again.
"Sweetheart, are you alright," he asked, quickly cutting off her restraints and eyeing her closely for injuries.
She leaned into the warmth of his touch, drawing strength from him. "I'm fine. They didn't hurt me. Just kind of scared me, is all," she reluctantly admitted.
He gently rubbed the angry red lines the sharp plastic had made in her skin. "I shouldn't have involved you in my operation. It was foolish of me to put you in danger like that just because I thought having a civilian volunteer for us would help to sell our cover."
"Yeah, next time, you should read me in on the situation," Caroline told him, lacing her fingers into his.
Klaus snorted in amusement. "Read you in? Can I assume you're a bit of a crime drama enthusiast, love? Because I hate to dash your expectations, but those shows are appallingly inaccurate."
She raised an eyebrow as she argued, "Really? Because my TV marathons taught me enough to suspect you guys were drug dealers and either laundering money through Marcel and Lucien's coffee shop or you guys were rival drug lords fighting over the same turf."
Lips quirking, he said, "Cop actually. Although apparently not a very good one if this latest undercover assignment is anything to go by." Smirking he added, "But I did save the girl."
"Yeah, and I saved you, so we're even," she countered with a sly smile. At his confusion, she explained, "I sent you an SOS message on your website, which you clearly didn't see, so we'll have to work on that. But, the important thing is that I attached a zip file full of shady-looking information I found on Marcel and Lucien's laptop." She added wryly, "I'm guessing your team should be able to analyze it and figure out where the bad guys are heading."
His gray eyes grew wide as he processed what she said, he opened and closed his mouth as though unable to properly form words. Unable to hold it in any longer, Caroline blurted out, "The sunflower was for me. I'm special." Squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment, she rambled, "To you, I mean...uh...see, Marcel told me that he saw you in the parking lot with the flower and you were practicing what you were going to say to me." She cautiously peeked at him, suddenly more confident as she saw the desire reflected in his gaze. "He said that's why they took me. Because I'm special. To you."
Klaus tugged gently on her hands, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. "Yes. They leveraged the one person I would willingly compromise my operation to keep safe. I was gobsmacked from that very first day when you told me that owning a vagina didn't magically give one baking skills." Chuckling, he added, "And then you proceeded to argue your way onto my team by simultaneously flaunting your intimidating skillset and mocking our storefront." Clearly relishing the blush that crept up her neck, he rumbled, "You were confounding and utterly charming and had this light about you that bathes everyone in its brilliance. And I need more."
Throughout her career, Caroline had built a sterling reputation for articulating the most complex web design terminology to clients of all sizes and industries. She prided herself on her impressive communication skills, and yet, all she seemed to be able to utter was, "Good." And then she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him with a feverish passion that left them both breathless.
He leaned back slightly, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose before telling her, "I'm taking you out tonight, sweetheart. For what I hope will be the first of many dates. And I'd also like to offer you a job."
Taken aback, she tried to calm the fluttering of her heart at his words, excited that he was interested in her. Then, she focused on the other part of his invitation. "A job?"
"Of course. You've displayed a real knack for data mining in high-pressure situations and we could really use you on our team," he told her. With a charming grin, he asked, "What do you say? Are you interested, love?"
With a teasing wink, she replied, "I might be. As it so happens, I'm in between jobs at the moment."
