Free Bonbons and Betrayal: Book 3 in The Chocolate Cafe Series by Valley Sams

began to boil over. “No one calls my phone and accuses my best friend of murder. Listen to my voice now, you sad cow. You hear MY voice and know that when the cops come knocking on your door, it will be me that sent them.”
     
    Mac pounded the end button and placed the phone back on the counter. She was shaking she was so angry, but in all honesty she felt amazing.
     
    “Wow,” Brie said, wide eyed. “Wow. You went all gangster on her.”
     
    “It’s enough.” Mac said smoothing her hair back with trembling hands. “Even after he’s dead and gone, that man is still causing problems.”
     
    “Are you really going to tell Louis?” Brie asked. “I mean…if she knows your number, who’s to say she doesn’t know where we are. Holy crud, who’s to say she’s not on her way up here now, to serve up some middle aged vigilante justice.”
     
    Mac, her cheeks still burning, looked out at the grey streets. It was almost impossible to see out the windows, it was raining so hard. The spring storms had been relentless for the last week or so and as a result the thoroughfare was completely empty. Even the windsocks had to be taken in to protect them from the vicious ocean gusts. It wasn’t going to be busy today, obviously. She could probably safely escape for a bit to make it up to Louis’ house and let him know all about Ms. Shelat’s unfortunate call.
     
    “Will you be alright if I leave you for a bit?” Mac asked. She needn’t have. Sabrina was already dangling the keys to her motorbike in front of her.
     
    “Take the bike. You walked here this morning. Just… wear my helmet and don’t break it.”
     
    Mac snatched the keys from her hand, and headed to the door without hesitation.
     
    “Keep your eye out for maniac Ted Talk-ers.” Mac said over her shoulder.
     
    “Will do.”
     

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    Even though it was mid-morning, the streets of Mackenzie Bay were practically deserted. In a few months, when the summer season began to ramp up, there would barely be enough space to walk down the sidewalk without getting jostled or smeared by an errant ice cream. Now however, in the height of storm season, the only people brave enough to venture out were a few locals, stocking up on candles and beer before the next storm hit.
     
    And it was going to be an impressive display, indeed.
     
    As Mac maneuvered Brie’s bike carefully down the already rain splattered streets, she couldn’t help but notice the bank of black clouds that was making its way to shore. They reminded her of massive, furious rhinoceroses, pounding their way toward the little town.
     
    She had to get to Louis’ place quickly. Mac was by no means an accomplished biker – she could barely get from one place to another without a panic attack. Getting there in hurricane force winds however, that was going to be another story.
     
    She turned the bike off of the main roads toward what they townsfolk referred to as the ‘old roads’. There was a generalized mixture of affection and wariness whenever this area was spoken of, like it was better to whisper the name than say it out loud.
     
    Once a haven for Mackenzie Bay’s miniscule hippie population in the 60’s, the old roads were home to a few ‘off the grid’ places that managed to survive long after the non-conformists had been driven out. Louis’s home was the best example of the kind of eccentricity that had been unable to thrive in such an old money community.
     
    The house hung over the cliff that led down to the beach, held up by a series of pillars that always seemed to sway a little too much when the wind hit. Everything was raw wood and hand blown glass, carefully constructed by the kind of people who cultivated their own sprouts, fermented things and painted murals on bathroom walls.
     
    Mac approached the turn off to Louis’ house. The closer she got to the sea, the more gnarled and sparse the trees became. The ones that surrounded Louis’ home were so