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isles of high quality ingredients.
    She picked out a carton of eggs, some
whole grain toast, center cut bacon and freshly churned butter that seemed to
have originated at a nearby farm.
    Her mouth was already watering when she
thought about the meal.
    “Cooking for someone special?” a voice
asked from just behind her, as she was looking at the milk.
    She startled, nearly jumping out of her
skin.
    Lucas was standing just a couple feet
away with a smug look on his boyish face.  
    “Why won’t you leave me alone?” she said
in a low whisper.
    He shrugged.   “Because,” he said, “we don’t leave
criminals alone, Ivy.”
    “I’m not a criminal.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Fuck this,” she said.   “I’m so out of here.”
    “Don’t walk away from me,” Lucas
barked.   His voice carried enough of
a warning to stop her in her tracks.   “You think we don’t know about Cullen’s sweetheart deal with the
district attorney?” he asked.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”   But she was frozen in
place.
    What if, even now, they were surrounding
the house and getting ready to arrest Cullen and his father?   She needed to give warning, but Ivy
didn’t know how to do that without giving them away.
    “You know exactly what I’m taking about,”
Lucas told her.   He began pretending
to look over the selection of milk, his hand touching various jugs and
cartons.   “That Cullen Sharpe seems
like he’s got nine lives,” Lucas laughed.   “But he’s on—what, life number eight by now?   Do you think he’s got that many more
chances left?”
    Ivy was shaking.   “You’re harassing me, Lucas.   I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    Lucas turned away from the milk and stepped
closer to her.   Close enough that
she could smell his rancid cologne and his coffee breath.   “Why are you here?” he asked.   “Some secret little mission?”
    “You’re watching so closely, than I
suppose you already must know,” she smiled.
    He seemed to grow agitated at this.   “We know enough,” he muttered.   “We know that you and Cullen keep
getting in deeper and deeper, Ivy.   But you can still save yourselves.   Tell us where his father is hiding and we can let the two of you live
the rest of your lives in peace and quiet.   All of this trouble can be gone in the blink of an eye if you’d just
help us.”
    So they didn’t have a clue that Preston
Sharpe was right under their noses.   It was almost laughable, except it really wasn’t funny at all.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.   “I don’t have a clue what you
mean.”   She met Lucas’s gaze and
held it firmly.
    They’d followed her to The Cape, but they
didn’t know about Cullen’s father being at the house.  
    Yet.
    “He’s a bad guy, Ivy,” Lucas said.   “Preston Sharpe.   He’s a nasty piece of work and he’s
responsible for a lot of terrible things that I doubt you’d want to be associated
with.   Please don’t make me have to
ruin your life over this.”
    “Can I go now?” she asked.   “I heard what you had to say.”
    He smiled but the smile didn’t touch his
eyes.   “Watch yourself.   Or we’ll watch for you.”
    She turned away but then a realization
hit her.   “You’re tracking my phone,
aren’t you?” she said.   “That’s how
you found me here.”
    Lucas shrugged.   “We have our ways.”
    Maybe, by now, they had seen him.    With all the windows in that
house, it wouldn’t be difficult.  
    Ivy walked away from Lucas and made her
way to the registers, pulling out her phone as surreptitiously as
possible.   She started texting, her
hand shaking.
    “Hello,” a friendly bagger said.   “Find everything okay?”
    She didn’t respond to the bagger.   Instead she sent a text to Cullen’s
phone.
    FBI at the store.   Lucas.   BE CAREFUL!
    She didn’t know if the FBI was monitoring
her texts or not, but she had to try and warn them.
    And then Ivy put her phone away and
smiled.