Page 1 of Deceitful Oath
Prologue
Lux
I’m watching a man die in slow motion.
The silver-haired man in front of me clutches his chest and collapses on the table, just missing my outstretched arm as I grip the coffee pot. Coffee gushes forth, pouring from the pot into an overflowing cup.
All I can do is stand there, bug-eyed and open-mouthed.
“What the…”
Glass shatters around me as I let go and the pot crashes onto the floor. The dark-suited men surrounding him spring up, hoisting him over their shoulders. I turn, my rigid legs finally letting me sprint to the phone behind the counter.
By the time I dial 911 and spin around, the men are whisking his body out the back door.
How fucking bizarre.
I race after them, my phone clutched in my hand, and burst into the kitchen, wild-eyed. Rocky’s nowhere to be seen—typical.I sprint to the back door, ready to help in any way I can, when a thick arm comes out of nowhere and blocks my exit.
I nearly smash into it, confusion about the entire situation making it hard to process what’s happening. I glance up into a pair of cold, dead eyes. An older man eyes me warily and snatches the phone out of my hands, ending the call.
“No need for that,” he says darkly, slipping my phone back into my outstretched hand. “We’ll take care of him.”
“But…” I start to protest, “he needs medical help! An ambulance! Something!”
“He prefers private transport,” the man responds, already walking away from me. “Ask Rocky if you have any doubts.”
I shake my head, trying to make it all make sense.I will ask Rocky, I tell myself, this is way too weird.
A customer dying right in front of me wasn’t what I had had in mind when I showed up to my shift at Rocky’s Cafe this afternoon.
I’d been frazzled and, in a rush, as usual. My long-suffering Toyota’s engine refused to turn over again and I had been forced to practically run to work instead. I was hoping for a chill shift for once in my life.
When I finally burst through the doors, Lana, who worked the morning shift, motioned me over.
“You watch those guys, honey,” she had whispered, subtly pointing to a group of men wearing dark, expensive suits. They were hunched around the secluded back table, sipping coffee. “They tip like crazy, especially if you really sell ‘em on the customer service.”
I chuckled and thanked her, wrapping an apron around my waist. The men had been pleasant enough, ordering simple dishes and not fussing too much about the wait. I kept my tips in mind and checked on them a few extra times as I waited on other tables.
Of course, as always, life decided to take me on a rollercoaster of strange twists and turns. When I approached them to top off their coffees for the third time, the older man had had a heart attack and died inches from my face.
Always in the wrong place at the wrong time—that’s what they’ll put on my gravestone.
I sigh, mopping up the spilled, sticky coffee on their table. A shiver runs up my spine at the thought of a dead body lying here only minutes ago. I glance around the shop, still wondering why they rushed him out of the restaurant like that.
I head to the kitchen to whip up a quick snack before the pre-dinner crowd rolls in. I can’t stop wondering why the men with him took him away like that—very suspicious. I try to picture his face, to come up with a name, but I’m grasping at straws.
The normal thing to do would be to call an ambulance, surely. Maybe he was someone important? A politician? An actor? Someone for whom this would cause a huge scandal?
Honestly, in my current state of barely surviving each day, I have no idea who the top politicians or important people in the city are.
I don’t even own a TV. My phone is a piece of junk I was forced to resurrect after my iPhone met its untimely death in a sewer grate. I can’t afford a new one. Safe to say, I basically live from paycheck to paycheck, hoping for the best, which isn’t always what I get.
Whoever he was, I just hope this doesn’t bring more bad luck. Since my parents died over a decade ago, and I was handed over to the state foster system, I’ve had more bad luck than good.
Just last month, a pigeon dropped dead in front of me, and I called animal control. Little did I know I was about to get myself involved in lengthy and expensive medical treatment for the damn bird. The dang thing had just hopped out of the crate theday they released it with me watching, and flown away. It didn’t even look back.
After that, my stove exploded, my car’s engine gave out again, and I lost my favorite necklace. Not to mention the iPhone catastrophe.