Chapter 6 - The Neon Sign Of Milwaukee Avenue Burns Brightly
Back at the bakery on Milwaukee Avenue, the interior lights remained on while the front door stayed locked against the freezing wind. Rosa stood behind the counter, staring at the empty prep station where Maya had suddenly collapsed less than an hour ago.
A sleek black town car pulled up quietly to the curb outside, cutting its headlights before idling in the dark. Two men in dark suits stepped out onto the snowy pavement, their heavy boots crunching against the ice with practiced discipline.
They walked purposefully toward the front glass door, ignoring the 'CLOSED' sign hanging crookedly from the brass latch. One of the men rapped his knuckles sharply against the reinforced glass, the sound echoing loudly through the empty shop.
Rosa jumped in surprise, dropping her cleaning rag into the sink before cautiously walking toward the front entrance. She peered through the glass, her eyes widening in immediate apprehension at the two towering figures standing in the cold.
“We're closed! Come back tomorrow morning at six!” Rosa called out through the locked door, keeping her distance. The taller of the two men didn't smile; instead, he held up a gold- embossed card pressed flat against the glass.
Rosa squinted at the crest, her blood running cold as she recognized the emblem of the Croft family network. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open just a few inches against the howling wind.
“What... what do you want? We don't owe any money to anyone,” Rosa stammered defensively. The lead agent pushed the door open the rest of the way, stepping inside and bringing a rush of freezing air into the warm bakery.
“Mr. Croft is aware of everything that transpired here tonight, and he wishes to settle a few lingering matters,” the agent stated in a flat, businesslike tone. Rosa backed away instinctively, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
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“Maya didn't do anything wrong! She works harder than anyone in this city!” Rosa defended fiercely, stepping protectively in front of the prep table. The agent held up a calm hand to signal she had nothing to fear from them.
“Relax, ma'am; Mr. Croft is not here to punish her, but rather to remove the obstacles standing in her way,” the agent clarified smoothly. He placed a thick, sealed manila envelope onto the stainless steel counter near the mixer.
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