Are you alone? No. We're together. (Book 3) ✔️

Chapter 1

Danny Brown's POV:

Sitting on the cash counter I stare at empty tables in the restaurant when a familiar face walks up to me. "What's up, Danny? Did you miss me?"

I stand up and she hugs me very tightly. "Nice to see you back, Beechy." I pat my hands on her back as my lungs cry in need of air. She spares me alive.

She is a small-eyed, short-haired and zero-figure girl. I really wanna know how she does that throat choking grip and also why she does that with me. "How's your dad, Beechy?"

"His addiction is getting better. All thanks to you." She hugs me again. My nostrils fail and I open my mouth for help. I tap again and she lets me free.

"I have some work to do. Take your place." I walk around the counter and walk towards the storage room. She follows me, saying. "I'll help you."

As soon as I open the storage room's door. A shirt lands on my face and my view gets blocked. It slips down my nose with a killer stink. I put my hands over the nose and the view stuns me.

A familiar bare man, Jello walks up to me and takes his shirt from my feet. "I'll see you, later, sweetheart." His good-looking six-packs arouse some senses in me but not of that kind of course.

"Not here though cause I'm fired." From a dark corner, comes a timid voice of Emma with a sound of zipping something. She comes into view. "I'm so sorry, Danny. Please don't fire me."

I stand stunned. Beechy thrashes my one shoulder and enters the darkroom, I stumble forward. "I'll do the cleaning part and please don't fire her." Emma waves at Jello and he runs away.

Emma's feet tremble with fear and her head stays lowered. I step backward and take a look from her tip to toe. Her neatly tucked uniform of a white shirt & red skirt makes me wonder about the zipping sound.

I shake my head and ask politely, "Who fires up the kitchen at your home?" She makes a confused face.

"The cooking & all household stuff. Who does that?"

"I do," she replies with conviction.

"Jello doesn't do anything?" I enquire further.

"He cooks food, sometimes." She says smiling.

So these two have cooperation. I miss my Princess. She was absolutely a gem, balancing her day job & household. She used to see me as a Life Partner but Olive treats me as a Life Prisoner.

My phone ring hinders the important comparison. "Danny, you were supposed to give your car this morning," says my friend Tanner and owner of Rainbow Car Servicing.

"I forgot about that. I'll do that later," I inform and hang up. Emma walks past me. "You're not fired," I call out loud.

"Thanks a lot, Danny." She turns towards me beaming up. "It's for Jello. Does it look good?" She raises a brown leather jacket with a long zipper in front.

Great, she gives her partner gifts too. I nod, smiling only from outside. Beechy appears with Thanks. I'm gonna hug you now look. I raise my phone, "I have a call to attend." She spares me.

I inform Olive about the car brakes with all sincerity and politeness. But Olive being Olive hangs up on me with an angry scowl.

I spend my remaining time at the restaurant playing Olive Vs Princess. When the clock ticks to seven, the game gets over with a score of 0-10.

After closing the restaurant I walk towards my home. My phone beeps with messages of 3 speeding tickets on my car. I call the nasty driver Olive but she doesn't pick up.

I keep trying her phone as worry takes me over. I reach my home and notice the lighted windows. Keying in, I jolt the door open wide. The view inside replaces my worry with anger.

My heart had skipped some beats with her worry. But all the time she is been sleeping on the couch peacefully like a baby. In retaliation, switching on to Comedy Central I turn up the volume to max.

"Turn that off, Brownie." She turns sideways and looks at me. Something itches around her knee and she moves a hand towards it. "Please," she groans.

Her pale face makes me worried. I turn the tv off and rush to her. "What happened to you?" I sit on the couch beside her toes.

"Nothing," she says but her groaning voice doesn't match her words. I advance my hands towards her knee. "Take off your clothes, Olive," I demand.

"I'm not in that mood," she denies plainly.

"No. Not in that way." I shake my head.

She understands my pure intentions and stands up. She tosses her grey jeans and black leather jacket. In a plain white V-neck tee till her thighs, she looks stunning but her bare knees catch my attention.

"Sit there," I command padding and come back with a first aid box. Placing her legs on my lap I apply the antiseptics on her wounded right knee. She looks at me with sore eyes and I get lost in them.

"I was going really fast. I slowed down but couldn't stop at the turn so I had to jump off the car," she informs.

"Nothing to worry about, Olive. I'm just happy you're okay." I place a bandaid over the small cut on her right knee. "What about the case?"

"5 girls killed at the restaurant. The owner is arrested tagged as a psycho. But I can't work the case as the bodies are already taken by cops," she explains in a dismal tone.

I go into my room and come back with a case file. "You can. The case sounds like an exact replica of mine. This case had tagged me as a serial killer. These are copies I had gathered from Walter."

I peel off the closed sticker off the file. "I think my case was just the beginning."