Chapter Eight

Alessandro

T he broken pieces of Heidi's glittery porcelain countertop are heavy as a motherfucker as Dacen, Tony Gordon, and Banks Phoenix, the Deputy Chief, help me carry it out of the bakery early the next morning. Glass shards litter the floor, crunching under our boots as we navigate around the tables and chairs tossed around like a fucking hurricane swept through.

The sunlight streaming in through the gaping holes where the windows used to be mock me with the illusion that this is just another perfect day. But it's not. Some fucking asshole broke in here last night and trashed my girl's dream.

Rage simmers in my gut at the reminder. Heidi barely said two words once I got her home last night. Instead, she curled into a tiny ball on my chest and cried herself to sleep. It about fucking killed me.

I didn't sleep. I was too pissed. Before the sun even rose, I put out the call to my crew, determined to get this shit cleaned up before she had to see any more of the mess. The guys showed up at the asscrack of dawn, prepared to help.

Evan Whitcomb and Bodie Jinks are currently sweeping up glass. Devon Allegra and Emmett Madden are helping the window repair guys measure for new glass. Slowly but surely, the devastation is disappearing. But it's not enough.

We place the broken countertop in the back of Dacen's truck for him to haul down to his uncle's shop. I don't know if it can be fixed, but his uncle is willing to try for us.

"We'll get this over to Dacen's uncle," Banks mutters, holding out his fist for me to bump. "Back soon."

"Thanks, man." I bump his fist before glancing at Dacen. "Thanks. And thank your uncle too, brother."

Dacen jerks his chin in acknowledgment before climbing in the truck with Banks. Tony climbs in behind them.

I head back inside the bakery, catching Emmett's eye across the room.

"What's up?" he asks. Emmett and I have been close since he joined the department last year. He's our arson investigator and a damn good dude.

"Can you keep an eye on this shit?" I ask.

He gives me a solemn nod. "Yeah, man. I got you."

"Thanks," I mutter, striding toward the kitchen, needing a minute to get my head on straight. But the damage in here is just as bad. The fancy blast chiller Heidi was so excited about is dented, cooling racks are bent, and baking trays are scattered across the floor. Her convection oven is broken.

I run a frustrated hand through my hair, grateful as hell Heidi didn't see the damage in here last night. It would have broken her completely. I know fuck-all about baking, but I know this equipment was fucking expensive. Her insurance better cover all of it.

I pull out my phone and dial Don Waters' number, not giving a single fuck that I snooped through Heidi's paperwork to get it. I'd do a helluva lot worse to keep her safe.

"Hello?" Don answers on the third ring.

"Hey, Don? This is Alessandro Banger with the Silver Spoon Falls Fire Department." I quickly introduce myself. "I met you briefly at Sassy I get it, man. But you can't just go around playing vigilante."

"Yeah, well, unless you're going to lock me up, I'm going to do what needs to be done."

He narrows his dark eyes on me. "Do not fucking tempt me, Banger."

"What did you find out?" Easton asks, trying to diffuse the situation as Dillon and I scowl at each other, both too goddamn stubborn to back down.

"How many businesses have failed in Heidi's building?" I ask Dillon instead of responding.

His brows furrow. "How the fuck should I know?"

"Because everyone shits gold around here," I mutter. "Nothing ever fails. But Aaron made a comment…" I hesitate, trying to connect the pieces. "He suggested that if she wanted her bakery to succeed, she should have picked a different location. Actually, he did more than suggest it. He outright said it. And I want to know why."

Easton looks at Dillon, his gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "He has a point. From what I've seen, everyone does shit gold around here."

Dillon grunts. "The last business there was a coffee shop. It failed for obvious reasons. You can't compete with Aspen's place when you make terrible fucking coffee, and you don't even have scones." He purses his lips, thinking. "The place before that was some jewelry shop. They used beads and shit. Jules loved it. Before that, it was a printing place. And before that, I think it was a clothing store. There was something else there before that, but I don't remember what the fuck it was."

"Time frame?" Easton asks.

Dillon strokes his jaw, considering the question. "Three years? Four?"

"Three," I say. "The place before the clothing store was a dog groomer. They were there three and a half years ago." I know this because I tried to take Rivin there when he was a puppy. He peed on another dog's head, broke into their CBD supplements, and then spent two fucking days alternately chasing his tail and drooling on the couch, stoned out of his mind. Chief wouldn't let him near a fire for a month after that.

"So, five businesses have failed in that location in three years, and now someone is trying to ensure hers does, too," Easton murmurs.

A sinking feeling takes root in my stomach as pieces start clicking into place. I don't fucking like the picture they form. Not at all.

"Who would benefit from the businesses failing?" Easton asks.

"The landlord," I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face. "Don Waters."

Dillon's gaze sharpens as he looks at me. "You think it's her landlord? That doesn't make any sense, Alessandro. If businesses are failing, he's not making money either. He needs tenants to get paid."

"You'd think," I mutter. "But he's already convinced her business is going to fail. He basically said as much when I talked to him today. And he refused to let me pay to install a security system. If he really wanted to keep people around, you'd think he'd be jumping at the opportunity to have a security system installed free of charge. And he wasn't keen on letting me see a copy of their lease agreement, either."

"Could be something in it that he wants to keep hidden," Easton suggests. "Some clause that's making him bank when these businesses fail."

Dillon's jaw tightens, his expression turning dark as he pushes to his feet. "Looks like I need to get my hands on a copy of that lease agreement and go talk to previous tenants, see what I can dig up."

Easton hops up, too. "I'm going to run Waters through the system and see what I can pull up," he says. "I'll meet up with you after and help hit up tenants."

Dillon turns to look at me, his expression hard. "You stay the hell away from Waters and let us figure this shit out, got it?"

"Got it." I nod, but we both know it's a lie. I'll do whatever it takes to protect Heidi, even if it means crossing lines.

"Alessandro," Dillon calls as I head for the door.

I glance back at him and see the understanding stamped across his face.

"I know damn well you aren't going to listen to me," he growls. "So at least hear this: Don't do anything stupid. The last thing she needs right now is you in a jail cell. She's been through enough, and if I have to arrest you, it's going to break her fucking heart."

"Then I suggest you work fast," I mutter, not making any promises I may not be able to keep. When it comes to her, I'll protect her, no matter what. "Because if he comes near her, I'll do whatever the fuck I have to do."