CHAPTER TWENTY

Even though all seemed well, they closed down the pub for the remainder of the day.

Customers were sent home with vouchers for either San Camanez beer from their local liquor store—as long as it carried San Camanez beer—or their next meal free, as tokens of thanks for their cooperation.

Nobody seemed like they wanted to stay anyway. Everyone was pretty shaken up about what happened.

Staff, on the other hand, was asked not to go anywhere.

"Why do customers get to leave?" Ginny asked. "I'm scared too."

"Yeah, we just want to ask everyone some questions about who dropped off the package and stuff," Clint said, keeping his tone even.

It was all Wyatt could do to keep himself from fucking vibrating and flying off the handle. If one of the staff was the mole, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He certainly couldn't be left alone with them. Clint and Bennett would need to hold him back from going apeshit.

Someone sent Vica a motherfucking bomb.

They knew she was working at the restaurant. And when she was going to be there.

"Everyone can come in here," Clint said, ushering them all into the brewery. " You're welcome to beer if you'd like. But we do request each of you speak with us individually so we can hear your observations without any influence from others."

Bennett nodded. "I'll stay here with them. Wyatt, Clint, you guys and Everett can use my office."

"What about me?" Vica asked.

"You're with me," Myla replied, tilting her head to the side to encourage Vica to follow her back outside. "I'm going to get your statement. Then I'll take you back to Wyatt's."

Vica glanced back at Wyatt.

He went to her. "It'll be okay. Go find Dom and the boys. I don't want you to be alone."

"That's a good idea." She trembled, and he wrapped his arms around her. "This is terrifying, Wyatt. All these people here could have been hurt."

"I know." He glanced back into the brewery, locking eyes with all the staff, one-by-one, trying to flush out the rat just by watching to see which one was the squirmiest.

They parted, and he cupped her jaw with both hands and kissed her. "I'll be up shortly."

Nodding, she swallowed, then followed Myla outside.

"Okay, who's first?" he asked, leveling his gaze on everyone. Just because there wasn't a person there he didn't like, didn't mean he trusted them all. Didn't mean he wouldn't tear whoever snitched, limb from fucking limb.

"Nadine," Clint announced, singling out one of their longtime servers, "you're up."

Nadine's eyes went wide. "Can I … can I bring my beer?"

Clint chuckled. "Of course. I wouldn't wish warm beer on my worst enemy."

They let Nadine lead the way to Bennett's office, which was just kitty-corner to the brewery, located directly behind the pub.

"Have a seat," Wyatt said, pointing to one of the two chairs in front of the desk. He grabbed the one Nadine didn't take, Clint sat in Bennett's seat, and Everett leaned up against the wall. "Now, where were you when you heard about the bomb?"

"I was on the patio giving table twelve their bill."

"Who told you?" Wyatt asked.

"Ginny."

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "And who told Ginny?"

Nadine paused to think for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. "Burke, I think."

Wyatt and Clint were taking turns asking the questions. It was Wyatt's turn. "And after Ginny told you, what did you do?"

"I calmly told the tables in my area and the area adjacent to me that we needed to immediately evacuate the pub. And that doing so calmly would maintain that we all got out safely."

"Well done," Clint praised. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "We had a bomb threat at college two years ago and that was how my professor handled it. It worked. Nobody really panicked. Nobody was trampled. If you don't overreact, others won't either."

Wyatt nodded. "And did you see a package come into the pub? Was it delivered at the front of house, or the back?"

Sipping her beer from the glass, she shook her head. "I didn't see anything. I mean, don't most packages and deliveries come in through the back?"

Wyatt and Clint nodded.

"How did Ginny react?" Everett asked, finally joining the questioning. It was about time. "Was she as calm?"

Nadine narrowed her light brown eyes. "Yeah … I think so. I mean, you know Ginny, she's always been a little jittery."

That was true. Ginny was a hard worker, but she had a nervous energy about her that Wyatt couldn't figure out. Was it just anxiety? Or was she hiding something ?

Nadine continued. "Ginny was covering the bar for Dom. So in theory, she was front of house manager. It was her job to make sure all patrons and staff got out okay. As far as I know, she was the last person out of the pub. At least the front of the house. But I think at that point, Burke had already taken the bomb outside and was making his way down to the beach."

"And how was Ginny after the bomb was out of the pub and Burke was heading down the beach?" Everett asked.

"You're asking a lot about Ginny," Nadine replied, reaching behind her head and pulling the hair elastic out of her ponytail so her dark tresses fell to her shoulders. "Do you think she has something to do with it?"

"We're just asking questions," Everett said. "Nobody is pointing any fingers right now. We're going to ask Ginny the same kinds of questions about you and everyone else."

Nadine nodded, and even though she didn't seem rattled, she did start to absentmindedly chew on her thumbnail. "I think I saw her doing a staff head count at one point. But other than that, it was so chaotic, I kind of lost track of her."

"And the other servers? What were they doing?" Wyatt asked.

"Like when Ginny told me about the bomb? Or outside?

"Both."

"Uh … I think Renée was making a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, Monique was taking a new table's order, and Kline was helping one of the bussers clear a table because six people just walked in and we didn't have six-top available. And the two bussers—Penny and Luke—well, Penny was helping Kline, and I think Luke was busy …" Her brows bunched as she thought, then she snapped her fingers. "Right, Luke was mopping up a spill after someone knocked over a drink and sent water and glass flying everywhere."

Clint was busy writing all of this down so that way when they interviewed the rest they could verify where they were, see if there were any holes in anybody's story .

"And what were they doing outside?" Everett asked.

Her lips twisted. "Ummm … I think we were all just trying not to freak out. Everyone was huddled together, keeping an eye on Burke in the kayak."

"Thank you, Nadine. That will be all," Wyatt said, offering the server a cursory smile.

Unsure, but also appearing relieved, Nadine stood up and left. "Wh-who should I send in next?"

"Ginny, please," Clint, Everett and Wyatt all said at the same time.

"Dom's is this one?" Myla asked, pointing to brick-red the house on the right side of Wyatt's.

" Si ," Vica said from where she was hunched over and hiding in the backseat of the patrol car. "I know I am not under arrest, but I very much feel like a felon in the back here."

"It's for your own safety," Myla said with a chuckle before pulling up in front of Dom's house. She climbed out of her cruiser, then opened the back door for Vica. "Come on, perp," she teased.

Vica climbed out, shooting the cop a glare. "Not funny."

"In such a fucked-up time like this, there's nothing you can do besides make a joke." She exhaled and scratched her forehead. "This is really fucked up. Like, way out of the scope of my expertise. I don't even think Jenkins or Fischer would know what to do in the case of a bomb."

"Maybe you should get some training," Vica replied, not in the mood for jokes.

Myla understood how Vica was feeling and backed off. "Gabrielle is keeping me up to date on things."

Vica merely nodded.

"I have heard that Jenkins and Fischer are working with Seattle PD to strengthen the case against you. Wyndham Croft and the company who was supposed to hire you in New York are also submitting more evidence that you leaked confidential information."

A sick swirling sensation formed in Vica's gut and bile burned on the back of her tongue. "And what of all these attacks on my life? Is nobody looking into the possibility of it being a hit hired by Wyndham Croft? Why am I the bad guy here, when someone is literally trying to kill me every few days? And growing more and more desperate as the days go by. First, it was trying to hit me with the car, then the shooting. Then they rammed into the truck with the children in it. And now a bomb in a restaurant full of people? Isn't anybody taking that seriously?"

Myla scanned the area, then finally nodded, letting Vica know she could climb out of the car. "I am. Everett is."

"No offense, Myla, but you are two rookie cops. We are going up against a very big monster with a lot of money and a lot to lose." Dom stepped out of his front door; he scanned the area for danger as well, before welcoming her inside. He offered for Myla to come in too, but she declined.

"I've got to get back down to the pub. Go help the boys with questioning." She sighed. "I know that you don't think I know how to do my job, Vica, but I do. I'm on your side."

"It's not that I think you don't know how to do your job. It's that what is required in this instance is too big. Too dangerous. I like you, Myla, and I don't want to see you get hurt." She reached out and squeezed the police officer's arm. "Thank you for seeing me home safely."

"It's a shame Burke had to drop it into the ocean. We could have dusted it for prints."

Vica nodded. "At least nobody got hurt. "

"I'll walk you to the gate," Dom said, leaving Vica to head into his house where three little boys sat at the kitchen table eating grilled cheese, cucumbers, and strawberries for lunch.

"Vica!" Griffon cheered.

Even though she was in utter turmoil inside, she smiled anyway. It was impossible not to smile around the kids.

"Want some grilled cheese?" Silas asked, holding up a quarter of his in the shape of a triangle.

Comfort food. That was actually exactly what she needed. "You eat yours, but thank you for offering."

"My dad can make you one," he offered. "He adds three kinds of cheese."

Vica's eyes widened. "Three?"

"Dad!" Silas yelled, just as the front door opened. "What cheeses do you put in the grilled cheese?" Clearly, the little boy was much more comfortable in his own home. His voice was well above a whisper here.

Dom joined them in the kitchen. "White cheddar, fresh grated parmesan, and some Emmentaler for that stringy, Swiss cheese flavored goodness.

Silas nodded and took a bite, making sure Vica could see how stringy he got his cheese. "See!"

"I see," she said.

"And I took my dairy pills so I won't kill people with my scorregia. "

Vica giggled and gave the little cutie a thumbs up.

"Would you like one?" Dom asked.

"I would actually love one."

He nodded, then went to work in the kitchen. The boys were happily chatting among themselves, so she went into the kitchen.

"How is everything down there? Bennett has been texting me with updates. They're interrogating staff right now."

"Yeah … I mean … do you think it could be an employee?"

"I desperately want to think ‘no.' But how well do we really know people? Some of our staff are summer hires. They're students, desperate for cash. They've taken out student loans and are struggling to stay ahead, despite how competitive and fair our wages are. We're not like some restaurants that rely on tips to heavily makeup our staffs' wages. If we could do away with tipping all together, we would."

"Who are the newest hires?"

"Nadine, Monique, Ginny, Luke, Ursula, and Padma are all summer hires. But Ursula and Padma are on just for dinner shift today, so they weren't there this afternoon." He finished buttering the two slices of bread, laid one in the pan, covered it with the cheeses, then placed the other slice on top. "I don't know about the kitchen staff though. That's Wyatt and Burke's department."

"I still can't believe Burke did what he did."

"Man is badass. Toughest motherfucker I've ever met."

Her sigh hit her deep in her bones. She was suddenly exhausted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay him."

"Don't let him hear you say that. Burke hates feeling like anybody owes him anything. He says the world has gone the way of quid pro quo and he hates it. He doesn't understand when, or why, people evolved to only doing what is right when there is something in it for them. Not because it's simply the right thing to do." He shook his head. "I mean, frankly, I feel the same way. But Burke is very vocal about it. So don't tell him you owe him or any of that shit. He'll just get mad."

Vica's head bobbed. "Noted."

"I mean, that's definitely how I feel with regards to the women who Track attacked. Yes, they're scared, but coming forward and bringing him to justice—his father to justice—is the right thing to do. Wyndham Croft is a bad and dangerous man, and he needs to be stopped."

"That he does. But at what cost?"

"At whatever it costs. Otherwise, it'll never stop. You know Track has two more brothers. Right? Also, with rap sheets that Daddy has paid to make go away."

If she'd had gum in her mouth, it would have fallen onto the floor. "I didn't know Track had brothers."

"Half brothers. Different mother from Track's. Younger, and they don't live in Seattle. I think one is in college in Florida and one is working for one of his father's companies somewhere … I want to say, Utah? Maybe?"

"And they have victims as well?"

Dom shrugged. "I'd be very surprised if they didn't. They were raised to believe they could do no wrong. And if they did do wrong, Daddy would pay to get them out of it. So they have no boundaries, morals, or scruples. The world is their playground and women are their toys. I think the one in Florida has had several DUIs and has served no jail time, even though he should have. He also should have lost his license. And then the one in Utah was caught with possession and intent to sell of fentanyl laced cocaine and never even saw a courtroom, let alone a prison cell."

Fresh bile coated the back of Vica's tongue. "Does Wyatt know this? Does Clint?"

"I texted it to Wyatt."

"Where did you hear it?"

He smiled and flipped the sandwich in the cast iron. "Oh, a bartender hears all kinds of things. They say bartenders make great therapists. Well, we're also really great flies on the wall. People forget we're there and they just talk as if we're deaf or too stupid to understand what they're saying. Two guys came in the other day, chatting. They sat at the bar, drinking expensive whiskey, and the more they had, the looser their lips became. They wanted to come to the place that Track died. Pay tribute to their fallen friend.

"Gross."

"Yes, but informative. They spoke of his brothers and all the horrible shit they've gotten up to. Not to mention how impressed they were with all the things Track got away with because of who his father is. "

"And you said you texted this to Wyatt?"

He nodded and pulled out his phone and brought up his one-on-one communication with Wyatt. "See?"

Vica blinked a bunch of times. "He has said nothing about this to me."

"I'll resend it."

"And to Clint and Bennett too, please."

Using the spatula, he pulled the grilled cheese out of the pan. "Do you want your crusts cut off too?"

That made her smile. "No, thank you. I like the crusts."

He nodded, then proceeded to resend the information to Wyatt and the other brothers. Not a minute went past before Dom's phone started to vibrate. "Shit. He didn't get it the first time. Goddamn technology." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I sent it and it showed that it was sent, but …" He pinched his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "Fuck."

"It's okay. I'm sure Gabrielle is looking into it." But just to be safe, Vica punched in Gabrielle's number and was grateful when the woman picked up after three rings.

"Vica, please don't be calling with more bad news. I was literally just there a few hours ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Shit," Gabrielle murmured. "Okay, hang on. Let me get somewhere that's private." It didn't take long, then she said, "Now what?"

First, Vica told her about the bomb. Then she told her about the bomb Dom just dropped.

"I knew he had brothers, but not that Wyndham had been paying for their freedom too. I wonder if we could get those two guys from the bar to turn and help us?"

"I don't know. They were there to pay tribute to their fallen friend like he was some kind of war veteran. And Dom said they seemed pretty impressed with all that he got away with. They don't sound like people who would turn on their friend. If anything, they sound like people who would do whatever they could to keep their friend's name clean."

"Yeah, but maybe if we approached them individually?"

Even though Gabrielle couldn't see her, Vica shrugged. It wasn't that she didn't share Gabrielle's hope, but her optimism was on short supply these days. Someone wanted her dead so badly that they sent her a bomb. A freaking bomb! And they were willing to kill or injure many other people just to make sure she was silenced. "If you think you can get them to turn, then I guess there is no harm in trying."

"I'll text Dom and have him look up their credit cards, if they used them, and see if I can track them down."

Next, Vica told Gabrielle about the Seattle police officer, Isaac Fox, and that Clint trusted him. She brought up Isaac's contact in Oregon and that he was going to try to convince Evie Sanchez to testify against Track and help add validity to Vica's story.

"If we have medical records of any kind, particularly the abortion—and whether there was a DNA test taken of the fetus—then it definitely helps our case." Gabrielle made a noise that Vica couldn't quite interpret.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing … I'm just … I'm wondering if we should move you. I know Wyatt has been fighting to keep you on the property, but someone sent you a bomb. You're clearly not safe there. Or at least, the people there are not safe because you're there."

Guilt and worry swam in Vica's belly. "I've been thinking the same thing. I don't think Wyatt will allow it though. He's convinced I'm safest here. That he can protect me."

"I know."

"Do you think I should get back to the mainland and into hiding?"

"I still haven't been able to secure you a safe house. And I've been looking for one. But honestly, nothing has come up that I would trust enough. Someone has their eyes on you beyond anything we can even begin to comprehend. So it's only a matter of time until they would find you there too."

"Let's hope that something comes of the interrogation today with the staff."

Gabrielle heaved a weary sigh. "Yes, let's. But in the meantime, I think it would be best if you stayed in the house. Don't even go down to the restaurant. Unfortunately, it's the only place nobody has tried to get you."

"I was afraid you were going to say something like that."

"I'm sorry."

"You are just trying to keep your favorite client alive. I get it."

Gabrielle's laugh was as hollow as Vica's joke.

They both knew this was no laughing matter and that she couldn't stay with Wyatt and his boys for much longer before someone got seriously hurt—or worse. Wyatt had already been hurt because of her, she didn't want to even think about something happening to one of the children.

She ended the call with Gabrielle, promising to touch base with her as soon as they heard about Evie Sanchez and whether or not she agreed to testify and join them.

The boys had finished their grilled cheese and were playing upstairs in Silas' room. So that left her and Dom sitting at the kitchen table eating grilled cheese in silence.

She swallowed her last bite. "Can you tell me about Wyatt's wife?" she asked, taking a sip of the watermelon lemonade he'd poured for her.

Dom finished the third triangle of his sandwich. "Sheila was great. Everybody loved her. She was kind and funny, and probably the most easygoing of all four wives." Vica must have made a face because Dom quickly added, "But she wasn't perfect. Everyone has flaws."

"Oh, no, no, no. That … that was not. I'm glad she was so wonderful."

He picked up the last piece of his grilled cheese. "Sheila was a freelance writer for several different online magazines and newspapers. She was very wordy and quick-witted. Could whip out a cheeky insult faster than anybody. The banter between her and Wyatt was unlike anything any of us could even try to replicate. And the crazy stories she used to come up with for the kids had everyone laughing. She'd even get puppets and act the scenes out."

Jealousy had no place in Vica's heart, but it was there anyway. She was jealous of a dead woman. And it made her sick to her stomach.

She'd never been one to hide her emotions very well. A glass house, or whatever they called it. Dom's lips twisted and his eyes turned sympathetic. "You may not ever have what Wyatt and Sheila had, and so you shouldn't. He met you at a different time in his life, and you're exactly what he needs now . You have your own special relationship. Don't try or hope to replicate what he had with Sheila, because that's not fair to you, or her."

She sighed. "And we're temporary. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way. I am ashamed of myself."

He shook his head. "Don't be." He was about to say more, but the front door opened and Wyatt entered looking somber.

"Your face holds little promise that the mole has been successfully sniffed out," Dom said as Wyatt ate up the distance between them and stood beside the table where they still sat.

"You would be correct," Wyatt said, his expression stiff. "Based on everything that was said, we're leaning toward Ginny, but we have no hard proof. Just a feeling and how nervous Ginny seemed when we interviewed her."

"So then we don't schedule Ginny for a few days and see if anything changes?" Dom suggested.

Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, that's what Clint said too. And maybe. I just feel like we're missing something."

"What?" Vica asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know. But a key piece of the puzzle just hasn't made itself visible yet. It's there. We're just not seeing it." His phone started to warble in his pocket and he pulled it out. "It's Sergeant Fox."

"Put it on speaker phone," Dom instructed .

Wyatt nodded. "Hello, Sergeant. You're on speaker with Vica and my brother, Dom."

"Good news. Evie Sanchez has agreed to help. Barnes and his wife, Brier, are escorting her to the jet. Have you secured a runway?"

Wyatt's eyes flew open. "Shit. I totally forgot about that."

"We, uh … we had a minor setback," Dom informed him. "Someone sent Vica a bomb to the restaurant today. So we've been dealing with that."

"Did it go off?" the sergeant exclaimed.

"No. Thankfully. My head chef is a former bomb tech with the military, and he managed to defuse it. But we're all pretty shaken up about it."

"Jesus. I'll say. I haven't heard any news about a bomb threat on San Camanez. Did it just happen?"

"Yeah, like two hours ago," Wyatt said. "But I'll go speak with Mal Ernie. See if he'll let us use his airstrip."

"Let me know. Otherwise, we'll have to get the jet to land in Seattle and helicopter Evie over."

"I'll keep you in the loop."

They disconnected the call, and Wyatt lobbed a weary sigh. The man looked close to snapping, but also keeling over from exhaustion. And it was all because of Vica. "I'm going to go grab a bunch of beer and head to Mal's." He locked eyes with Dom. "You'll make sure everyone is safe and keep them company until I'm back?"

Dom nodded. "Of course."

Wyatt exhaled again. "Thanks."

Hope flared in Vica when he met her gaze and she wished he'd at least come to her and kiss her goodbye, but all he did was smile, nod, sigh one more time, and leave.

Dom stood up and took their plates to the kitchen. "Don't overthink it. He's stressed. We all are."

Her frown grew deeper. "Because of me. "

"No. Because someone attacked you on our property and we're determined to see justice served. You deserve it. All of Track's victims do. Even if there was nothing romantic between you and Wyatt, we'd all still be fighting to help you." He put their dishes in the dishwasher, then turned to face her. "Seriously. Don't overthink it." Then it was his turn to frown. "I guess we need to figure out where we're going to house Evie Sanchez."

That made Vica perk up a little. Her brows rose and she shrugged at Dom.

But he was quick to shake his head. "No way. I know what happens when a woman moves in ‘temporarily' on this property. Not happening."