bad, but she quickly realized King was worse. That last name had been uttered many times over the dinner table while she was growing up. She had been born into generations of cops, and her grandfather was one of the detectives that had taken Joaquin’s father down. Stefano was serving one hundred and thirty-nine years for murder, racketeering, and a laundry list of other charges, without any possibility of parole. In his absence, Joaquin had taken over his father’s empire, only he was a smarter criminal than his father. Joaquin remained untouchable. She turned to Boone. “Would King do this”—she waved out at her bar—“as retribution?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Boone replied without hesitation.
Rhett made a disgruntled noise then moved closer to the bar, studying the carving again. “If we take this for what it says, someone wants this bar closed down.” He turned around, and asked Kinsley, “Do you know of anyone who would want that?”
“Not that I can think of,” she said, then shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been open since I finished college. No one’s made a peep, and my only competitor is Merlots.” The other bar in town was a swanky night club, and she knew the owner, Bernie, really well. “Bernie wouldn’t do this to me.”
Dad considered that before nodding in agreement. “Let’s keep King and the Red Dragons as possible suspects for now. I doubt Bernie has any part in this.”
Boone added, “Until we’ve got a better understanding of what’s going on here, stay with me and Peyton.” His gaze settled on the wood carving, his brow furrowing. “This is an odd enough warning that we don’t want to take chances that this isn’t a serious threat against you.”
“No.”
The hard snap of Rhett’s voice had Kinsley whirling around toward him. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed. “You’re with me until we get to the bottom of this.” She parted her lips to point out that was a terrible idea, but Rhett added with an arched brow, “Our child. Mine to also protect.”
The primal glint in his eyes shut her mouth tight. Her heart flipped a few times in her chest, but she also hastily reminded herself not to get overly excited. Rhett didn’t do love. He protected. “Okay,” she finally said.
Thick, intense silence followed, and the room pulsated with the very loud statement Rhett had made, filling the space between them. Until Dad cut through all the unsaid things. “Good. We’ve got a plan.” He closed the distance and kissed Kinsley’s forehead. “Give us some time on this, kid, we’ll get it figured out.”
“Thanks, I know you will.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at Rhett, afraid he’d see right through her. The emotion oozing from her threatened to wash over and break down all the walls that she built up to protect her heart from him.
Dad added to Boone, “Keep me updated as the case develops.”
“Will do,” Boone replied.
While her dad headed for the front door, Kinsley faced her shattered dream again. “I need to call my staff and let them know we’ll be closed for a while. Fixing all this isn’t a quick job.”
Boone sighed heavily. “Yeah, you go do that. I’ll send one of the rookies to keep an eye on things here—and on you.”
“Is that really necessary?” she asked.
Of course, Boone ignored her in full protective mode, and added to Rhett and Asher, “Let’s get back to the station and see what the security footage shows us.”
“Good plan,” Asher agreed, and obviously realizing it was going to be a long day, he added, “I’ll grab coffees and meet you there.”
Both Boone and Asher glanced at Rhett, before hastily walking away. Only then did Kinsley turn toward him, feeling fully back in control of herself. But one look into his face and she immediately wished she’d kept her gaze averted.
Rhett’s intense dark eyes held hers, staring right through her, which he didn’t do very often. Under that potent stare, heat rolled around in her belly, setting off fireworks that she wanted to explode. She cleared her throat, putting that fire out. “Should I just meet you at your house later then?”
“Let’s see how the day plays out,” he answered, staying true to form about never offering anything he couldn’t deliver on. “I suspect I’ll drop by later to pick you up.”
She forced her heart not to pitter-patter at the idea of sleeping in the same house as him. Of maybe sharing dinner together. It was a teenage dream, the one she’d longed for, for so long, even now. “Okay.” She smiled and whirled away to bring herself back to reality.
“Oh, and Kinsley…” She turned back to him, and he added, “The next time you call, I’ll answer.”
* * *
When Rhett returned to the station, he was still questioning his choices. Having Kinsley sleep at his place had to top the stupidest idea he’d ever come up with, but when Boone suggested that he would protect the woman carrying his baby, Rhett’s mouth opened, and words fell out without thought. He strode through the station, shaking off the snow from his hair, and was greeted by the scent of stale coffee. He shut the door behind him and passed the receptionist, the frosty morning still nipping at his ears. The station was quiet around him, apart from a rookie’s fingers banging away on the computer, writing up a report. The few other officers there were sitting behind their desks at their cubicles in the center of the station. The offices lining the wall belonged to the detectives, with Rhett’s being in the middle, between Asher and Boone’s offices. The station’s walls were a pale blue and lacked any warmth. In the back of the station were two small jail cells, mainly used to house drunks who needed time to either sober up or cool off. The jail in Whitby Falls held any criminals waiting for their court date before being shipped off to one of the federal prisons.
Rhett skipped past his office, which contained only the bare necessities: a desk with his computer and a leather chair, and not much else, and headed straight for the command center. This space typically was used for morning roll call, but during big cases, the briefing room was the center of the evidence. When Rhett drew closer, he saw through the glass window that Boone had already gotten a case file started and had the file number written on the white board, with pins in the corkboard, ready to hang up the photographic evidence the forensic team gave them.
“West.”
At Hank’s sharp command, Rhett exhaled slowly then faced the chief. Hank never showed much emotion on the job, but growing up with Boone gave Rhett the understanding that when Hank used Rhett’s last name, it meant his mood was strung tight. “I’ll be driving Kinsley to your place later,” Hank said by way of greeting, “and I’ll wait until you get home.”
I want to talk to you was what he’d left off. “Yes, sir.”
“What time would you like her there?”