“Unbelievable,” Kinsley said. She turned to Remy. “Maybe your love potion is finally working.” Not that Kinsley believed in that, but if she could make Remy feel good, she would.
Remy hesitated, considering. “Maybe, but I always assumed it didn’t work because Rhett was closed off.”
“You did a love potion on Rhett?” Peyton asked with a burst of laughter.
“In high school,” Kinsley explained. “We tried three times to no avail.” And just to make Remy feel like her magic had all the strength in the world, she added, “Maybe now it’s working.”
“Maybe.” Remy smiled sweetly, linking her arms with Kinsley.
Kinsley swiped at the dampness on her face and drew in a deep breath. “Well, now we need a new plan since we’re not spending any time cleaning up this place. What do you want to do?”
Remy raised her hand. “I vote we celebrate with chocolate cake.”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Peyton said.
“Chocolate. Cake. Peyton,” Remy said slowly.
Kinsley smiled. “She’s right. I can’t drink wine. Chocolate cake it is.”
* * *
I can’t believe you fixed the bar for me. Thank you doesn’t seem hardly enough but thank you.
Rhett embraced the warmth in his chest as he stared down at his phone and read the text from Kinsley. Good. He’d made her happy, which was a step in the right direction. Determined to get his day started, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans and set to making himself a coffee in the break room. Lee Matthews, his old military buddy, now owned a construction company, and Rhett paid for the labor of Matthews’s guys for the work done last night to get Kinsley’s bar back up and running until the insurance money came in. The less time she was closed, the better.
“Dalton’s here.”
Rhett glanced over his shoulder to find Asher standing in the doorway. The heady amusement in his friend’s eyes interested him. “Did the boys have any trouble getting him to come in?” They’d sent a couple of squad cars up to Whitby Falls, and along with their police department, they’d gone to ask Dalton to come in for a chat.
“Cameron took a good hit from one of the bikers,” said Asher with a grin, “but from what I hear, Cameron responded quick enough that I have no doubt that guy regrets the punch.”
“Damn. Would’ve liked to see that.” Cameron was a rookie, but he also had a black belt in jiu-jitsu.
Rhett poured himself a cup of steaming hot coffee, getting his thoughts together. He was determined to get some answers from Dalton. The timing of the bikers coming to Kinsley’s bar and then the break-in was a little too coincidental for Rhett’s liking. “All right, let’s see what this prick has to say.” Mug in hand, he followed Asher out of the break room. He stopped by his office and grabbed the file folder off his desk before continuing on to the interrogation room down the hall.
Just before Rhett entered the room, the chief called his name. Both men turned and waited for Hank to reach them.
“Meet me in there,” Asher said before he strode into the interrogation room.
Rhett nodded, watching the door shut before facing Hank.
There was a softness in Hank’s eyes. He placed a hand on Rhett’s shoulder and held his gaze. “Good man.” Without another word, he walked away.
Rhett released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, pleased he’d gotten something right when it came to Kinsley.
He entered the interrogation room, finding Dalton sitting at the metal table, arms crossed, looking bored. In the corner of the room, a video camera would tape this interview, and Boone sat behind the two-way mirror watching the conversation from another angle. Rhett wouldn’t take chances. He wanted all eyes on Dalton now. He took a seat across from Dalton and set his coffee down, regarding the arrogant tilt to Dalton’s head, the half smile.
Rhett could have been Dalton. When he returned from the Army, a shell of what he had once been, he had Boone and Asher. A soldier always needed camaraderie, and Rhett found that in his childhood friends. Dalton found that in a motorcycle gang. Rhett owed much to Boone and Asher, who’d pulled him away from the darkness that shadowed his life in that first year after he came home. They had forced him to come out, even when he didn’t want to. They made him attend family dinners when all he’d wanted to do was hide in a bar and drink into the pain.
Rhett finally cleared his throat and opened the file. “I don’t want you here, and you don’t want to be here,” he said to Dalton. “Answer my questions truthfully and we can both be spared wasting our time.”
Dalton’s mouth twitched. “Ah, and here I thought you liked me, West.”
Rhett flipped through the file, pulling out the photograph of Kinsley’s bar in shambles. “The night you showed up at Whiskey Blues, the bar was ransacked and destroyed.” He flipped the photograph around and slid it across the table to Dalton. “Are your guys responsible for this?”
Dalton examined the photograph and snorted. “Not our style,” he said.
Truth. When the Red Dragons committed crimes, they didn’t hide their faces. They were smart, lethal, and did not fear the law, and usually the younger generation took on the guilt for any crimes as an initiation into the gang. But that was not why Rhett had brought Dalton into the station today. He doubted the Red Dragons were behind the break-in, but after years of honing his skills to read people to keep his brothers safe in the war, he was using Dalton as a stepping-stone to find out evidence he wouldn’t otherwise discover. “Have you heard of any new gangs coming into the area?”