Snitches Get Stitches (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 8)

A facility that the people of the city had been begging the city to force out for about a year when all the downtown businesses had been upgraded.

Tyson browsed around the shops that surrounded Elite Repeats, stopping at a bakery two stores down from the mental health facility.

A ritzy mental health facility. One that I had a feeling was more for the upscale crazies of the area and not just low-income families.

Tyson and his daughter hadn’t gone up to the front doors of the facility. They’d gone down a side alley that led to the back of the bakery where some seating was.

But from where I was sitting, I could see them bypass the bakery’s seating and continue walking past it to a gate that surrounded the facility.

Then I’d seen him pull out a key, open said gate, and disappear inside with the little girl.

From that point, they’d disappeared from sight, but I knew that they were inside the facility.

There was no doubt in my mind.

Now I just needed to figure out who he was visiting and why.

Bounding up the front walk that led to the entrance, I stopped long enough to read the writing on the door that said, ‘The Bridge’ on it in bold white letters with curly, cursive font.

Pasting a bright smile on my face, I made my way inside and was struck by just how fancy it was.

Fancy wasn’t even the word I’d use.

Possibly aristocratic. High class. Definitely not for me.

I felt out of place the moment my dusty work boots hit the elegant white tiles of the foyer.

The woman behind the desk that bordered the far wall looked up when I entered, and she smiled, looking unaffected by my work attire or my dirty work boots.

“Hello,” she said cheerily. “May I help you?”

I grinned. “Actually, kind of,” I admitted as I continued to walk toward her. “I’m here to talk to an owner? A manager?”

The woman behind the desk frowned. “I’m sorry, but both the manager and the owners are busy today. It’s family day today for about another hour. Is it something I can help you with?”

I thought about what she said. Family day.

And my thoughts started to whirl.

“Possibly,” I shrugged. I was winging it at this point. “We’re out there working on the grid, and I’m just warning businesses that in about ten minutes it’s possible that you’ll lose power for about ten minutes.”

She looked thoughtful for about half a second.

“That’s no good,” she said. “Not with the families here. Are you certain we’ll lose it?”

No, she wouldn’t be losing it at all. We were working on a different grid.

Though the two facilities were close to each other, the lines that fed the businesses beside The Bridge Mental Health Facility were different than the ones that fed their facility.

“No,” I admitted. “I was just warning you it might happen.”

I gestured toward where my truck and the two others were parked. “We’re replacing light poles in the area, going from timber to a sturdier metal. Just wanted to give you a head’s up.”

She was already nodding her head.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be sure to relay that message in the event that it does go out.” She smiled, her eyes going a little flirty.

Well then.

Obviously, the stuffy desk chick liked to slum it every once in a while.

Grinning, I looked around and said, “This is a nice place.”

The girl snorted delicately, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the place. Which surprised me because she sure could look the part.

“It’s privately funded instead of state funded,” she said. “Only the best for our clients.”

I had a feeling that she didn’t really think that but was definitely playing the part.

“Well, that’s nice,” I said as I nodded my head once. “Have a good day now.”

As I walked out, my eyes snagged on a ‘therapy dog’ pamphlet that was sitting on the corner of her desk. An approval sheet from a certain company—Bear Creek Therapy Dogs.

Then I grinned, because I knew the creators of the therapy group.

“Have a nice day now!” the woman called to my back.

I turned slightly at the door, waved, and then walked back out and down the steps.

Instead of heading back to my truck, though, I went into the bakery.

“Hello,” I smiled at the young teen behind the counter. “I wanted to buy another cookie for the young child that was just in here. I caused her to drop hers and I want to make it up to her.”

The teen grinned. “That’s sweet of you,” she said as she reached for the colorful looking cookies that had hearts and flowers on them, decorated in bright-colored icing. “I don’t have any more of the unicorn ones that she got specifically, but she was having a hard time choosing between that one and this heart. So I’ll give you that one.” She paused. “Do you need another cupcake for her mom as well?”