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“Hey, I wasn’t going to say it.” He wasn’t; as a member of the Rapid Engineer Deployable Heavy Operational Repair Squadron, big brother was the real deal, not some fighter pilot raining death from thousands of feet above. Of course, Michael never complained about air power when it was saving his guys. But Nic had two daughters who needed him; he couldn’t be risking his life.
“Sure you weren’t. See you later.” Nic ended the call.
Michael took out his anger at Deb’s situation on the decking, and exposed the joists in half the time he’d estimated. Still breathing hard, he pulled the remaining nails and screws while inspecting the structure carefully. No sign of rot or insects; the homeowner should be happy. He spent the rest of the day staining the joists, and cutting the new decking. After cleaning up, he spoke with his customer, who was very pleased, then went home.
He showered, packed all his things including Nic’s inflatable mattress, strapped on his pistol and drove to Deb’s bakery, noting the lights on inside. He parked at the back, so his truck wouldn’t be obvious later, and tried the back door. Locked; excellent. He rounded the building, noting that Deb’s apartment above the shop had large windows on three sides, and an emergency escape ladder that hung too low for comfort. Anyone could reach it from the bed of a pickup truck.
At the front, he checked the knob—locked. He peered inside; a larger group than he’d anticipated. He knocked; heads twisted toward him.
Ryan opened the door. “Come in. We’ve got pizza & beer from the brewery, and Deb’s got lots of treats.” Ryan joined his wife, Erin, seated next to Deb at the head of the table. “I’ll introduce you to everyone. Erin and Deb you know; that’s Sam Kerr. She’s Deb’s lawyer and ours.” Ryan pointed to a gorgeous woman on Deb’s left, with long, auburn hair, fancy clothes, and perfect makeup. She looked more like a model than a lawyer—and high maintenance.
Sam scanned him from head to toe and back again. “Lovely to meet you, Michael. Come join us.” He didn’t move. He didn’t want to sit next to Sam; she had trouble written all over.
Ryan waved his mechanical grasper toward the next people sitting at the table. “This is Wiz, her fiancé Tom Borde, and Tom’s dad, Pete Borde. They own the Rocking B Ranch.” Ryan grinned. “Pete’s a Vietnam sniper, Wiz is ex-Air Force, a kick-ass martial artist and computer security expert, and Tom’s a financial expert and cowboy, but still a good shot.”
The tiny, dark-haired, elfin Wiz looked fragile between her towering fiancé and father-in-law, but Michael believed Ryan’s assessment. Wiz was clearly assessing him and he wasn’t sure if he made the cut. Pete held out his hand, and they shook. Pete gripped firmly, but without any silly contest.
Michael sat next to Ryan, wishing he was closer to Deb, but happy he wasn’t at the same time. He twisted his chair to watch both doors.
“I’ve got your back.” Wiz lifted her chin.
“Thanks.” Michael watched Deb and Sam discuss points on the paper between them while surveying the rest of table; an interesting group of people. Wiz cast glances around the room constantly. Her chair was pushed back from the table, probably so she could easily get up. Tom leaned his arm against her shoulder, but kept his hands off. Pete seemed less wary, but also scanned the bakery carefully. Then Michael remembered; they’d been involved in a huge mess with Wiz’s ex-husband committing arson, and a self-defense shooting in her house. Some of the press had tried to paint Wiz as a criminal, because she’d killed her attacker, which was ridiculous. More importantly, she was cool under pressure and a crack shot—and Deb might need both.
A smack of metal on wood drew his attention back to the end of the table. Sam picked up a stamp from the paper; most likely, she was notarizing Deb’s signature. She retrieved a slim leather portfolio from the floor and slid the papers inside. “Okay. I’ll file this with the court tomorrow. Thanks, Wiz, for figuring out who the guy is. Having a name makes it much easier to file a restraining order.” Sam turned to Deb. “But, finding this guy to serve him will be hard, and as you all know, orders only work with basically honest people. This serves more as a way to increase a sentence if the police catch him. We need evidence. You need cameras, Deb.”
“Deb.” Wiz’s voice was quiet, but urgent. “I’ve done a quick assessment of your shop and I can help you with a security system like Erin’s, except we’ll use both wifi and cables since you’re in town where there’s more electronic interference. I’ve already emailed you a parts list; you can buy it locally or order online. You can add the visual monitoring to your existing security service, although they won’t like using my system rather than theirs, but mine’s much more secure. I’ll walk you through the steps to keep a backup on a cloud service as well as on your computer and a physical backup.”
Wiz tapped her phone. The picture of the man who threatened Deb appeared. “This particular guy isn’t an issue. I’m fairly certain he’s a low-level contractor paid by the job. But the next person they send might be real trouble. This man is connected with the Russian Mob, the Bratva. Plus, Marcus Bank has connections there too.” She took in a breath. “I’ve got some contacts with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, but they’re not local, and not organized crime.” Wiz turned to Sam. “You have the right contact.”
Sam scowled. “Of course you found out. Fine. I doubt it will help, but I’ll reach out.” Her lip curled.
Deb put her hand on Sam’s clenched fist. “Don’t do that. It’s not worth the heartache.”
Sam turned to Deb. “What heartache? It was over a long time ago and you’re my best friend. These guys are dangerous, and next to your life, a simple email and follow-up phone call is nothing.” She shrugged. “I’ll keep it professional. No problem.”
Erin snorted. “Sure. How’d that work out for you last time?”
Sam flipped her hair back. “That was years ago. I’m over it. Why waste my time? I’ve got better men in my life now.”
“Of course you do.” Deb put an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “But let me know if you don’t want to. I’ll reach out to him myself.” She frowned. “He deserves a piece of my mind anyway.”
Sam flicked an imaginary fly. “It’s water under the bridge. I’ve got this.”
Michael lowered his voice and leaned closer to Ryan. “Sam’s ex is FBI?” That might be helpful, but definitely not something to rely on. In his limited experience, the feds were more trouble than they were worth.
Ryan turned toward him and shrugged. “Guess so. Before my time.”
“I’m concerned my issues with local law enforcement may cause you problems, too.” Wiz scowled, the first real emotion she’d displayed.
Deb laughed. “Not a chance. Do you know how many cupcakes I take them? Plus, I donate to their fundraisers, along with the fire department and the hospital too. Pay it forward is my motto.” She rose. “Be right back.” She walked into the back of the bakery.
“You.” Wiz pointed at Michael. “You be careful. I don’t have a lot of friends, and Deb is one of them.”
Michael raised both hands in surrender. “I have no bad intentions. Just trying to keep my sister-in-law safe.” Attraction could and would be ignored. “And speaking of that, I’m grabbing my gear. I’ll guard the bakery every night until this is resolved.” He followed Deb into the warmth of the bakery. He still had the keys and alarm codes, and he’d only have to open the door for a few moments.
But when he arrived at the door, it was wide open. “Deb?”
Silence greeted him. He pulled his sidearm, slid to the side of the doorway, crouched, and peered around the doorframe quickly, ducking backing inside. Nothing moved in the small parking lot. He checked the other direction. Nothing and no one.
