Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Colter steps forward, drawing her attention. I think she knows who he is—or at least knows that he plays for the Falcons because her eyes nearly bug out of her head as she gapes at him.
"Do you know where we can find him?" he asks, giving her an easy, charming smile.
"In Florida." She laughs. "His sister just had a baby, so he's out there for the next week."
I narrow my eyes, not sure if this clears him or not.
Emmett seems to have the same thought. "When did he leave?"
"Last week.” She glances between us again. “Um, I can tell him you guys stopped by."
So, he didn't do it. The bastard's not even in the state. I was kind of hoping to remove him from the list of suspects, but at the same time, it doesn’t leave us many suspects to work with. If Aaron isn’t our guy, we’ve got nothing. And that’s a fucking problem.
"That won't be necessary," Colter says smoothly. "We'll catch him when he gets back. Thanks."
We turn and stroll out, waiting until the doors close behind us to speak.
"Well," Emmett drawls, "guess he's off the list."
"Yeah." I shove a hand through my hair. "Looks like it."
"Thank God." Colter mutters. "I was going to be fucking pissed if I had to kill the man who's been making my wife's second favorite dessert every week for the last year."
A chuckle rumbles from Emmett as we jog across the street, cutting through the town square. Traffic's just starting to pick up, but the only real action is at the coffee shop. Until we near Gourmet Glaze on the next block, anyway.
The donut shop is packed, a line snaking out the door. Aaron Sims may be a sketchy, cranky prick, but he’s a sketchy, cranky prick who knows how to make donuts.
I barely spare the crowd a glance as I shoulder my way to the counter to talk to the young guy working the register and taking orders.
"I need to speak to Aaron." The words come out as a growl, making the cashier's eyes widen. He takes one look at my face and swallows hard.
"Uh, he's around back with the delivery truck."
“Thanks.” I give a curt nod and pivot, Colter and Emmett on my heels as we exit the shop and head for the alley around back.
“Jesus Christ,” Emmett mutters, his nose scrunching when we smell Aaron’s cigarette smoke. “You can always smell his ass half a mile before you see him.”
Colter grunts his agreement.
“Don’t fucking drop it. Goddamn,” Aaron growls at the delivery driver as we squeeze between the brick wall and the side of the truck.
We find him leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His apron is pulled down over his belly, his receding hairline gleaming in the sun.
He scowls and grinds out his smoke under his shoe as soon as he spots us heading his way. "No one's supposed to be back here."
"Too bad." I plant myself in front of him. "We're here to see you."
Aaron cocks his head. "What do you want, Banger? It isn't time for my inspection, and you know it."
"That's not why I'm here," I growl. He’s not my biggest fan, and the feeling is mutual. I cited him last year for failing his fire inspection three times in a row after the dick decided to put a padlock on his fire exit because he didn’t trust that his employees weren’t taking more than their allotted breaks. He tried to fight it in court, wasting an entire week of my time. He lost and ended up paying double the fine because he pissed off the judge. Apparently, he blames me for that.
“Then what do you want? I’ve got shit to do.”
"I'm here to talk about Sassy & Sweet."
His scowl deepens. "Why the fuck would I want to talk about the damn bakery?"
"Because someone's been sending Heidi notes, telling her they want her to fail. Last night, they broke in and trashed the place."
“Motherfucker,” Colter curses beside me.
Shit. He didn’t know about the notes. I assumed Dillon had filled Razor in on them, and everyone was on the same page. I guess not. But now isn’t the time to get into all of that with him.
Aaron barks out a laugh, eyeing me sideways. "You think it was me."
I shrug. “From what we’ve heard, you’ve had an awful lot to say about the bakery and how it’s doomed to fail, Sims.”
"You’re barking up the wrong tree, Banger. I didn't break into her fucking bakery. I don't give a shit if she opens it or not." He shakes his head, smirking. "And nothing I said was a threat. I was just stating facts."
Emmett frowns. "What does that mean?"
Something flickers in Aaron's eyes as he looks between us. "She picked the wrong building if she wanted her little bakery to succeed in this town. Nothing lasts long there.”