Page 19 of Protected By Her Mate

He stops on the sidewalk outside the taped off bar. “You’re right, I haven’t, but I do have nieces and nephews.” He looks thoughtful, then adds, “Perhaps I should take the time to see them more often.”

“It’s easy to get caught up in work and not visit enough,” I say, holding up the police tape and ducking underneath. “I’m lucky. Practically my whole family lives within just a few city blocks of me.”

“You’re close with them.”

“Very,” I agree. “They helped me survive one of the darkest periods of my life, then enabled me to thrive. Without them, I’d be lost.”

We greet the manager of 716 Olive, Ian Richards, a man who looks like he’s been through the worst few days of his life. He sounds shell-shocked as we interview him, clearly devastated by the death of his employee. He has no information for us that we didn’t already know, and I wander away, leaving him in Lennox’s capable hands.

I watch them as I make my way through what used to be a thriving bar, piecing together the explosion.

There are so many fascinating facets of my police partner. He’s serious, his face creased with stern lines that enhance his appeal. Yet compassion leaks through everything he does. His hard-on for protecting people makes him impossible to resist.

An involuntary sigh leaves my lips as I watch Lennox pat Ian on the shoulder and assure him we’ll get to the bottom of the explosion that has devastated his staff.

“I have good and bad news about that,” I say, straightening. They look at me as I hold up the remnants of a device in my gloved hand. “I can confirm that your establishment was targeted. You couldn’t have prevented what happened here.”

Tears sparkle in his eyes and he nods, accepts Lennox’s business card, then walks away from the empty shell of a bar.

“It can be rebuilt,” I say.

Lennox watches Ian leave. “In my experience, that rarely happens. Tragedy like this is hard to come back from.”

We finish our search and I document the scene, consulting with the chief who was the first responder. As we walk away, I say to Lennox, “This device looks pretty close to the one we found in the warehouse. I think both places were targeted by the same people.”

“ASHRA,” Lennox says grimly.

Nodding, I add, “I’ll have to examine the device more closely in my lab before I can say for sure that they were built by the same person, but I think it’s highly likely.”

“You have a lab?”

“Yup. It’s called the fire house kitchen.” We stop next to my truck and I look up at Lennox. “Where to next?”

He looks thoughtful, then says, “There’s someone I need to talk to.” His gaze narrows on my face. “But I don’t think you should come.”

I snort. “Spill the goods,partner.” As if I’m going to sit out any part of this investigation.

He rubs a hand over his face, as though wiping away the weariness left behind by the wear and tear of hundreds of years. “Ian Richards told me 716 Olive is a subsidiary of a much larger corporation, Paddington Incorporated.”

“Who owns Paddington Inc.? I assume we’ll talk to them next?”

Lennox shakes his head. “It’s not easy to get an audience with the head of Paddington.”

“You know them?” I ask eagerly.

His jaw clenches but he nods. “I know them.”

“Then you can get us in.” I’m confused by his reluctance to pull in a connection, but that’s what we do in this city. We pull connections to get what we need to solve the crime. “Call them, get us an interview.”

“You don’t understand,” he says in a low voice, pulling his phone out and tapping out a message. “Paddington deals in favours. We talk to them and they give us anything, we’re in their pocket.”

I laugh. “That sounds so mafia.”

He doesn’t crack a smile as he opens my door, ushering me into the truck before striding around the other side.

Chapter 8

Fighting fires with flare

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