Page 111 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Customers were sent home with vouchers for either San Camanez beer from their local liquor store—as long as it carried San Camanez beer—or their next meal free, as tokens of thanks for their cooperation.

Nobody seemed like they wanted to stay anyway. Everyone was pretty shaken up about what happened.

Staff, on the other hand, was asked not to go anywhere.

“Why do customers get to leave?” Ginny asked. “I’m scared too.”

“Yeah, we just want to ask everyone some questions about who dropped off the package and stuff,” Clint said, keeping his tone even.

It was all Wyatt could do to keep himself from fucking vibrating and flying off the handle. If one of the staff was the mole, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He certainly couldn’t be left alone with them. Clint and Bennett would need to hold him back from going apeshit.

Someone sent Vica a motherfucking bomb.

They knew she was working at the restaurant. And when she was going to be there.

“Everyone can come in here,” Clint said, ushering them all into the brewery. “You’re welcome to beer if you’d like. But we do request each of you speak with us individually so we can hear your observations without any influence from others.”

Bennett nodded. “I’ll stay here with them. Wyatt, Clint, you guys and Everett can use my office.”

“What about me?” Vica asked.

“You’re with me,” Myla replied, tilting her head to the side to encourage Vica to follow her back outside. “I’m going to get your statement. Then I’ll take you back to Wyatt’s.”

Vica glanced back at Wyatt.

He went to her. “It’ll be okay. Go find Dom and the boys. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“That’s a good idea.” She trembled, and he wrapped his arms around her. “This is terrifying, Wyatt. All these people here could have been hurt.”

“I know.” He glanced back into the brewery, locking eyes with all the staff, one-by-one, trying to flush out the rat just by watching to see which one was the squirmiest.

They parted, and he cupped her jaw with both hands and kissed her. “I’ll be up shortly.”

Nodding, she swallowed, then followed Myla outside.

“Okay, who’s first?” he asked, leveling his gaze on everyone. Just because there wasn’t a person there he didn’t like, didn’t mean he trusted them all. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t tear whoever snitched, limb from fucking limb.

“Nadine,” Clint announced, singling out one of their longtime servers, “you’re up.”

Nadine’s eyes went wide. “Can I … can I bring my beer?”

Clint chuckled. “Of course. I wouldn’t wish warm beer on my worst enemy.”

They let Nadine lead the way to Bennett’s office, which was just kitty-corner to the brewery, located directly behind the pub.

“Have a seat,” Wyatt said, pointing to one of the two chairs in front of thedesk. He grabbed the one Nadine didn’t take, Clint sat in Bennett’s seat, and Everett leaned up against the wall. “Now, where were you when you heard about the bomb?”

“I was on the patio giving table twelve their bill.”

“Who told you?” Wyatt asked.

“Ginny.”

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. “And who told Ginny?”

Nadine paused to think for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. “Burke, I think.”

Wyatt and Clint were taking turns asking the questions. It was Wyatt’s turn. “And after Ginny told you, what did you do?”

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