Page 126 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“You know that she’s none of those things,” Brooke protested as Fischer forcefully grabbed Vica by the arm, twisting it in a way that if he applied any more force would probably snap it, and spun her around to handcuff her.

Vica knew better than to resist arrest, and although the police were outnumbered, the fact that they were both armed was not lost on any of the women. Justine had her phone out, but Jenkins was fast and not only smacked Justine hard across the face sending her to the floor, but he ripped her phone from her hands and stomped on it too.

Brooke was their last line of defense, and as she met Vica’s eyes, Vica could tell the woman was toying with the idea of running down to the pub to get the guys.

Vica shook her head. Nobody else needed to get hurt because of her. She didn’t put it past neither Jenkins, or Fischer, to open fire on Brooke or whip out their taser if she decided to make a break for it.

“You can’t do this,” Brooke said as Fischer maneuvered Vica around the furniture and toward the front door. “She’s innocent and even you know it.”

“Do we though? Or has she just pulled her slutty, Italian wool over everyone’s eyes but ours?” Fischer shoved Vica hard out of the door, causing the handcuffs—which were too tight on her wrists anyway—to dig into her skin.

“You’re not going to get away with this. I’m calling Myla and Gabrielle.” Brooke grabbed her phone, but Officer Jenkins was quick and grabbed it, tossing it into the driveway gravel and stomping on it as he walked toward theircruiser.

“Now you’re not calling anyone. Your friend is dangerous, and it’s high time you all accept that.” Fischer shoved Vica into the cruiser by placing a fat, sweaty palm on the top of her head and shoving her into the backseat. She spun around in the seat to see Brooke helping Justine to her feet. The women scrambled to the doorway, fuming and terrified.

Vica swallowed hard as the reality of the situation settled in and the police car drove toward the gate. It sat open. They didn’t even have to punch in a code or anything.

“Your boyfriend really should install a better security gate,” Fischer said from behind the steering wheel. “Didn’t take much to short-circuit the system.”

She glared at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Myhusband. And you know they’re all marines and not going to just let you take me. They’re going to come after you. They’re going to save me. You picked the wrong side.”

Both men just chuckled. “Sure, sweetheart,” Jenkins murmured. Then he turned to Fischer. “We really should have thought about short-circuiting the security panel ages ago instead of resorting to all the other shit.”

What the hell did that mean?

“Where are you taking me?” Vica asked, leaning back and violently kicking the seat. “I get one phone call, and I choose to call Wyatt McEvoy.”

Jenkins whipped around from the front passenger seat and pointed his gun right in her face, forcing her to stop kicking. A sneer curled his thin, chapped lips. “A dangerous person like you?” He shook his head. “I think the world would just be a lot safer if we spared the taxpayers their dollars of a lengthy trial, and just took care of you ourselves.”

“Besides,” Fischer added, “we don’t get paid unless we ship him a head.”

Vica leaned forward, put her head between her legs, and vomited.

“Who are we still waiting for?” Wyatt asked as he, Bennett, and Dom sat in the restaurant dining room on chairs with their front of house and back of house staff. Clint’s two brewery staff members, Cooper and Gladstone, were there as well.

They asked everyone to join, including those who weren’t on the schedule.

“I think just Ginny and Nadine,” Luke said, glancing around and doing a quick headcount. Wyatt, Bennett, and Dom were doing the same thing.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Wyatt murmured, glancing at his brothers.

“Why isn’t Burke here?” Monique asked. “He’s part of the staff too.”

“We’re giving Burke a couple of days off,” Wyatt said. “I think he deserves it. Don’t you?”

Murmurs and nods flitted through the young group.

“Still can’t believe that guy took the bomb out in the kayak like that,” Kline said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was badass A-F.”

The other Gen Z staff nodded.

“Should we just start and fill Ginny and Nadine in when they get here?” Padma asked. She glanced at her watch. “I kinda had plans to meet some friends at Humpback Beach for the day until my five o’clock shift.” She glanced at the rest of her coworkers, who all seemed equally eager to get the show on the road.

Wyatt gritted his teeth. “You are being paid for this meeting. We would never ask you to come for a staff meeting andnotpay you. We value your time. But yes, Nadine and Ginny are both fifteen minutes late. So let’s start.”

At that same moment, the front door to the pub burst open and a very frazzled Nadine came in, flushed in the cheeks and with her messy topknotmessier than normal. Her plain, white T-shirt also had a big rip at the neck. Was that seriously the fashion now? To deliberately look like a hobo, or like you’d just been in a bar fight? What next? Blood splattered clothes on the runways of Milan where the models not only had clothes that looked like it was covered in blood, but their faces were awash with the same paint? As if they’d just returned from bludgeoning someone?

Wyatt would never understand fashion, and a big part of him didn’t want to.

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