Page 32 of Mensa's Match

“No.”

“Then we’ll be at the station in thirty minutes. We haven’t had breakfast.”

The detectives exchanged a look. Fortner frowned at them while Robinson led the way out.

After Fortner cleared the doorway, Whitney edged closer to him and spoke through clenched teeth from the sound of it. “Why did you play it that way?”

He shifted so his back was to the doors and his body shielded her from view. “Call it a protective instinct. Nothing about that is right and I don’t like it.” She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a finger. “Fortner kicking this off by calling you Agent Blume didn’t sit right, and something tells me he did that to make a fucked-up power-play. Not sure why you’re no longer with the FBI, but my gut says you got screwed over. I’m not gonna stand here and watch those two twist your words.”

“Okay,” she drawled.

He shrugged a shoulder. “You’re all about right and wrong. When you answer their questions, have a lawyer there.”

She nodded. “I could ride with them, save you the hassle.”

“No way. Have you ever heard of them before?”

“No, but Mensa, I can’t know every detective in town. They’re hardly going to—”

“Whitney, I’m sticking to the plan which is that I get you to your apartment, or your car – if it’s been recovered.”

“Fine. After you,” she said, tossing an arm toward the door.

A ghost of a smile toyed at his lips. “You know better, Blume.”

She took one step past him when his phone chimed with a text.

He pulled it from his hip holster and saw it came from Finn.

Weather says it looks like rain today. WTF, man.

His gut clenched. That was a code phrase the brothers used for bad news.

He caught Whitney’s bicep. “Wait. You got your phone?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Check the news sites. Something’s wrong.”

“What am I checking for?” she asked, tapping in the security code for her phone.

“The shooting at Twisted Talons to start. That would have made the news considering the state of things when we were chased.” He pulled up his own search. Rather than search the bar’s name, he entered Dontrell’s full name. A newspaper headline sat at the top of the search results.

He read it aloud. “Local restaurant burned down overnight. Police searching for arsonist.”

“Oh no,” Whitney sighed.

“Yeah. I’m calling Har. For once, don’t argue. Our club lawyer is the shit and you might need her.”

Chapter 9

Light to His Dark

Whitney

While Mensa talked toHar, my heart sank reading the news about Donny’s restaurant. The whole building on Pass Road was a loss. According to the article, authorities had not determined if the fire was related to the shooting at Twisted Talons.

“We better roll, Whitney,” Mensa said.

---