Page 9 of Frostbite & Mistletoe
“Yes, of course,” she said, remembering how the late Jack Tringstad, her great-uncle and city building inspector, had breezed through the club in under an hour, pointing a few things before giving her a thumbs-up and refusing the payment she’d offered him.“He said everything looked good, and he passed me.”
Gabriel’s dark gold brows shot up.“Are youkiddingme? What about the fire marshal walk-through?”
“Um… the inspector said I didn’t need one?” Kymberlie said in a small voice.
At the time, she’d been relieved by Great-Uncle Jack’s wink and nod.
Now, she wondered whatelsehe’d let slide out of consideration for a struggling new business owner and fellow pack member.
Gabriel scowled, muttered something under his breath, and made another note.
“Most of your extinguishers are expired,” he continued, walking to the wall where a red canister hung.“This one’s from ten years ago.”
Kymberlie hadn’t even thought to check the dates. She mentally calculated the cost of replacing all the club’s extinguishers and winced.
Gabriel strode back into the main room and headed for the emergency exit next to the stage. He planted both hands against the push bar and gave a deliberately weak shove. The door made a loud scraping sound but barely moved.
“And this is a death trap for ordinary humans,” he said flatly.
Kymberlie realized with a sinking feeling that, because she and her staff were all wolf shifters with shifter strength, it had seemed the door only stuck a bit.
Inconvenient, but not a big deal. It was on her list to fix, but hadn’t seemed super-urgent
“For an Ordinary, this would be impossible to open in an emergency,” Gabriel continued.“And I saw the exit in your kitchen is blocked by stacked crates on the outside. That’s a major violation.”
He turned back to her, his expression grim.“You also don’t have enough exits for your occupancy rating. How many people do you typically have in here on a weekend night?”
“Two hundred, maybe two-fifty on a good night,” she answered.
He shot her an incredulous look.“With your square footage and current exit capacity, you should be limited to one hundred twenty-five, max.”
Another note. Another blow to her income.
“Look, I get it,” Kymberlie said, forcing her voice to remain steady.“There are problems. I’ll fix everything. Just tell me what you suggest I tackle first, and I’ll get started right away.”
Gabriel’s pen paused mid-stroke. Her voice and her scent must have betrayed her growing panic.
“Ms. Tringstad—”
“Kymberlie,” she corrected automatically.
“Kymberlie,” he repeated, and she hated how her name in his deep voice sent a tingle down her spine.“These aren’t suggestions. These areseriouscode violations. Life-endangering safety issues.”
“I understand that, and I’m not arguing with you.” She held her hands up in surrender.“I’m just asking for a list so I can prioritize repairs.”
He hesitated, his green-gold eyes studying her for a long moment. Kymberlie tried to appear calm, reasonable, cooperative—anything to avoid what she feared was coming next.
“I’ll provide you with a full list, of course,” Gabriel finally said, turning to a fresh page on his clipboard.“But you need to understand something.” He looked up, meeting her eyes with a sympathetic expression.“I’m issuing an Order to Vacate. The Hair of the Dog cannot reopen until all the safety violations are corrected and reinspected.”
“What?” The words hit her like a physical blow.“You’re shutting me down? Completely?”
His expression shuttered.“Yes. This building is unsafe to occupy in its current condition.”
Kymberlie’s face heated as panic surged through her.“For how long?”
“Until the violations are fixed and I’ve reinspected the premises.”
She did some quick mental math. Even if her insurance company sent her money right away, it would probably take months to get contractors in, pull permits, and complete the work.
