Chapter Ten
Heidi
S unlight peeks through the blinds as I blink awake, stretching my arms overhead. My hand falls to the empty space beside me and disappointment whispers through me. Alessandro's already gone.
He's probably with Dillon.
My stomach churns with anxiety at the reminder of what he told me last night. I can't believe Don may be behind all of this. It just doesn’t make sense to me. I thought Don was a good guy, someone I could count on. But maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe I just wanted to believe that because I needed it to be true.
With a groan, I force myself out of bed and slip into a sundress, determined to deal with the insurance paperwork today. Alessandro may have taken care of almost everything yesterday, and I love him so much for that, but I’m not his responsibility.
The equipment in the kitchen is going to have to be replaced. It’s far too expensive to do it on my own. There’s no way I’m letting Alessandro do it. Not when he’s already done so much for me.
I step into the living room and grab my keys off the table by the front door, determined to run to the bakery to grab the paperwork I need and run back. Alessandro won’t even know I was there. But before I even reach the front door, guilt slithers through me, and I hesitate.
I promised him that I wouldn’t go alone. I might be able to justify five minutes to myself, but I doubt my overprotective firefighter will see it the same.
Rivin pads over to me, his tail wagging, adoration in his big brown eyes. I stroke his silky ears, an idea forming. Rivin isn’t a person, but if he goes with me, I’m not technically alone, either...
"Want to go for a ride, buddy?"
He thumps his tail against the floor, grinning at me.
“Crap. What am I doing? I can’t use the dog to break my promise,” I groan. Alessandro would be furious.
I grab my phone instead, dialing my brother, Garrett.
It rings twice before he answers. "Hey, baby sis," his deep voice rumbles over the line, sounding exhausted.
"Hey. Did I wake you up?" I ask, cringing.
"Nah, the baby is sick," he mutters around a yawn. "She's been puking all night. I'm fucking exhausted."
"Oh no," I whisper, my heart clenching. "Poor little angel."
"Yeah," Garrett sighs, his voice going soft. "I fucking hate when my girls are sick."
A smile curves my lips at the sweetness in his tone. Garrett is an amazing dad and husband, just like he's always been the best big brother.
"Do you need help with something, baby sister?" he asks. "I feel like an asshole for not helping with the bakery yesterday."
"Garrett," I say gently. "You aren't an asshole. You have a sick baby. You can only do so much."
"Yeah, well, when I find out who broke into your bakery, heads will fucking roll," he growls, making me grin. Mostly because I’m pretty sure he means it.
"I love you; you know that?"
"Love you too. What do you need? What can I do?"
"For now, you take care of your girl. I'll hit you up when she's feeling better."
"Sounds good." He pauses. "When she’s over this, you can bring your man over for dinner."
My eyes fly wide open. "How do you—?"
"I’m the fucking high school football coach, Heidi. My boys say they don’t gossip, but they’re full of shit. Between them and their parents, I know everything in this town,” he says, chuckling. “Bring the man over for dinner next week."
"Okay," I whisper. Then my brows furrow, worry shooting through me. "But only if you promise not to hit him like you hit Bronx."
"Is he taking you to the sex club?"
"What? No!"
"Then I probably won't hit him," Garrett mutters.
I grin, shaking my head. Garrett and Bronx were friends before Bronx and Gemma got together. They used to play football together in college. Things got messy for a bit when Garrett found out his former teammate was dating his baby sister, but they're cool again now. Garrett knows Bronx would do anything for Gemma.
A tiny wail echoes down the line, breaking my heart.
"Shit, I gotta go," Garrett says. “She’s awake again.”
"Give her snuggles for me. Talk to you later," I say before hanging up. Glancing down at Rivin, I square my shoulders, determined to get this over with before I talk myself out of it completely. Alessandro is just going to have to understand. "Guess it's you and me, buddy. Let's go."
The bell over the door chimes as Rivin and I step into the bakery, not even fifteen minutes later. The lingering scent of fresh paint assails me, wrinkling my nose.
Rivin's hackles rise, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he immediately stops walking and starts backing up into me like he’s trying to push me back outside with his hefty body.
"Rivin, stop," I complain, nearly tripping over him. "I just need to grab a few things, and then we'll go, okay?"
He refuses to budge. Jeez. Did Alessandro have a talk with him about me coming here?
I flip the lock on the door, actually hoping that’ll appease him, but it does nothing to calm his agitation. He paces around me, snarling, his nose twitching.
I huff and tug on his leash to get him moving, hurrying toward the tiny office behind the counter. He growls in protest but sticks close to my side.
“We’ll be quick,” I promise him.
He rumbles in response.
We’re nearly to the office when I notice puddles of liquid pooling on the floor. I stop walking and gape around me. There are puddles everywhere.
“What the heck? Is the sink leaking again?”
I glance at the bathroom sink, but it's fine, so I change course and head for the kitchen to check it out. But when I push through the swinging saloon doors with Rivin hot on my heels, the sink is fine.
When I notice the puddles on the floor here, too, a knot forms in my stomach. The scent of paint thinner is overpowering. We used it to clean up after painting, but not nearly enough to make it smell like this. In fact, I didn’t smell it at all when Alessandro and I were back here yesterday.
This isn't right. This isn’t right at all.
Fumbling for my phone, I dial Alessandro's number, praying he picks up as I push back out into the bakery.
My heart leaps into my throat and then stops beating when I spot Don standing at the edge of the counter, blocking me in, his expression cold.
Rivin growls savagely, pulling at the leash when he sees my landlord.
"D-Don, what are you doing here?" I ask, my voice trembling.
Rivin lunges against the leash, snarling and snapping. It takes everything I have to keep him under control.
Don’s gaze flits to the phone in my hands. “Put it down,” he snaps.
I carefully set it on the counter behind me, the call still ringing. Please, Alessandro, I plead silently. Please, hear me.
Don stalks closer, undeterred by Rivin's warning snarls. "I knew I never should've rented this place to you," he says. "You're far too much goddamn trouble."
Indignation flares within me. "It's not my fault someone broke into the place!”
"Cut the shit," Don growls, pulling a lighter from his pocket. My blood runs cold at the sight of it. Oh my god. Did he freaking pour paint thinner all over the place to set the building on fire?
No. Please, no, I pray. But I don’t think God is listening today because those puddles weren’t here last night.
"We both know your boyfriend and the Sheriff are looking into me because of you,” Don says. “A previous tenant called me, demanding to know why the sheriff was asking about our lease. They're fucking up my business plan, Heidi."
I gape at him, Rivin snapping and snarling at my side. Icy fear slides through my veins, but I can't resist the urge to point out the obvious. "If your business plan is ripping people off, you need a new business plan."
“You’re right about that.” A wry smirk twists his lips. "That's why I made one.”
“W-what’s your new plan?”
“My broke tenant, in a fit of desperation, sets her own bakery on fire, hoping to save her own ass." His smirk grows. “And her poor landlord, who has a premium insurance policy on the building, gets a payday.”
No. Oh, God, no.
Bile crawls up my throat as he confirms my worst freaking fear. That is paint thinner on the floor, and he does plan to set this place on fire.
"Don, please don't do this," I plead quietly, my heart pounding. "You could kill someone."
He shrugs, the indifference in his eyes chilling me to the bone. "You mean you? You weren't even supposed to be here, Heidi. I figured your man would have you locked up at home. The place was going to go up with no one here. No one would get hurt. I'd get my money. End of story."
Desperation claws at my throat. "Then let me go. I-I won't tell anyone."
"Right," Don laughs, flicking the lighter.
As soon as the little flame appears, Rivin goes crazy. It’s like he knows the man is a threat, and that little flame means life or death for us. There’s nothing I can do to hold him. He lunges forward, snarling like a wild beast.
I cry out, losing my grip on the leash.
Don tries to evade him, but it’s already too late for that.
Rivin sinks his teeth into Don’s leg, biting savagely.
“Fuck!” Don roars, dropping the lighter as he tries to shake him off.
“No!” I watch in horror as the lighter lands beside a puddle at his feet. The paint thinner ignites with a quiet whoosh, flames erupting.
Don jumps back, effectively putting him on the other side of the fire. Rivin tries to lunge for him again, but the fire is between them. There’s nowhere for me and Rivin to go as the flames immediately begin to spread. Within seconds, another puddle goes up, and then another.
We’re trapped between the counter and the kitchen…and the keys to the kitchen door are still in my car.
Panic rises like bile in my throat as the walls begin to catch, the fresh paint acting like kindling.
"Please!" I cry, my eyes stinging from the smoke already billowing through the bakery as Don stumbles toward the front door, limping as quickly as he can.
He glances over his shoulder at me, his expression blank, and then unlocks the door before disappearing through it.
My eyes water, and I cough.
"What are we going to do?" I whimper, my voice trembling as Rivin whines, nudging his way under my hand.
I crouch beside him, wrapping my arms around him as the flames dance higher, consuming the counter and creeping even closer. The heat of them sears me, so hot I feel them licking at my skin.
I’m going to die here…all because I trusted the wrong person.
“I’m sorry, Alessandro,” I whisper, tears pouring down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”