I didn’t wait for Brutus to respond before I marched over to the door and slipped into the sneakers I always left sitting there.
“Stubborn woman,” he grumbled as he did the same.
Within a few minutes, we were on the way to my shop. Though I’d insisted on going, I was glad that Brutus drove because I was shaky the entire way there. Barely two months into my dream opening, and someone was already trying to sabotage it?
* * *
Brutus
“This was probably just some neighborhood kids or something targeting a new business,” one of the uniform officers behind me said.
I didn’t pay him any attention as I examined the broken window of Mia’s shop. Someone had tossed a fucking brick at the window. Their stupid asses didn’t realize that it was reinforced glass. The window cracked, but it didn’t shatter. However, that didn’t fix the fact that the display window to Mia’s shop would need to be replaced.
But that wasn’t my immediate concern. What had me seeing fucking red was the spray painted ‘Bitch’ across the glass. Whoever did this was trying to send a message. This felt personal. I kept my thoughts and observations to myself.
“Yeah, we had this problem a couple months ago a few blocks from here,” the officer continued.
“Did you ever catch the guys who did it?” Mia asked, coming from the side entrance of the shop. My father flanked her closely. I’d only let her out of my sight because I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That and the handful of officers who were present allowed me to relax with Mia on the scene.
Plus, I suspected whoever was behind this was long gone. In all likelihood, the shrill alarm that’d gone off as soon as the brick hit the window scared the person away. What pissed me off the most was that I had failed to finish the installation of Mia’s security system. The parts that allowed the cameras to function were on backorder for months. I’d hoped I had time to have it completely installed before anything like this happened.
Fucking fool.I cursed myself for not being on top of my shit.
“Yeah,” the officer answered Mia’s question. “Was a group of teens who had worked at the fast food place not far from here.”
“Where are they now?” My voice came out as dark as my mood. I only realized it when the officer shrank back a little from my question.
“Uh, last I heard, they were in juvie.”
“Then this wasn’t them.” I turned back to the window, clenching and unclenching my hands into fists.
Mia came up to me, wrapping her arms around mine. Her touch calmed the growing anger in my body.
“Maybe it was a similar group of kids,” she suggested, looking up at me with concern in her eyes.
“Probably,” I agreed but didn’t believe it. I only wanted to calm the fear I saw in her eyes. However, the reality was my gut was telling me this wasn’t a group of teens.
We spent the next hour answering questions from the police, filling out the police report, and checking around the shop to take in all of the damage. Whoever had done this only vandalized the outside of Mia’s shop. The security system had done its job, preventing them from getting inside. And whoever it was had tried.
I pointed out to the police that the shop’s back door had been messed with. When Mia pulled up the alarm’s information, we found that someone had attempted to disarm it, but was unsuccessful.
While Mia spoke with two officers, completing the report, I moved closer to my father. Keeping my voice low, I told him, “This feels a little more high level than some kids being assholes.”
He turned keen eyes on me and nodded. “I’ve already reached out to Robert, and he’s assured me that we have all of the resources at the Townsend disposal to figure out what the fuck is happening.”
I nodded, reassured that my father was already two steps ahead of me.
“Those boys wanted to come down here when Robert told them what happened.” My father leveled me a look. “Expect them to give you shit for not being the first to tell them.”
I shook my head almost in disbelief. I was the one they called when shit went down, not the other way around. But, thinking about the week before, it started to make sense.
“You’re a part of our family.”
And as if to put an exclamation point onto that memory, my phone rang in my pocket.
“Aaron,” I said.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice bordering on threatening.
