My stomach sinks. “What kind of trouble?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wayne has known me long enough to know that sentence has the exact opposite effect. “Wayne.”
“Rae,” Wayne says sharply.
I let out a slow breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You know that tone doesn’t work on me.”
“I’m not trying to make it work,” he says. “I’m telling you to stay home for a couple days while I get things settled.”
I straighten a little, irritation creeping in. “Wayne.”
“Stay away from the bar,” he cuts in firmly. “I mean it.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone and stare at it for a second.
That lasted exactly as long as I expected it to.
“Yeah,” I mutter, grabbing my keys off the counter. “That’s not happening.”
The Rust Nailparking lot looks wrong the second I pull in. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. There are trucks parkednear the entrance that I don’t recognize, and a glass company van sits crooked by the curb. Someone has a ladder propped against the side of the building.
My stomach drops. Repair crews this early never mean anything minor. Then I see the windows. “Son of a bitch!”
Plywood sheets cover the big front windows where the neon usually glows out into the parking lot. One board still shows spiderweb cracks in the glass behind it.
I slam the car door harder than necessary, anger flaring up immediately. If someone trashed my bar, they’re going to regret it. When I step inside, the place looks worse than I expected, and my steps slow as I take it all in. A couple tables are tipped sideways and chairs are stacked against the wall like someone shoved them there out of pure spite. The big front windows are boarded up, sunlight leaking around the plywood in thin strips that cut across the floor. The Rust Nail usually feels warm and alive, loud with music and voices and the smell of fried food. Right now it looks like it got punched in the face.
Wayne stands behind the bar talking to a guy with a clipboard. His eyes land on me immediately and he sighs. “I told you to stay away.”
I walk straight up to the counter knowing he expected me to come. “You also told me there was nothing to worry about,” I say. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”
Wayne rubs a hand down his face. “I knew you’d show up.”
“Obviously.”
He studies me for a second. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
I roll my eyes. “You say that like it’s new information.”
Wayne reaches into his back pocket. Whatever he’s about to show me is the part he didn’t want me seeing. “Someone left this.”
He slides a folded piece of paper across the bar. My fingers tighten around it as I unfold it.
The message is written in thick black marker.
LOOKS LIKE YOU NEED SECURITY AFTER ALL.
Heat rushes up the back of my neck. “Well,” I say slowly, “that’s subtle.”
Wayne doesn’t smile. “I don’t want you anywhere near this, Rae.”
I glance up at him. That’s not a suggestion. That’s him trying to protect me. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I mean it,” he says. “You’ll get some crazy idea in your head and go off half-cocked and do something that gets you hurt, killed, or thrown in jail.”
