When she opens the door, every muscle in her body goes rigid.
Bruce Granger stands on the porch.
Chloe squeals “Grumpy!” and tries to launch herself off her chair, but Dahlia moves fast. She scoops Chloe up before those tiny feet hit the floor.
“Dad,” she breathes, voice thin. “What are you doing here?”
Bruce steps inside like he owns the damn place. His jaw is tight, his eyes cold, and he’s wearing a suit like it’s just another workday instead of…the nuclear fallout zone he helped create.
“I don’t even want to know how you knew we were home,” Dahlia says.
He rolls his eyes. “Thought I’d save you the trouble of sending more law enforcement my way,” he says, brushing past her. “I’ve already had another delightful visit from the police this morning.”
“Why were they—” she whispers.
“They’re grasping at straws,” he snaps. “They’ve already been there once, asking questions that should’ve never been asked. They wanted to know where I was the night your boyfriend’s shop went up in flames.” He throws me a scathing look like I’m a human stain. “As if I have nothing better to do than set fire to some shabby surf shop.”
“Dad, stop,” Dahlia says, holding Chloe protectively against her chest.
“No, I won’t stop.” Bruce straightens his tie like he’s the one whose feelings have been hurt. “I don’t appreciate being accused of criminal activity. I don’t appreciate my employees hearing about it. And I certainly don’t appreciate my own daughter allowing my name to be dragged through the mud.”
Dahlia flinches. “I didn’t drag your name anywhere. There’s footage?—”
“Yes, yes, the mysterious footage of someone I supposedly know,” he says dismissively. “Someone who, apparently, you’ve already decided I hired. You think I don’t see what’s happening here? You two”—he gestures between us—“are playing detective, and I’m the villain of the week.”
“Bruce,” I say before I can stop myself. “You have to admit, it’s suspicious. Your threats on the boat, a fire to my shop not long after. We just want answers.”
He rounds on me with a sneer. “Answers? I was nowhere near your shop. I didn’t do a thing. And if I were to do something, I wouldn’t be stupid about it.”
Dahlia takes a small step back.
Bruce keeps going, voice low and venomous. “I’d damn well make sure there wasn’t a single thing to trace it back to me.”
The house goes silent.
Dahlia’s breath catches.
And I swear the temperature drops ten degrees.
Because what he said…it wasn’t denial.
It was a warning.
“You need to leave,” I say.
He grins, and it’s so arrogant, my stomach curls.
“I’m leaving.” He turns and pins Dahlia with a steely look. “Call the cops off of me, Dahlia. If I see them again, I won’t be happy.”
He walks out the door, slamming it hard.
My blood goes cold.
He didn’t come here to defend himself.
He came here to remind us what he’s capable of.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
