Hunter’s attention sharpened. Dom didn’t use words like “incident” lightly.
“A witness reported an execution in the industrial district.” Dom pulled up the file, holding the tablet so Hunter could see. “Around 0730.”
Hunter’s mind snapped to attention. “That’s about thirty minutes after I lost Brennan at the school crossing.”
“Could be related.” Dom scrolled through the police report. “Sounds like a cartel execution. Possibly Brennen’s clients.”
For the first time in two weeks, Hunter felt the familiar tingle of a mission coming into focus. “Who was the witness?”
Dom scrolled to the witness information. “Brianna Rayner. She runs Sweet Summit Bakery down the street.”
Hunter straightened slightly. He knew the bakery. He passed it every day, though he’d never been inside. It seemed to have a line of customers every morning.
“She’s friends with Valeria,” Dom continued. “Her family are good people. Pillars of the community.” His expression darkened. “If the killers identified her as a witness...”
“Who interviewed her?” Hunter asked.
“Val’s brother, Detective Reynolds took her statement, but he said she was pretty shaken up. Saw the shooter put one in the victim’s head, point-blank. That’s part of why he contactedme this morning. They weren’t able to find any leads, but he’s concerned about Brianna’s safety.”
Hunter was already shifting into operational mode, his exhaustion pushed aside by purpose. A real lead. A witness who might have seen Brennan or his associates. After two weeks of nothing, this was something.
Fifteen minutes later, Hunter sat in his black Ram, reviewing the witness statement one more time. Brianna “Brie” Rayner, owner of Sweet Summit Bakery.
Through the windshield, he studied the bakery across Main Street. November’s weak sun filtered through gray clouds, casting pale light on the storefront windows. The pre-lunch lull meant it would be slow inside. Perfect timing.
He turned off his phone and stepped out into the cold air. His breath misted as he crossed the street, boots steady on the asphalt. Just another routine interview. Get her statement, assess what she actually saw, determine threat level. Simple.
His wolf stirred as he approached the glass door. Through it, he could see the interior was decorated for the season, customers sat at small tables, the display cases were full of pastries, and the red-headed woman behind the counter was reaching up to restock paper coffee cups.
Something tugged at him. His hand hesitated on the door handle. Hunter pushed the feeling aside and pulled the door open.
Chapter
Five
As Brie turned around,a man stepped through the bakery doorway. Her bear sat up immediately, her skin prickling with warmth. Hunter Wolf.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
The late morning light streamed in around him as his broad shoulders nearly filled the doorframe. His black henley stretched across his muscled chest, and his penetrating blue eyes scanned her bakery. Everything about him radiated controlled power.
Her heart leaped and then it sank. It had been two weeks since the worst experience of her life. Finding she’d been matched with Hunter Wolf on mate.com that day had felt like fate was throwing her a lifeline, and she’d expected him to respond to her message right away. But he hadn’t.
She’d checked her phone obsessively at first. Then less frequently as hope curdled into pain. Had he taken one look at her profile and decided she was unworthy of even a reply? Now he was here, close enough that she could see the exact shade of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but feel the hurt all over again.
“Excuse me, miss? We’re ready when you are.”
The couple at the counter smiled patiently. Brie blinked, forcing herself back to the present.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” She turned to them and smiled politely. “What can I get you?”
“Two apple tarts and two house coffees, please,” the woman said. “Smells wonderful in here.”
“Thank you.” Brie’s hands moved on autopilot. She grabbed two small plates from the stack and transferred apple tarts with tongs. She moved to the coffee station, filling two ceramic mugs with the dark roast blend. In her peripheral vision, she watched Hunter Wolf step away from the door and position himself by the window, waiting.
She handed the couple their change and managed a smile as they turned to sit down. She then watched Hunter Wolf approach the counter. He moved like her father did, with a military baring that never quite left.
Up close, she could smell him clearly now. Pine and leather, gun oil and whiskey, and underneath it, a scent that made her bear purr. Her throat felt tight.
