Chapter Twenty-One
Grant was ready to go by the time Gavin showed up. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from hearing Wren saying she still loved him, but he felt pretty good. The headache was mostly gone and, though he wasn’t going to run any marathons today, he knew he’d gotten off lucky.
“You look a hell of a lot better than you did yesterday,” Gavin said when he’d let himself in to the apartment.
“The stiffness in my neck and shoulder eased up and the headache is mostly gone, though it comes and goes. The knot on my head still hurts like hell if I touch it, though.”
“Then don’t touch it.”
Grant snorted. “Living with an EMT’s really rubbing off on you.”
After grabbing his wallet and keys, Grant reluctantly got in the shotgun seat of Gavin’s truck—he always preferred to be the one driving—and they headed for the station. Traffic was a little dense and he hoped Wren hadn’t had any trouble getting to work on time. She’d told him a few times that the couple she worked for were really sweet, but he knew it was important to her not to take advantage of their kindness.
“It’s weird that they called us both in,” Gavin said. “I mean, I didn’t see it happen or see anything out of the ordinary so I’m not sure what they think I can add to the conversation.”
“Maybe they think I’ll need you for moral support.”
He drummed his fingers on the wheel while they waited out a red light. “Did you tell Wren what happened?”
Grant looked out his window. “I told her I got hit in the head. Which I did.”
“I’m guessing she then asked what hit you in the head.”
“Yeah, she did, and I changed the subject.”
“That’s going to bite you in the ass in a big way.”
“I know.” He did know. Since the moment he’d made the decision not to tell Wren the truth of what had happened—as much as they knew, anyway—it had been a lead ball in the pit of his stomach.
When they finally walked into Cobb’s office, only three minutes late, Grant’s gaze went straight to Walsh and Gullotti, sitting on the battered leather love seat and looking grim. Having both LTs in the meeting didn’t bode well.
“Have a seat,” Cobb said, nodding toward the two metal chairs. “How you feeling today?”
“Better, sir. I got lucky.”
“Good.” He shuffled some papers around, which they all knew was his way of buying time to gather his thoughts, and then pushed them to the side and folded his hands. “They determined the fire at Kincaid’s Pub was arson.”
“Okay.” There was more. And he could tell by the body language, it was going to be bad.
“Based on the method, accelerant and location, it looks like whoever set the fire wanted a response, but wasn’t looking to hurt anybody or cause substantial damage to the property. If Tommy’s heart hadn’t gone on the fritz, the fire probably wouldn’t have been a big deal.”
The pieces started falling into place. “It was just a way to get the fire department there.”
“To get us there,” Danny said. “Specifically. This was our call to answer, in our own backyard. It was our family and there’s no doubt we’d be the first on scene.”
The chief nodded. “And when you factor in the situation with Wren and that several of the other guys had already walked through the storage room without incident, it’s not unreasonable to think this was a deliberate attack on you, Cutter.”
Grant sat back in the chair, trying to sort through his thoughts before he voiced any of them. These guys were like family and had his back, but they were also his superiors. He was not going to lose his shit in this room.
“After talking to Walsh, I took the liberty of making some phone calls,” Cobb continued, “and the local PD can’t put eyes on Ben Mitchell. He missed his meeting with his parole officer, too.”
The anger came first. The guy had attacked him. He’d risked lives and property to hurt Grant. He’d come for Wren and he was going to pay for it.
There was fear because the asshole hadn’t given up and moved on. And he was willing to hurt people to get to Wren.
And then there was a rush of something Grant couldn’t really name. Ben Mitchell was here. He’d come for Grant, which meant he was in Boston and he’d shown his hand. Grant knew he was here and he’d be watching.
He could end this and Wren would be safe.
