“Handful of times to the health department and once claiming we were serving minors. No truth to any of it.”
“Yeah, I saw the report for that last one when I ran the bar through our system. Either way, we have to check it out.”
Detective Oscar’s jaw clenched at her partner’s dismissive tone. Couldn’t tell if she was playing bad cop to him or me, but I did know it had me fighting that hard-on again. “If you want a warrant first, that’s your right. Of course, we’ll have to shut everything down and clear the place while we wait for it to come in. That seems like a waste of everyone’s time.”
There goes the fight.
Turning to face the door, my gaze darted down to check to make sure my worn flannel covered the hard evidence stretching down my thigh before I punched in the code to unlock the door. I pushed it open and stepped aside.
The guy waited in the hall with me as she walked through the rows of shelving units. She didn’t stop to inspect any of the bottles, seals, expiration dates, or cleanliness. Her walkthrough of the kitchen, walk-in fridge, and pantry was just as quick, which meant the issue wasn’t something as simple as another false code violation.
Unsurprising, since I doubted they sent detectives for that frivolous shit.
My cooks stopped what they were doing to watch her as intently as I did.
Too fuckin’ intently.
I cleared my throat, and they jumped back to work before the food started a fire that would torch the place.
I wouldn’t be too broken up about that with the way shit was going.
The detective took a little more time in the break room, opening the heavy door that led to the small employee lot. Wasn’t much to see in the other back room, but she walked inside to check around the couch.
Only one door was left, but it was apparently one door too many for the guy. “It’s all good. Can we leave now?”
You can.
She can stick around to see how I put that back room to use.
Or how I used to when I had the time and energy.
Hell, how long has it been?
The damn room and I are both collecting dust.
Shooting him a warning glare, Detective Oscar tapped a door. “What’s in here?”
“My office,” I said.
“Can you unlock it?” She might’ve phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t one.
That didn’t mean I was about to jump to obey the order.
It was usually the opposite in my world.
I stared her down again. “You gonna tell me what this is about first?”
She hesitated before finally laying her cards on the table. At least one of them. “We got a call from a woman in distress.”
That explains the damn speedwalk through the place.
Since I had not one thing to hide—and I sure as shit didn’t want her to think I was the kind of scumbag who would cause a woman distress in an unpleasant way—I unlocked the door and pushed it open without bothering to look in.
Not till shit went to hell from one blink to the next.
CHAPTER TWO
THREE RACCOONS IN A TRENCH COAT
