I pulled him into a hard, back-slapping hug. “I missed you, too.”

After a few beats, Hunter released me and gave me a shove. “All right, enough with this mushy shit. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about Bell.”

“I was thinking about siccing Mom on her.”

Hunter burst out laughing. “You are brutal, bro.”

I shrugged. I would do whatever it took to keep Bell safe.

25

BELL

A knock sounded at my door, and I quickly swiped at the tears under my eyes. “Who is it?”

“Ford.”

My chest warmed as those damn butterflies took flight in my belly before I shoved them down. “Come in.”

“Why the hell isn’t your brand-new lock doing its job?” If Ford’s words hadn’t clued me in to his anger, the vein pumping on the side of his neck would have.

“Because…” I drew out the word. “Every five minutes, one of the staff members or patrons is coming up here to check on me, and I got tired of having to get up off the floor to go and unlock the door.” I gestured to the mess I was attempting to sort through and clean up. After three smashed pots, I’d finally decided that trying to glue them back together was a lost cause.

Ford took a few steps forward, plastic bag in hand. “I don’t think you should be alone with anyone right now. We don’t know who’s behind this.”

I arched a brow at him. “Then what are you doing here? I clearly shouldn’t be alone with you.” My inner bitch was coming out, and I knew it. Ford had been nothing but kind and helpful and supportive in the past ten hours, but that sweetness was dangerous for my heart. I had to keep it at arm’s length.

Ford scowled. “I don’t count. Neither does Hunter, Crosby, Caelyn, Kenna, or my parents. Everyone else stays on the suspect list.”

I gaped at him. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled and turned back to placing pot shards in the thick plastic garbage bags we used to line our recycle bins in the bar—they could handle anything.

“Come on, Trouble, time for a break.” I kept right on sorting. Ford chuckled. “I asked Pietro to make you whatever was your favorite comfort food.”

My movements slowed as I sniffed the air. “Lasagna?”

“With parmesan garlic bread, and four different desserts.”

I placed the pot shard in the garbage bag and pushed to my feet. “You play dirty.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “The kitchen is an even bigger mess than the living room. We’ll have to eat on the couch.” While all the throw pillows had been destroyed, my couch cushions had miraculously remained intact.

“That’s fine. I’ve got silverware, plates, everything we need.”