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“Is this Mr. Phoenix Aalto, owner of Phoenix Rising?”

The authority in the voice shot fear down my spine, and I sat up and cleared my throat.

“Yes, I’m Phoenix. Is anyone hurt?”

There was a pause, enough to make my heart squeeze hard in my chest, making my fingers numb and tingly. Wondering who would be at the bakery on New Year’s Eve, picturing each of my friends and my employees, sent a panic through me.

The authoritative voice brought my focus back to the man on the other end of the line until he dropped the news that sent me off kilter.

“Well, Mr. Aalto. I’m Detective Sandoval, and I can assure you no injuries are associated with this crime. Someone set off your silent alarm and when we arrived, we found most of your windows broken out and the place ransacked, but no one at the scene. We need you to come down here and speak with us.”

Without waiting for him to finish, I crawled off the bed and went to the closet, searching for my clothes. My breaths were sawing in and out of my chest, making my vision blurry, but I pushed down as much of the panic threatening to surface.

Or at least I tried.

Warm, familiar hands clamped down on my shoulders and squeezed, pulling me back against a wide, hairy chest, allowing me to inhale a deep breath.

“Yes, Detective Sandoval, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I hung up, and I turned into Luka’s hold and gasped out a sob, unable to hold my emotions together any longer.

“He couldn’t leave things alone. That motherfucker trashed my bakery. He couldn’t just leave me alone and live his fucking life! Well, if he wanted a war, he’s going to get one now.”

Burton, who was leaning against the doorjamb, smiled and said, “Is it wrong I find an angry Phoenix a tremendous turn on?”

Surprised, I laughed through my tears as I wiped them away.

“No matter what happened, we can fix it. We’ll save what we can, but it’s all restorable,” Luka promised.

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes and spilling over, “I know, but it’s a shock, getting the call early in the morning. I’m grateful no one was there.”

Burton wiped at my tears as Luka kept an arm around my waist. Both men kissed me, comforting me, allowing me several minutes to breathe and get my equilibrium back before we separated in order to dress.

For the life of me, I didn’t remember walking downstairs or getting into the truck, much less the drive to my bakery, but when the red and blue lights flashed against the broken glass on the sidewalk, anger welled inside me and my mind snapped into sharp focus.

Stepping out of the truck, I walked up to the man dressed in a suit, looking tired yet determined, and I asked, “Detective Sandoval?”

When he nodded, I held out my hand, and he shook it.

“I’m Phoenix Aalto and this is my bakery. These two men are Luka Kavka and Burton Horváth, my partners.”

Although all our friends knew about our relationship, pride surged through me as I introduced them as mine to a complete stranger for the first time. And I already liked the detective when this information didn’t even cause an eyebrow raise or a follow up question asking to clarify our relationship.

It was a thrilling realization.

Luka and Burton kept a hand on my back, protecting me and sending me a silent message that I wasn’t alone.

“Follow me,” Detective Sandoval said.

I blinked away the tears that formed when I walked into a disaster.

While the sizable plants remained untouched, the potted ones on the tables lay broken on the floor. But the prime target was the counter.

Every afternoon, I removed the cash and made a deposit, but it didn’t stop whoever did this from pushing the heavy antique off the counter and denting the wooden floor. My heart skipped a beat when I turned and found the entire bakery case smashed, including the stands inside. All the lights lay in shards, but with a quick assessment of the damage, the glass and lights were the only things that needed replaced.

But my kitchen was the center of the damage.

The ovens were intact, but my heart dropped to see the thick glass shattered. Bowls were strewn about, the glass ones broken and anything plastic dropped in the oven or on top of my gas stove, which melted, and the stench in the kitchen made my eyes water. My three industrial mixers, the refrigerators, and everything stainless steel tagged with spray paint, adding to the lovely scent, making me want to retch.