Page 25 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

TWENTY-FIVE

I ce slid down Warrick’s spine. A cold, dangerous fury built within him, sharpening his senses until he could hear every water droplet hitting the floor. The playful foam was one thing—potentially embarrassing but ultimately harmless. Cut brake lines crossed into life-threatening territory.

His first thought wasn’t of the station or his reputation, but of Molly. If the saboteur targeted what mattered to him...

“Are you certain?” Warrick asked though he could see the truth for himself.

“Clean cuts,” Ramirez confirmed. “Not wear and tear. Someone did this deliberately.”

Around them, water continued to pour from the sprinklers as firefighters scrambled to shut off the system. Pink foam swirled in ever-widening puddles, its cheerful sparkle now seeming malevolent in light of this discovery.

“Everyone out of the garage,” Warrick ordered. “This is now an investigation scene.”

His team responded instantly to the steel in his voice, clearing the area with practiced efficiency. As they departed, Warrick caught David’s sleeve.

“Stay.”

When they were alone, Warrick knelt to examine the damage more closely. Whoever had done this knew exactly where to cut for maximum effect—knowledge that suggested inside information or careful study.

“This isn’t random,” he said quietly. “Someone wants to hurt us.”

David’s expression hardened. “Or you specifically.”

Warrick glanced up sharply.

“Think about it,” David continued. “The sabotage started after you took over as chief. The timing’s too convenient to ignore.”

A heavy silence fell between them, punctuated only by the steady drip of water from above.

“I need to call Reed,” Warrick said, rising. “And check on Molly.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “You think she might be targeted too?”

The possibility had already taken root in Warrick’s mind, growing with each passing second. His tiger snarled at the thought of anyone threatening his mate.

“The saboteur seems intent on disrupting what matters to me.” Warrick pulled out his phone. “The station, the ball, my reputation. If they know about Molly...”

He didn’t need to finish the thought. David nodded, understanding the unspoken fear.

“I’ll secure the scene for Reed. You make your calls.”

In the relative privacy of his office, Warrick dialed the sheriff first. Reed answered on the second ring.

“Reed? Warrick. We have a situation at the station.”

“The pink foam? Already heard. Small town, big gossip,” Reed replied, amusement coloring his tone.

“It’s more than that. Someone cut the brake lines on our main engine.”

The humor vanished from Reed’s voice. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t touch anything else.”

“Already secured the scene.”

“Good. And Warrick? Anyone come to mind who might have a reason to target you or the station?”

Warrick thought of Gus’s thinly veiled hostility, his convenient appearance just before the sabotage.

“Gus Niles was here this morning. Left minutes before the foam incident.”

A weighted pause. “I’ll look into it. Carefully. Gus has family connections in town—we’ll need solid evidence.”

After ending the call, Warrick texted Molly:

Everything okay at the bakery?

Her reply came quickly:

Fine here! Just wrestling with stubborn cookie dough. Everything okay there? You sound worried.

Warrick hesitated, reluctant to alarm her unnecessarily, but equally unwilling to leave her unprepared.

Had some trouble at the station. Nothing serious, but be vigilant. I’d like to check your wards tonight, if you’re free.

He added after a moment’s thought:

And discuss your potential help with the Fireman’s Ball next month. The department would value your expertise.

Her response made his tiger purr with satisfaction:

Ooooh, professional AND personal! I’m intrigued on both counts. Come by after closing? 7pm? I’ll feed you dinner as payment for ward-checking services rendered.

A smile tugged at his lips despite the chaos surrounding him.

7pm is perfect. I look forward to it.

Warrick pocketed his phone, his resolve hardening. He’d faced countless threats—most far more dangerous than petty sabotage. Yet none had felt so personal because none had come when he had so much to lose.

Not just a job or position, but the possibility of a future with his mate. A home. A life beyond the endless wandering of his past.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Gus appeared in the doorway, his expression a practiced mask of concern.

“Heard about the brake lines,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Nasty business.”