Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(57)

She smiled. “Thank you, Cade. I appreciate your support.”

As I walked back to the lobby, a flood of details combined themselves, puzzle pieces clicking into place. The most upsetting one being Madison’s confrontation with Hannah at Loading Zone. Although I had some empathy toward Madison with what she’d been through, her damaging actions were all I could focus on at this point. In full protection mode, a hard edge toward Madison was all I could manage.

When I got to the lobby, I stared out the back windows, watching as waiters spread white tablecloths onto patio tables to prepare for lunch guests. Then I turned and scanned the half dozen people who were in the lobby area. A young female concierge was behind a desk, thumbing through the latest issue of Vogue. Two businessmen sat with papers held high. The coffee drinker held a Wall Street Journal. The one with a USA Today appeared to be sipping a whiskey sour. A pair of teenage girls dressed in tennis uniforms stood a few feet down from me along the glass wall of windows, gossiping about a new instructor and his endless muscles.

A good mix of people in the room served as perfect witnesses—close enough to prevent Madison from feeling comfortable. And as if on cue, heels clicked along the marble floor in a tight-ass rhythm until Madison stepped onto the expansive woven rug beneath my feet.

“Cade.” An irritated expression accompanied her head tip. “What is it you need to discuss that couldn’t be done in my office?”

My eyes narrowed in warning.

On an inhale, she softened her features. “Could we at least have a seat?” She gestured to two empty chairs.

“No. This won’t take long enough to warrant getting comfortable.”

Her lips firmed into a line.

Good. I had her attention.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re busted, Madison.”

She gave me a hard look. “At what?”

I almost laughed. Her crimes probably numbered so high that she wasn’t sure which one I was talking about.

“We know it was you.”

When she opened her mouth, I shook my head.

She shut it without uttering a word.

“We know you pretended to be Kristen. We know you canceled and rescheduled shit. We know you called the health inspector on my bar and Hannah’s bakery. Give it up. My company and your club are about to host an event in a few days. If you value your job at all, focus on cooperating for the duration. Do it for your club members’ sake, if nothing else.”

Although I hoped they’d fire her ass before Saturday, I couldn’t be sure they would move that fast, or that they would believe the evidence we had and act on it at all. So covering our asses by attempting to diffuse the situation before anything else happened seemed the wisest course.

Madison stared at me for a few seconds. Which was plenty long enough for confirmation of her guilt in my mind.

She glanced around the lobby, then shot me a fierce glare. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Michaelson?”

“No. I think we’re good here. Have a nice day.”

On my way out to my bike, I dialed Kristen. She picked up on the first ring. “Sis, you’re not gonna believe this. I just spoke with Suzanne. She confirmed it’s Madison.”

“Holy shit. That’s awesome.”

“Right?” I filled her in on the details, including the confrontation with Madison. My phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen, which showed that Mase was calling in. I let it go to voicemail.

“So that’s it? You think she’ll back down?”

“Hell no. But maybe we bought us time to get past Saturday’s event without drama. Keep your guard up just in case.”

A text came in from Mase.



Emergency. Get to the house now.



“Gotta go, sis. Something’s up with Mase.”





23


Dealing with Disasters


I raced home on my bike, trying to wrap my brain around what the emergency could be. In the couple of years we’d been roommates, Mase had never sent a dire message like that. Clearly he hadn’t lost a hand in some freak accident; he’d texted me. The only other thing I could think of was something had happened to Ava. Or the house was on fire.

As I stepped through the open front door, the cause of the alarm became clear. It wasn’t a fire at all. The exact opposite had happened. Water had flooded everywhere.

Fuck.

My boots slogged through water on the wood floor in the entryway. Down the hall, Ava sat upright on dry tiles, tethered to Mase’s bedroom door by her shortened leash. Her fur glistened—wet.

I took in the scope of the damage in the living room and cringed, my heart sinking. The leather sofa and entertainment center stood in several inches water. Smaller items which usually sat on the floor were stacked haphazardly onto them.

“Mase?”

“In here.”

I walked into the kitchen, every step splashing water. Mase stood near the kitchen sink, arms braced on the counter edge, head hanging down. The wood dining table and chairs were stacked in disarray, some upside down, some upright, on every spare counter surface.

“Dude. What happened?” I struggled to process the mess around me.

He shrugged, then stared at me under heavy brows. “Came home to water pouring out from behind the dishwasher. Tried turning off the valve under the counter, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to run out and shut the water off at the main.”