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Coming back to Rascal’s apartment was more than likely a little reckless, but Wynona needed to speak to someone about what she had learned. She couldn’t tell anyone about the tea reading. First of all...who would believe her? She had no magic, everyone knew that. But also, the experience had been more than bizarre, even for a tea reading. It had almost been like a vision or premonition.
It had left Wynona with a lot of questions, but it had also left her a little frightened. She had been nervous about stepping outside her comfort zone for a lot of this investigation, but this...this was something different.
If the mob was involved in this case, then Wynona wasn’t just in over her head, she was as good as dead.
Even in her tiny bubble in the castle, Wynona had heard whispers about the underground. Like all black markets, there were a couple of bigwigs who ruled particular sections and fought for more power within their world. Like bickering gangs, only much more violent.
At times their world would infiltrate the normal side of Hex Haven, but always in hushed whispers. Most people turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the underground, afraid that if they voiced an opinion, the boogie man would come for them...literally.
Wynona knocked on Rascal’s door, even though she wanted to pound and demand that he let her in. She was frightened and desperate for safety, but this wasn’t how she was going to get it.
She hadn’t escaped thirty years of abuse just to bury her head in the sand and look for someone to take care of her. No. She pushed back her shoulders and forced a confidence she didn’t feel. She hadn’t come for protection. She’d come for advice. Surely as a police officer, Rascal would have more knowledge into what Wynona was looking at.
The door cracked open, then immediately swung wide. “Wynona!” he hissed. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her inside.
Wynona frowned and looked down at the paw that was holding onto her. Within a few seconds the fur and claws had retracted and only his large, warm hand remained.
Rascal pulled back, looking slightly sheepish. “Sorry. Never startle a wolf late at night.”
She made a face. “Is it really that late?” Wynona hadn’t paid any attention to the time when she’d headed over. Yes, it had been dark, but her mind had been on what she’d just learned and how that affected the case. Her time was running out and if she needed to work all night, she would. Problem was, she forgot she couldn’t expect the same of everyone else.
Rascal ran a hand through his hair, which was messier than normal, and glanced at the wall clock.
Wynona winced when she noticed the time. “Sorry. I was caught up in my thoughts and didn’t realize how late it was.”
Rascal sighed. “It’s fine. You’re just lucky Mrs. Reyna down the hall didn’t see you first.” He began walking toward the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Wynona said softly. She gripped her purse with both hands. “Was that the woman who glared at me when I visited the other day?”
Rascal chuckled. “If that’s all she did, then she must like you.”
Wynona settled herself on a barstool while Rascal brewed himself a cup of joe. “Actually, I think it was you she liked. I saw her smiling at you like you’d hung the moon.”
Rascal snorted. “I unclogged her sink. That only bought me about ten minutes of good will.” He turned his head and grinned at Wynona. “I was back to being Rascal by the end of the day.”
Wynona laughed softly. “Nice to know cranky old ladies are the same no matter which species we’re talking about.”
“That they are.” He turned, resting his hips against the counter, and sipped his coffee. “So...what did you figure out now?”
Wynona sighed. “I didn’t exactly figure something out, but I have some questions for you.” She pinched her lips. “I really am sorry about the time. I’ve been so worried about how little time I have left that I just keep going, but it wasn’t fair to ask the same of you.”
Rascal shrugged. “It’s all part of the job. I’ve pulled more all-nighters than a group of college kids studying for finals. Go ahead.”
Wynona took a deep breath. She needed to handle this carefully. Rascal had the power to stop her from investigating any more and she couldn’t take that. Not when the grand opening was so close. “Have you ever dealt with...the unsavory side of Hex Haven?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Doesn’t every cop?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Wynona murmured. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have come. How was she supposed to get him to tell her more without tipping him off to her suspicions?
“Wynona,” Rascal said in a tender tone.
“Hm?” She looked up and jolted a little when she realized how close he was. Maybe it was his bigger than life personality, or his thick muscles, but the distance of the countertop seemed awfully small at the moment.
“What is it?” he asked in a low tone.
She hesitated, then blurted out, “What can you tell me about the underground mobs?”
Rascal stilled, his mug halfway to his mouth. “Have you been threatened?” he asked. This time his tone was menacing, with a slight growl on the edges.
Wynona held back a shiver. She definitely didn’t want to get on his bad side. “No, no threats.”
“But?”
“But what if the murders have something to do with...them?”
Rascal set down his mug and leaned onto the counter. “Explain.”
She dropped his gaze, unable to keep staring at those bright golden orbs without feeling things she shouldn’t. This wasn’t a social call and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. “I was going over suspects this afternoon after you took in Delila and Kayne.” Wynona peeked up from under her lashes. “And the list is short.”
He nodded. “You and Mrs. Droxon, essentially.”
Wynona huffed. “Yes. Neither of which are good suspects.”
Rascal grinned. “Because...?”
Wynona tilted her head and gave him a stern look. “Because I know I didn’t do it, and Maeve doesn’t have a good motive. She literally gains nothing by her husband’s death.”
Rascal scratched his chin. “Good points. But what made you think of the mob?”
Wynona spread her hands sideways. “Who else? I keep going back to the fact that Mr. Skinflayer was trying to steal Chef Droxon’s binder. He managed to get away, but why come back to my office for it? There was no practical purpose for it. Unless...”
“Unless what?” Rascal pressed.
“Unless he was meeting someone,” Wynona said softly. “And my shop just happened to be neutral territory.”
“So you don’t think he was killed because he was mistaken for Droxon?” Rascal frowned.
Wynona shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She leaned forward. “I think the killer knew exactly who they were killing.”
“But why the chef’s clothes?” Rascal asked. “Why be dressed like Droxon if he wasn’t pretending to be him?”
Wynona tapped the countertop. “I’m not quite sure yet. But what if it was simply to throw us off? Perhaps the killer was trying to build a false lead.”
Rascal shook his head and straightened, then whistled low under his breath. “This is quite the conspiracy theory, Wy.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Wy?”
He grinned unapologetically. “I like nicknames.”
“Prim calls me Nona. You could call me that.”
He shook his head. “No thanks. I like Wy.”
Wynona rolled her eyes. “Whatever. But still. Maybe we’ve been looking at this all wrong.”
“It’s possible.” Rascal yawned, his incisors flashing in the light as just a little sharper than a normal person’s. He scratched the back of his head. “But I’m not sure how that works in the long run. Why lead us directly to Droxon, only to kill Droxon? A killer wouldn’t want the police roaming around their next hit.”
Wynona slumped in her seat. “I can’t answer that one.”
Rascal tapped the counter with his palm a few times. “I think maybe we need to sleep on this. You’ve brought up some good points, but it’ll take some time to figure it all out.”
Wynona rose to her feet, understanding the dismissal, but she was frustrated she hadn’t really learned anything. “Can’t you tell me anything about the underground?” she asked as she walked toward the door.
“Stay away from them,” Rascal said in an unusually serious tone. “That’s all you need to know.”
She huffed. “That’s not very helpful. If they killed someone in my shop, how am I supposed to stay away?”
“Are you worried we can’t keep you safe?” Rascal teased.
“Your chief wants me behind bars,” Wynona said wryly. “It probably doesn’t get much safer than that.”
“Actually, I think you surprised him today,” Rascal mused.
Wynona beamed. “Really?”
The wolf put his hands in the air. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty sure he’s not ready to sing songs by the campfire, but when your name was mentioned today, he didn’t break into his usual tirade of how horrible witches are.”
Wynona dramatically wiped her forehead. “Good to know I’m making headway.”
“You planning to become besties with him?” Rascal chuckled.
“Oh no,” Wynona sang out. “I’m just hoping to survive this without him biting me.”
One eyebrow rose ever so slowly. “Biting isn’t all bad, you know...”
Aaaaand, there was that dang flush again. So she wouldn’t embarrass herself further, Wynona squeaked out a goodbye and practically dove into the hallway. She could still hear Rascal’s soft laughter behind her as she walked out to the street and her scooter.
She secured her purse and sat down, strapping on her helmet before glancing up at the area Rascal’s apartment should have been. When she didn’t see him looking through the window, she took a second to fan the heat on her cheeks. “Good heavens,” she whispered to the night. “If the mob doesn’t kill me, dealing with flirty men just might.”