If I ever wanted anyone in Pelican Bay to believe Broadrick wasn't an imaginary ex-boyfriend-something Pearl suggested when we'd broken up after two years of dating when no one had met him-I needed to introduce him to Katy. Once she saw his face and those arm muscles, she'd get it. I just had to keep him in the bakery long enough to grab her.

"Stay here," I said, turning back to look at him one last time before I slipped through the metal kitchen doors in the bakery.

He smiled and gave me a quick nod but didn't vocalize his agreement. Whatever. I'd help the customer and then get the introduction out of the way. Three minutes tops.

Totally doable.

I shook out my hands and had a smile on my face by the time my toes hit the front part of the bakery.

"Damn it." I clutched a fist at my side to Katy's retreating form as the bakery door closed on her and she turned down the street toward the bed-and-breakfast.

Rather than my helpful blonde friend waiting to meet my ex-boyfriend, a six-foot-tall, leather-wearing biker leaned against the counter with both his eyebrows raised at my swear word. And he wasn't just any regular biker from the town's only biker gang.

No, he was the leader. "Hey, Dominick."

His leather vest had patches covering it. I had no idea what they meant but decided on the spot they related to how many people he'd killed over the years. I didn't know what bikers did besides kill people, ride bikes, and party. Honestly, I was only ten percent sure on the killing part.

I turned to get his to-go coffee ready for him but not before I caught his expression turning into a tight-lipped glare. "Most people call me The Impaler, Vonnie."

"Uh-huh, but I can't." I poured his coffee into the largest cup we offered. Black and he wouldn't even let us cover it with our cute seasonal cardboard sleeves that stopped the cups from burning your hands.

The biker guys were so boring.

"Why's that?"

Most people in town might know Dominick as The Impaler, his frightening biker name, but at the Bakery by the Bay, he was just Dominick. We weren't quite stupid enough to push the line and call him Dom.

Not to his face, anyway.

"Pearl."

Dominick passed me a ten-dollar bill as I rang up his coffee and placed the left over six dollars in the tip jar on the counter. We had a deal. I didn't ask him about biker stuff and he tipped well.

It took me six months of badgering him about his latest dirty deeds every time he stopped in the bakery, but it finally worked, and I reaped the benefits in big tips anytime he or one of his crew graced us with their presence.

"Pearl Ashwood doesn't get to tell people what to call me," he growled around the words and if there hadn't been a big scary SEAL hiding in the back, his threat definitely would have had my knees knocking.

But I didn't want to lose my cool status around him or my big fat tips, so rather than cower, I shrugged a shoulder and let my gaze find the bakery door. "You should tell her that."

Dominick whipped around and stared at where Pearl in the flesh walked toward the bakery door. "Maybe I will."

He stalked off after her, his thick biker boots trudging against the tile floor with heavy clops. I gnashed my teeth together, hoping I didn't just sick a biker gang against the legendary Pearl Ashwood. No one would forgive me if I got her killed. She was a Pelican Bay staple.

Dominick trudged to the door, threw it open, and then watched Pearl walk up the bakery steps.

She stopped beside him and patted his cheek as he mumbled something to her. I didn't hear over the traffic on Main Street and the gusts of icy wind as they whipped around the open door from outside.

He shook his head, and once Pearl was safely inside, he let the door close with Pearl inside and him out. Pearl stomped her heavy winter boots on the thick rug in front of the door and unzipped the puffy black coat she used to keep warm.

Under all the winter ensemble, she wore a bright pink matching sweatsuit. My eyes widened as I took in the look in its entirety and then quickly schooled my expression. If she sat along the side wall across from the register like she normally did, she'd blend right into the hot pink walls of the bakery.

"Tea and a muffin?" I asked, already turning to make her order. Most of the locals had a favorite, and Anessa liked us to remember them.

A chair scraped against the tile floor as Pearl pulled out her seat. "Yeah, make it a chocolate muffin today, please. Any news on your murder victim?"

I finished up her order and walked it to her table with slow and steady steps so I didn't drop her tea everywhere. I'd never dropped a cup before but didn't plan to start then. "No, nothing. I can't figure out this cheating angle."

It made little sense. The more I looked into Jimmy's cheating, the more I didn't believe it. He loved Jalinda. I also suspected he hadn't killed her. Which sucked because I now had no leads on who did kill her.

Pearl dunked her tea bag a few times in the cup and hummed. "Why do you think Jalinda thought he was cheating?

I shrugged, and I hated when I had to shrug about a case because that meant I didn't know, and not knowing meant I hadn't solved it, and not solving it meant I hadn't gotten paid.

I needed to get paid.

Although. I tapped my finger against my chin. Regardless of what happened with Jalinda, I wasn't getting paid, and our agreement wasn't for her murder but for the cheating. Didn't mean I wouldn't solve her murder. Free of charge.

I just had another case that I could make rent from solving.

"Do you have any fresh evidence?" Pearl asked before I changed the topic.

I shook my head, definitely not telling her about the stolen candy in the back cooler. If she knew about that, she'd be posting pictures on the private Facebook group trying to get someone to identify it.

"No, but I made up missing dog flyers for Brent. Mrs. Coogs hired me to find her dog. Did you know she named her dog Brent?"

Pearl scoffed. "Mrs. Coogs is a weirdo, but at least Brent is a better name than Princess Whiskers Wannamaker."

"Who in the hell named their dog that?" I returned to my spot behind the counter, almost tripping over where I'd pushed Katy's box underneath the space and upended a trash can.

"Not a dog. A cat but still disgraceful. The poor thing is embarrassed, I'm sure. As for Brent, his disappearance is intriguing. Are you sure she didn't accidentally kill him?"

"What?" I asked, my foot jerking at the random comment and kicking the box. "No."

I mean. I didn't think so.

Probably.

It looked like she really loved the dog. Were those guilty tears rather than worry?

Pearl sipped her tea with her head tilted in my direction. We stared at one another, and when she realized I wasn't talking, she did. "I'm not accusing Crazy Coogs of murder, but she never let that dog out of her sight. How'd he even go missing in the first place?"

"She says he ran away with the hussy cat next door."

Pearl strained her lips together to stop the tea from spewing on the table but had to dabble some from the corners of her mouth. "That's something she'd believe. Easier than admitting she is a nut job. The phone tree will salivate over the information on if and where you find Brent. Make sure and let me know first."

I'd been about to ask her exactly what she had against the crazy dog lover when the pink bell above the door cut off my words before they formed.

At first glance, I guessed one of Dominick's biker gang groupies, but once my gaze hit the boots, I realized the mistake.