Toxic Attack: Spirit of the Soul Wine Shop Mystery (A Rysen Morris Mystery Book 2) by K.J. Emrick

chosen to be with Josh, but fate or God Himself kept throwing her and Brandon together.  She just wasn't sure what to make of it.
    "How about we let that go for now?" he suggested, reaching out to take her hand. 
    She looked to the door, expecting Josh to be standing there to see this, too.  She was almost disappointed when there was no one there.
    Still, she didn't take her hand away.
    "Tell me the rest of it," she said, feeling his fingers curl around hers.  "You said there was something more."
    "Right.  Turns out the police found a connection between the dead woman and the delivery truck driver we busted last month.  Their bank accounts are tied to the same bank account.  Both of them got paid from that account.  Someone hired both of them.  I wouldn't be surprised if they hired the bald guy in your cellar, too."  He put a hand to his head like he was remembering the events in the cellar.  "It's a good first step, anyway.  Maybe now we can find out who the real person behind all this."
    "They don't know who the bank account belongs to?"
    "Not yet.  It's under a fake name, and I'm betting it leads to another fake account, and another, and so on.  Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks."
    She didn't know what to say.  All of these people, hired by a single, shadowy bastard who they didn't know.  How could anyone hate her sister that much?  Robbed, assaulted, laid up in the hospital.  Who would do that?
    And why?
    Rysen didn't know those answers.  Yet.  She would have to put all of her new found sleuthing skills to work solving this riddle.
    For now, all she knew was that Brandon's hand felt good in hers.  Warm and strong and comforting.  Brandon didn’t expect anything from her, and he was always there when she needed someone's help.  As guys went, he was wonderful.
    There was a fleeting moment when she knew this was what she wanted in her life.  This, right here.  Even the dangerous situations they kept falling into.  It was that simple.  Or, it should be.  Shouldn't it?
    Why couldn't things be this simple all the time?
    ***
    The next morning, Rysen awoke to the smell of pancakes wafting up from downstairs.  She smiled.  Christina must be back from the hospital, her sleepy mind reasoned.  Stretching, she rolled out of bed and put on her slippers, then padded down the hallway still in her pajamas. 
    She was halfway down the stairs when she remembered Christina wasn't going to be released from the hospital until tonight.  Rysen was supposed to pick her up, for that matter.
    So who was downstairs making pancakes?
    When she came around into the kitchen she saw him.  Tall, imposing, and very out of place flipping pancakes on an electric griddle.
    "Uh.  Good morning, dad."
    He scooped a pancake up and placed it over onto a plate that held a growing stack.  "Good morning to you, too.  I thought you might like some breakfast."
    "Well I usually eat breakfast in the morning, so that's good timing."  Was that a smile she saw on his face?  It was there and gone so quickly she couldn't be sure.  "Dad, what are you doing here?"
    With his back to her, he shrugged and poured out more batter.  "Like I said, I'm making you pancakes."
    "Okay…"  She didn't get it.  The last time she'd spoken to her father he had practically frozen her out and then stormed out of the room like all the men in her life had been doing recently. 
    Every one of them except Brandon, that is.  Something else to consider.
    She sat down at the kitchen table, feeling awkward in her pajamas and still confused.  The silence continued for a long time as her dad put together plates of golden brown pancakes with syrup and strips of crispy bacon.  He put one plate in front of her, and sat down with the other one, folding out a napkin onto his lap.
    As she stared at him, he cut into his three pancakes, took a bite, and chewed.  It was like this was a normal thing for them, something they did every day, like