It had been pretty important that night to do something to mark the moment. Everything in me demanded I make her mine forever, but I knew what we had in the desert was tentative. We hoped for so much more, but we couldn’t have it then. I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, yet she’d stolen my heart. That necklace was the only thing I could give her to make it real.
With a deep exhale, I accept what she’s feeling right now over losing it. It’s pretty heartbreaking, and as much as I mean it when I say it doesn’t matter, I know how sentimental that delicate piece of 24-karat gold is.
It’ll turn up. I reassure myself as much as her. And dammit, if it doesn’t, I’ll fucking buy her another one. Maybe the new one will be platinum encrusted with diamonds. I can even have it delivered with the original message.
She stirs, and I hold her closer. She’s upset, but asleep, she looks peaceful. I want her to feel calm and not worry.
Her blue eyes blink open, and her voice is a soft whisper. “Hi.”
The familiar squeeze of love hits me right in the stomach, and I never want it to ease, no matter how many years we pass sharing the same bed. No pacing ourselves, only love, as much and as often as we want it.
“Feeling better?” I smooth my palm over her forehead, back into her hair, but her soft lips press together.
“Not really.”
I roll forward and kiss that ivory forehead, right where my hand just was. “I’m sorry I have to leave with Patrick today, otherwise I’d stay here and tear the house apart until I found it.”
“It’s okay.” She pushes me onto m
y back, resting her cheek on my chest, hugging my torso. “I know this job is important, and I don’t mind searching by myself. It’ll probably be easier because I know where all I’ve been.”
My phone buzzes, and I glance at the clock. “I’ve got to get moving, or I’ll be late meeting Patrick.”
We both sit up, and she wraps the sheet under her arms as her eyes travel around the room, scanning all the baseboards. I know she’ll do it—the whole day, searching.
Cupping her jaw, I kiss her lips lightly. “Try not to worry. I’ll make it right. No matter what.”
Her eyes flicker to mine and she manages a little smile. “Be safe today.”
Melissa is on my mind the entire drive to Raleigh. I want to be there with her and make sure she’s not sad, or worse, crying again. Patrick’s ahead of me on the borrowed bike, and I follow him off the Interstate in the direction of the seedy bar.
Once we’re in the parking lot, he slows down and motions for me to find a spot while he manages the bike. I meet up with him heading into the Skinniflute, but he holds my arm before we enter.
“When we meet with Toni this time, hang back. Let me take the lead.” His brow is tense, and I notice his jaw flex. “She wasn’t too thrilled about working with you.”
Glancing away, I exhale a laugh. “That makes two of us. Sloan Reynolds is used to high-class action, not part-time hookers.”
My partner releases my arm and jerks the metal door open. “She cleans up well, and she owes me a favor. Just let me handle it.”
Following my abrupt departure yesterday, Patrick set up a meeting when she wasn’t on the clock. As a result, Toni Durango is sitting in the same wooden booth waiting when we enter the dive.
As directed, I hang back while Patrick strides over, smiling that cocky grin of his. “Thanks for meeting up with us today.”
A cup of coffee is in front of her, and she sits up, leaning forward over the table. “What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.”
“You quit?” He slides in next to her, and I take my place across the table, hands on the bench at my sides.
“For the fiftieth time. I don’t expect it to stick.” She has the voice of a smoker, low and husky.
I try to picture her “cleaned up” as Patrick put it. Today, she’s wearing thick black eyeliner, fake lashes, and velvet red lipstick. Her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I fully expect to find tattoo sleeves if the leopard-print cardigan she’s wearing over her black tank comes off.
Sloan will not go for this.
Her brown eyes meet mine. “Patrick said the reason you ran off yesterday was about this guy.”
Sliding a glance at my partner, he’s still wearing his lady-killer grin, but his eyes are telling me to take it easy. Like this is my first job.
“He’s an abusive asshole, and I suspect a murderer. My concern is he’s coming after my fiancée, who happens to be his ex-wife.”