Under the Stars

“If you’re going to mourn, you should at least have beautiful scenery.”

I rock back on my heels, my feelings toward this man conflicted. He seems to genuinely care about them, and I should be thankful.

“So you have no idea where they might be now?”

“I wish I did. I still believe Lara could have a fantastic career as a singer if only…” Turning his arm, he checks the heavy silver watch. “I do need to get to my lunch date, so if that’s all?”

Reaching into my breast pocket, I take out my business card. “If you hear from either one, please let me know.”

He studies it a moment. “I’ll let them know you’re looking for them, Mr. Fitzhugh.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

His smile grows wider. “My loyalty is to the ladies. Not you.”

“And if they committed a crime?”

Gray eyes move up and down my less-fashionable attire. “You’re not a French policeman.”

“I don’t want to arrest them. I want to help them.”

“Then they will be pleased to hear you’re looking for them.”

My room in the Hotel Saint Germaine is small and functional, and once I’m inside, I sit on the bed and book the next flight leaving Paris. I’m no closer to knowing where they went than I was this morning, but I do know they’re both struggling with some emotional turmoil.

Frustration twists in my chest as I wait for my laptop to boot. Why would she do this? Why wouldn’t she let me in? What about my baby girl?

Again I take out my phone, but this time I send a text.

“Lara.” My jaw is clenched. “Where are you?”

Tossing the device on the bed, I rub my temples. This morning, I didn’t even stop to consider how her leaving affected me. I hopped on a train for the city and spent the ride learning all I could about the man who brought her here… only to discover he’s not an asshole and is actually more interested in her singing career. Unexpected.

In New Orleans, Molly was just a kid who wanted me to teach her to draw. Five years later, on the train to Canada, I didn’t even recognize her. She was the femme fatale, and Esterhaus fell right into her hands. She pretended to be an innocent doll, when in reality, she was a cold-blooded killer with an agenda.

I scroll through my emails with Freddie’s words about night terrors lingering in my thoughts. Why do they keep running? Who is left?

I’ll head back to Juneau and search from my office. Hopefully I can get to Lara before they go further down this rabbit hole.

Before someone else dies.

2

“Heads inside a dream.” –Lorde

Three months later…

Lara

Mark’s soft lips cover mine.

My fingers curl in his light brown hair, and I inhale deeply, relaxing in his strong arms. He’s never been timid with his kisses. He’s never been timid with his love-making. Warm breath whispers on my neck, and the tiny hairs on my body rise as his lips trace my ribs, moving lower to my waist.

A soft moan comes from my throat as he loops his fingers around my panties and tugs them aside. He’s always been forceful, and I love it. An aching pulse rises from the center of my body up through my arms and down to the arches of my feet as his lips close over my clit, giving it a gentle pull before circling it with his tongue.

“Mark!” I gasp, my orgasm rising fast.

Circling, pulling, stroking—my eyes squeeze shut, my back rises off the bed. My fists clench in the soft sheets as the irresistible tightness grows stronger in my belly.