When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

I laugh nervously. “Not to his face, I don’t. It’s confusing to say Mr. Hawk to anyone who isn’t him when his father is also Mr. Hawk.”

“His father favors his first name. Those two are nothing alike.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I’ll keep those opinions to myself,” he replies dryly. “What do you think?”

“I’m too new to have an opinion.”

“Good out,” he teases and he doesn’t seem to have any intention of leaving. “Funny how your name is Allison.”

“Allie,” I say. “I go by Allie.”

“Allie,” he says. “Are you staying with Hawk Legal?’

“I haven’t decided.”

“Can I take you to lunch? Maybe you can fill me in a bit more on your needs and I can be of service.”

There is something highly suggestive in his tone and the way he’s looking at me. “I’m having lunch with Dash Black.”

“Oh right. This is his charity. I don’t know him. What’s he like? An arrogant prick? Most of our clients are.”

“Well, I actually live with him, so, no. I don’t believe he’s an arrogant prick.”

“Well, open mouth and insert foot. Good thing I didn’t actually call him a prick. And actually, isn’t he related to Bella?”

“Half-sister,” I say. “Fortunately, she doesn’t think he’s an arrogant prick either.”

“I heard he had some big PR piece today. I’m a little more interested now. I think I’ll read it. The lunch offer is open.” He starts to step away and then says, “You look so much like her. I wasn’t surprised she left, but then, you two are so alike, it’s as if she was still here.” He walks away and I turn to watch him leave.

Why does the way he said “it’s as if she’s still here” send a chill down my spine? I hug myself, bothered by everything about this encounter. And he knew she kept a journal? I’m creeped out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When I arrive at the bookstore, Dash and Neil are already at a table talking. At least, I assume the man with him is Neil. I’ve never actually met him. Adrianna is behind the counter and I wave to her. “You want your usual?” she calls out.

“Yes, please,” I say, which translates to a ham and cheese croissant and a diet soda, therefore justifying the cupcake that will follow. Everyone knows if you drink a diet soda, a cupcake is allowed. It’s logical.

I arrive at the table and Dash and Neil both stand up. Neil is about Dash’s age, and also like Dash, is wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He’s tall, muscular, but lean, and his hair is buzzed, almost as if he just got out of the Army, which I assume means he’s ex-Army. He shakes my hand and says, “You follow orders horribly.”

“So says my mother right before I remind her I’m an adult.”

The two men laugh, deep rumbles of masculine laughter, and Neil says, “Point taken.”

Dash kisses me, his hand on my back, especially possessive, which doesn’t strike me as having anything to do with Neil. It’s about Tyler. He helps me with my coat and we share a look that is all kinds of hot. It’s also punched with unspoken words related to that talk I had with Tyler.

We all sit down and I look between both men, already recognizing a comfort between them. They don’t just know each other. They’re friends and I know for a fact Dash doesn’t call many people friend. I’m fairly certain he cut people off after his brother died, but I’ll have to dive a bit deeper into that later. “What do I need to know?” I ask.

“I put together an email file for both of you,” Neil replies. “The most significant point I have to make is that Allison’s phone last pinged here in Nashville. I’ve tried to locate where it’s coming from, but these pings represent a general area. Which,” he adds, “wouldn’t concern me outside of the fact that it’s no longer pinging.”

All the more reason to be concerned, I think, but I try to stay hopeful. “Could that mean she got a new phone?”

“It’s possible,” he says, “but I don’t like the way she just disappeared. And if she wanted to cut people off, she could just change her number.”

“You said she was texting.”

“That stopped as well,” he states. “And we really can’t know who was doing the texting.”

“Who was she texting?”

“A friend of hers from her hometown. A couple of random people. Nothing that’s worthy of note. All of which could have been done to make it look like she was okay when she was not.”

“Then you’re worried,” I say, stating what seems to be the obvious.

“Worried enough,” he confirms. “She has no living family that isn’t way down the chain of connections. I talked to her friends back in her hometown and no one has heard from her.”

“She’s what we would call an easy victim,” Dash adds. “There’s no one to look for her.”