He slid his bishop forward, knocking out her most powerful piece and doing exactly that. “I always get my queen. Check.”
***
Evelyn shifted nervously as they headed into the more unsavory parts of Folsom. Not being honest with Lucian didn’t sit right with her, but she had become wholly convinced that something was wrong. She just needed to find Parker and see that everything was okay, and then everything could go back to normal.
They were heading to the craft store by the library, so she hadn’t lied, per se. Still, guilt chafed her insides. Lucian was a stickler about honesty, stating it was a fundamental ingredient to trust. She agreed with him, which made her feel like complete crap. But in this situation, her confirmation that Parker was fine would ease her mind. She didn’t see the need for drama and justifying her actions when all she was searching for was a little piece of mind, especially when Lucian was already stressing over issues outside of their relationship.
Lucian always sent Dugan with more than enough money for anything she needed, but he also left an obscene amount of cash in her top drawer for things around the hotel. She rarely touched that money. It wasn’t hers and she didn’t think she would ever see it any other way. However, today she secretly skimmed two hundred dollars off the top in case she did find Parker and he needed it. As soon as she found a new job she would replace the money she took if that were the case.
Her stomach twisted as old familiar places came into view. It was a distasteful form of nostalgia. This part of Folsom lacked the hustle and bustle flowing around Patras. No one walked around these parts unless it was all they ever knew or if they were hoping to score a hit. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Dugan scowling over the wheel.
“Thanks for driving me, Big D.”
He grunted. “Perhaps next time you need art supplies you could shop online or at the craft outlet by Mr. Patras’s permanent residence.”
Yeah, that would probably make more sense. “This one has the things I’m looking for. I should only be a few minutes.”
She was swallowing more than usual, and a touch of carsickness had her shutting her eyes. Being deceptive sucked.
As they neared the library, Evelyn perked up. Dugan was watching her and she grew paranoid that he suspected her motive for coming to that section of the city, but she came all this way to find Parker, and even Dugan’s surly glances wouldn’t stop her from trying. It would be stupid to come here and be too chicken to actually look. Besides, she could be looking for anything.
Her eyes scoured the alleyways and sidewalks, greedily searching for any flash of life. March was cold and wet, so there wasn’t much more than litter traveling by. A sense of regret filled her as the limo passed the library with no sign of Parker.
They pulled into the strip mall and Dugan parked. There weren’t a lot of shoppers. He came to her door and escorted her to the craft shop. The chirp of the limo’s alarm engaging echoed like a lost crow in a desolate field.
Dugan was like a shadow, bigger than her, always there, always silent. She distractedly filled her basket with materials she hadn’t the slightest idea how to use. She’d made the trip. She might as well get what she told Lucian she needed. Dugan eyed the merchandise quietly.
She turned when he cleared his throat. He held a packaged tool in his hand that looked like a drill.
“It’s a solder gun,” he explained. “If you’re going to be making something with wire you probably want one to secure the ends.”
She smiled at him. Dugan didn’t say much, but he also didn’t miss much. It was lonely sometimes, what with how often Lucian was pulled away on business. She liked to think that Dugan liked her. Moments like this made her believe he did.
She held out her basket. “Thanks, Big D. Put her here.”
He dropped the gun in her basket. “You’ll probably want gloves too. Wires have a way of beating up your fingers. Little girlie hands like yours . . .” his words faded off as his gaze darted back to the shelf. He cleared his throat.
Big softy.
They loaded her basket with so many things, Dugan eventually offered to carry it. She was distracted when they passed the poster section and she spotted black-and-white prints of the city. She flipped through the matted prints. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Patras. The hotel stood like a god among kings.
“Does Lucian have this photograph?” she asked Dugan.
“I don’t usually take notice of what’s on Mr. Patras’s walls.”
“Well, I think he’d like it, don’t you?”