Page 79 of Serving the Maestro

After putting her spoon down, she picked up a glass of wine and sipped. She lowered it slightly as if she knew she’d need another drink in the seconds before asking, “You know what happened, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” A heavy breath burst out of me—I felt like I’d been gorging on oxygen to keep my rage in check, but that same rage made it hard for me to breathe right, so the trapped air in my lungs had everything feeling tight, imprisoned, my ribcage far more restrictive than I could ever recall. “Ah...don’t get mad at her, but Cam called me.”

“Cam?”

I picked up my wine and nodded before taking a drink. I’d already had one drink today and knew I shouldn’t have any more than this, but for now, I was in a fuck it all mood—all that mattered was Jazz.

“She told me she was worried about you—is worried.” I hesitated, then smiled. “I wanted to come anyway.”

Jazz touched my cheek, brows drawn together. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” I took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Because you’re in my every thought, under my skin. I feel you with me even when we’re separated by thousands of miles. I needed to see you and tell you that.”

A look of wonder filled her eyes, and she leaned forward, pressing her brow to mine.

I kissed her gently, then pulled back, cupping her chin.

She swallowed before offering a shaky smile. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.”

One of the tangled knots in my chest loosened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” With a hard sigh, she added, “I might consider not being mad at Cam.”

“Do that.” Hoping I wasn’t about to make it worse, I asked, “Can you tell me what happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But I’m having a hard time not hunting this bastard down and killing him, based on what I know.”

“I don’t know much.” Her eyes moved past me, taking on a far-off look before refocusing. “Let’s go sit down, okay?”

A few moments later, in the living room, she sat curled against me, her drink in hand and her head on my shoulder. She started talking about running into Roger shortly before I’d left New York, then the double-date with Cam and Danny, and how that had ended in a blur of black and emptiness and her waking the following day with no idea of how she’d come to be in Roger’s apartment.

“And the doctor’s sure there’s no way to ascertain any sign of drugs?” I asked as she came to the end, her voice soft and husky.

“Yes.”

“Where was the bar?”

She lifted her head to look at me. “Why?”

I considered lying and decided against it.

“Because I bet, he’s done this before. I was thinking about going by there, find out if he’s a regular, and maybe ask a few questions.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. After a silent moment, she told me, “I doubt you’ll get much of anything asking around. The place was packed.”

“I know it’s a crapshoot. But I’ll try anyway. It can’t hurt.” Kissing her forehead, I cupped the back of her neck. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened, Jazz.”

In response, she just cuddled closer, and I held her tight.

If there were any way to find answers—and make that prick pay—I would find it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

JAZZ

Jerking upright in bed, I gasped for air.

Trent was lying next to me. His body solid and warm, and all I wanted to do was curl into him, wake him up, and beg him to make the nightmare disappear.

A soft, deep breath escaped him as I wiggled closer. His arm came around me, and I burrowed closer.

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