Page 68 of Love Over Time

I chuckled, letting the door lock behind me as I took long strides to catch up to him. “Your VIP client giving you hell?”

“Nah. What makes you say that?” He pushed the call button and turned to face me. “Just work stuff.”

“If you say so.” The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in, pushed the button for the lobby, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Yeah, she should give me hell. Or just give me shit.” Dom gripped something on his back. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t stand so tall.

“Anything I can do?”

“You have a time machine?”

“Sorry.” I shook my head once.

“Then, no. Just go get Nikki.”

“I hope this asshole has something we can use,” I said. Dom needed space, but I made a mental note to ask about his VIP client again.

So much still didn’t add up for me. The last time Dom and I were here asking about Mom, the bartender had been way too helpful, as if he’d been expecting us. He’d had answers ready for us. In the moment, I hadn’t given it much thought because I was desperate for news of Mom. That much hadn’t changed, but this time around, I knew what I was getting into. This time I wasn’t here blindly asking for scraps. I knew exactly what questions to ask.

When we reached the lobby, I slipped out of the elevator the second the gap was big enough to fit through and headed straight for the bar. I zoomed in on the bartender as soon as I entered the bar, with Dom close behind me. The bartender glanced over his shoulder toward the storage room behind the bar and then back to the balcony overlooking the city.

In the dim-lit room, no one noticed what was going on except the three of us. Dom took long strides toward the back room, and I rounded up on the other end. We had him blocked. The wild look in his eyes told me we were onto something. Energy surged through me in blasts, and my muscles quavered.

He made a run for it. I glanced upward with a quickthank-you. I needed this. I needed an outlet for all this anger I felt, for all the frustration bottled up inside me. I’d been an asshole earlier for taking it out on Dom, but this guy deserved every bit of it.

My legs jerked into a run. I chased him into the courtyard, leaving behind me the gasps of the patrons scattered throughout the room. Flitting images of his face smacking against my fists crossed my mind as I jumped the low wall and followed him down the rabbit hole, or cliff in this case. I wanted answers. Dry small shrubs pricked my legs, and dust scratched the back of my throat, while I scampered to catch up to him. Several feet down, he hopped onto a stone path and went down a set of concrete steps that led into the parking lot below us.

My feet hit the asphalt, and in three strides I gained on him. We had all night to do this cat-and-mouse game, but I needed answers now. I leaped and threw my whole body against him, bringing him down with a heavy thud. His face smashed against the pavement, not my fist, but close enough. He was in pain, moaning, eyes wet.

“Where the fuck is Scott? Does he work here? Or did you make that up before?” I rolled him onto his back and gripped his collar. The fabric of his shirt bunched up under my grip.

He put his hands up, palms scratched and bloody. “No. He doesn’t work here. He’s a friend. He does jobs for me.” The answers poured out of him.

“Where is he?”

His eyes went big, mouth open, as if he knew I wouldn’t like his answer. He swallowed, and I slammed him against the ground. “Fine.” He clutched my arm, and I pushed my knuckles against his Adam’s apple. “He’s with that lady. Francesca is her name. He works for her now.”

“What?”

“Oh man, he’s already singing?” Dom came up from behind me. “Tonight sucks.”

The bartender slithered backward. I let go of his shirt, put a knee on his chest, and clasped his throat with one hand, pushing down on it hard. “Tell me about Francesca.”

“That night. She was with them. The woman in the picture and another guy. When they took off, she came to me and asked me to let her know if anyone came asking for them.”

“Asked or paid?” Dom asked.

“She…she paid me.”

Cold sweat ran down my back as the full picture behind the recording fell into place. Francesca whimpering in the background. That had never been her style. Had it all been an act? Had Francesca been there when Jonathan killed my dad? Or had she been the one to give him the deadly blow? Mom had been so scared the day I saw her in the garden. She’d been afraid of Francesca. I’d underestimated her, assuming all Francesca cared about was her social calendar filled with tea parties and baccarat.

“Did she pay you to come after me?”

He nodded. “Before you and him came looking for Scott, she showed up at the bar. She wanted to know if anyone had come by looking for a woman. I told her I hadn’t seen anyone and gave her Scott’s number. She was pissed when she left. Later, Scott texted, and you know the rest. We were supposed to take you somewhere far away from here and make sure you didn’t ask any more questions.”

“Scott is with her now? Where?” I asked.

“Not sure. But last time I saw him, he said he had a gig some place up north. Something creek. Um.”

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