Page 37 of Release You

“Okay.” He grabbed his phone. “But you may want to take a look at this.” He held up his screen.

The image looked like a still taken from a security camera.It was blurry, but I had no doubt that was Mom by the fireplace out on the restaurant patio, the one a few yards from me. She was holding a glass of champagne and standing on her own two feet. According to the date, she’d been here three days ago, the same day my uncle had been here. They’d been here together. I read the text:

This the lady you’re looking for? I remember her.

“What the fuck does this mean?”

Mom couldn’t be part of this. I riffled through the scattered memories in my brain. When I saw Mom in the garden, she had been practically paralyzed, as though whatever illness struck her when I was a kid had consumed her. How was it possible that she was healthy again?

Francesca had said she was getting her medicine. Was that medicine some kind of miracle drug that could take Mom from being in a wheelchair to sipping champagne as if time hadn’t gone by? Or was it all a ruse? That would be impossible. Mom hadn’t known I was coming to the manor that day. The note she’d left behind was proof that she wasn’t well, that she was afraid. Her fear had been real. I remembered that clearly. I fell back onto my barstool and downed the rest of the whiskey to wash away the bad taste in my mouth.

“I realize I’m not your lawyer and we practically just met. But I can see it in your face. You’re going through a million scenarios, all of which mark your mom guilty of something terrible. But listen, before you call the inquisition on your mother, let’s wait and find out what really is going on. Innocent until proven guilty.” Dom finished the rest of his drink.

“Does he know if she walked out of here on her own?” Innocent until proven guilty. Right, but how much proof did I need? At every turn, I found myself stretching the truth not to hate Mom. “We have to find the guy that sent you that text. He has to tell uswhat he knows.”

Dom stood. We were the same height, same build. He eyed me as if sizing me up. “You up for a road trip?”

“You think he knows more?” I tilted my chin and pointed at his phone.

Nodding, he pushed my twenties toward the bartender. “This is yours. Put our tab on Cole’s account, would you?”

The bartender grinned, pocketed his tip, and handed Dom a business card with writing on it.

“Who’s Cole?” I ignored the pang of jealousy that spread across my navel.

“He owes Nikki.” He smirked. “Got an address here. You coming?”

“Does he now?” I clenched my jaw.

The more I knew of Nikki’s world, the more I realized ten years was a long-ass time. We were completely different people now.

“It’s a long story. Short of it is, Nikki stuck it to him, and then she unstuck it. So now he feels he owes her.” He handed the valet guy a few folded bills.

“Is there anyone who doesn’t owe Nikki something?”

“This is what she does. I’ve seen her in action. Trust me—if she says she can solve this for you, she will.” He stepped onto the hotel driveway and pointed at the black SUV. “This is us.”

When I turned around, a stunning woman dressed in a white dress rushed toward Dom. She met his gaze and slowed her pace. Hers was a guilty face if I ever saw one. Christ, was I getting tired of beautiful women with a hidden agenda?

“Hi. Emilia Prado.” She offered me her hand, and I shook it.

“Henry Cavalier. I’m a friend of Nikki’s.”

Next to her, Dom shook his head. “Well, friend of Nikki’s, we gotta go.” He wrapped his fingers around Emilia’s arm and ushered her to the SUV waiting at thecurb.

“She’s coming with us?” I followed close behind.

“Yes. She’s one of my clients. Very important. You’re in the front.” He opened the car door and gestured for Emilia to get in. “Ms. Prado.”

She slapped his hand away and climbed into the back seat as they whispered back and forth. After a while, Dom turned his attention back to the front seat.

“Vic, this is Henry. Henry, Vic. Got an address.” Dom handed Vic the business card.

Vic glanced at it for no more than a second before he tossed it onto the dashboard with a curt nod.

“Where are we going?” I picked up the business card. It had an address on the south side of town. “You really want to drive to Guadalupe right now?”

“It’ll be fine. I already called for reinforcements. If anyone can handle a bartender with important information, it’s Nikki.” Dom tapped Vic’s shoulder.

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