Page 113 of L.O.V.E

“How’s that gonna work, you living in Seattle, her in Whisper Springs?”

“Fuck. I don’t know how this’ll play out.” I stabbed my salad, chewed. Swallowed. “I can’t relocate right now. Opening three more gyms this year. Dad’s not planning to retire any time soon, but he’s slowing down. I’ll be stepping up as CEO in a couple of years. But I can’t ask her to leave her job. She loves it here.”

“She’s only an hour and a half away by jet.” He rapped his knuckles on the table like he’d settled the matter. “That’s no longer than a rush hour commute.”

“True.” Seattle traffic was horrendous. “All I know is I don’t want a future without her. No choice but to make things work.”

Tango nodded, leaned back, crossed his arms. “And if your suspicions about Victoria are true?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

“No easy answer,” was all I could manage. I’d driven myself mad with what-ifs.

Tango glanced over my shoulder, then smiled wide. “Look who the cat dragged in.”

Before I could turn, Tito Moretti planted his ass in the chair next to mine. “Fuckin’ hell. Cole Adams.”

The guy was imposing, from his head-to-toe black garbs, to the scowl, to the new scar on the side of his face. I knew better than to ask.

He offered his hand. The wedding ring took me by surprise.

We made small talk. We ate. I filled them in on my suspicions.

“You’ve checked out her ex?”

“First thing.” I nodded. “He’s in Salt Lake. He could be the one sending the messages, but someone took photos of her with her boss yesterday and possibly followed her home last night.” The thought soured my stomach.

“Can you get me her phone?” Moretti asked.

I slapped her cell on the table. The guy cracked a rare smile. He stood, said, “Give me a day,” and left without so much as a nod.

Tango laughed. I released my frustration on a long exhale.

Brow quirked, Tango asked, “You sure you’re ready for whatever he digs up?”

Was I? Whatever the outcome, Natalie’s safety was my only concern. “Can you two thugs help me hide a body?”

Pacific National Bank stood tall amidst a riverbank forest of pines with mountains and a snowy sky the backdrop. Post Malone played on the radio.

I watched the front door through darkened windows. At 5:11, Natalie exited the building. She paused, bringing a hand to her face to shield the sun, and scanned the parking lot. I tapped the horn. She looked my way, smiled that killer smile, and waved before stepping in my direction.

I’d every intention of meeting her halfway, but stalled, enthralled by the swing of her hips, the sway of her hair, the way that blue blouse clung to her breasts. I was helpless to do anything but drink her in, so damn grateful to be free to ogle the woman without one lick of guilt.

My pulse quickened. Soon she’d be in my arms.

Jesus. Damn.My chest. I offered the good Lord a quick prayer of gratitude, then hopped out of the SUV.

The squeal of tires registered before I’d closed my door. Natalie’s head snapped in the direction of the sound, and before I could set my feet pounding, a black Escalade barreled straight toward my girl.

The horrifying scene played out frame by agonizing frame.

Natalie twisted to avoid the vehicle, and before impact, her arms flew out, then up over her head, and her eyes,goddamn, they squeezed shut as if bracing for impact. Then she was out of sight.

Her handbag hit the windshield, blowing apart, its contents erupting like confetti.

No squealing tires. No crunch of metal. No sickening thud. The SUV sped off.

By the time I reached her, Natalie lay twisted on the pavement, hair tangled around her face, a pool of blood under her head.

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