Right through them.
Mariella hadn’t exaggerated.
The restaurant was small and loud and alive. Bowls of pasta landed at the table in quick succession, steam curling upward, the scent of garlic and chili oil cutting through the noise.
For a few minutes, conversation stayed light—comments about the food, about LA traffic, about how good it felt to sit still.
Then Ben joined them—they’d told him where they were meeting.
He arrived just as Andi twirled a forkful of noodles she wasn’t really hungry for. He slid into the empty chair beside Duke, his expression tight, all business.
“You find anything?” Mariella asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Ben nodded once. “I did. April Altman.”
Mariella stilled. “And?”
“I found her,” he said carefully. “Sort of.”
Those two words—sort of—dropped like a warning flare.
“What does that mean?” Andi asked.
Ben folded his hands on the table. “She died in a car accident last year. Highway outside Bakersfield. Single vehicle. No suspicious circumstances.”
Mariella blinked. “She’s . . . dead?”
“Yes.”
Silence pressed in around the table, sharp enough to cut through the restaurant’s noise.
“She didn’t have family?” Duke asked.
“No immediate family. No spouse. No long-term partner. No children.” Ben shook his head.
Mariella’s mouth parted slightly. “Then what are you saying?”
Ben didn’t answer right away. He lifted his gaze and locked it with hers, something sober and unflinching in his eyes. “I’m saying if someone is targeting you guys, it’s most likely not because of what happened to April.”
The words settled heavy.
Around them, plates clinked and laughter rose from another table, the world blithely unaware.
Colin wasn’t behind this.
This wasn’t because of something that had happened in Mariella’s past.
Then what was this about?
It felt like they were back to square one.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
Andi woke before her alarm,the faint gray-blue light of early morning slipping through the narrow gap in the hotel curtains.
She dressed quickly and headed downstairs, the lobby already alive with early risers. Travelers rolled suitcases toward waiting cars, runners stopped in for water, and assistants murmured into phones as if the workday had already started.
