Crew kept everything. His personal emails and phone records with Kendall are the highest stack. He even kept a concert ticket stub with Kendall’s phone number scribbled on the back.
It’s from the night they met. Crew said he spotted her across a packed mosh pit, and he knew in an instant that she’d be his wife one day.
I won’t lie. I swooned like crazy during his story, and then I had to fight back tears.
Stupid hormones.
I ought to go easier on myself. To be loved like that is the greatest gift a man could give a woman. It is most likely what Kendall has held on to all these years, and what has kept her going.
Crew is as meticulous with his notes as I am, and as we break them down, hope flickers like a candle inside me. We’re making progress, yet despite my excitement, I can’t miss how often Grayson glances at his watch.
He’s hiding the cause of his distraction, but I know him too well. He’s meant to gallop in on a white horse and save Cameron in a little under forty minutes. The drive from the hotel to her apartment is thirty-five minutes. He’s cutting it close, and his concern about his possible tardiness dots his brow with sweat.
I tickle Grayson’s arm, my breath hitching when a spark jolts through my hand. I brush it off because of the love bubble Crew’s stories formed. It doesn’t belong to me.
“Go,” I say, stealing Grayson’s focus from my sister’s sale documentation. “I’ve got this.”
He stares at me with furrowed brows for half a second before he shakes his head. His brisk shake wafts the scent of my shampoo through my nose. “No. I am as invested in this case as you are. I want to stay.”
Though I value his support, he can’t heal until he focuses on himself. “I’ve got this,” I say again, squeezing the section of his arm he slapped while recalling how Cameron clung to him.
Reminding him of her fear from that night is cruel, but I’ll do anything if it’s for the greater good.
He searches my face for any signs of regret about my offer. When he fails to find any, I give him my best reassuring grin.
Finally, he gives in. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. I promise.”
He acts as if I never spoke my last two words. “Anything, freckles. I don’t care how minute it seems.”
“I will.” I keep my reply short, confident that if my voice were to crack, he’d never leave.
His lips brush my temple, and he sucks in a deep breath before he dumps enough notes onto the table to pay our bill three times over and heads for the nearest exit. When he leaves, my heart only cracks a smidge. I’m being the bigger person. That should be rejoiced, not commiserated.
Crew peers at me over the glasses balancing precariously on his noticeable but still-dainty nose. “Freckles?”
I try to bite back my smile, but it appears anyway. “It’s a long story.”
He dumps his pen onto a file, unflinching when it rolls into his lap. “I’ve got all day.”
My pulse quickens as I graze my bottom lip with my teeth. “It will take longer than a day to unravel…that.” I relish the warmth spreading across my chest, which announces that everything isn’t as lost as believed. Even with Grayson racing across the city to meet with his long-lost love, I am content. That doesn’t mean I have hours to gossip, though. “And we have extremely pressing matters that require our utmost attention.”
Crew hesitates for several seconds. “Rain check?” I feel like I’ve found a lost family member when he mumbles under his breath. “Because if he wants to date my future sister-in-law, he’ll need a thorough once-over.”
I laugh, the jingle foreign and unexpected. “He doesn’t want to date me. We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Hm-hmm. Friends. Right,” Crew murmurs before he gathers his pen from his lap and transfers a handful of notes from the margins in my textbook-sized file into an equally fat binder.
Crew and I spend the next several hours poring over Kendall’s file. He’s so sharp he asks questions I hadn’t even thought of. We’ve connected several dots, and the optimistic flicker I mentioned earlier has grown into a wildfire.
We’re going to find her. I can feel it.
As Crew drives me home, we exchange numbers and agree to keep each other abreast of any developments we unearth. We are collaborating on this case; however, as with my placement onGrayson’s team, my consultancy role with Crew’s agency must remain under wraps.
It is better this way. Safer. This syndicate has nabbed too many victims, and Crew refuses to let them add another Machini to their long list.
Crew gives me a quick, awkward hug at the front door of my apartment, then waits until I’m safely inside before leaving. I wave him off through the lace curtain hiding the incredible view before I head to the kitchen. My plan is chamomile tea while decompressing the day with a slice of pie, but Grayson’s laptop is open on the kitchen counter.
