His car.
Declan takes off in the car at a smooth, leisurely pace toward Manhattan via Astoria. Industrial melts into suburbia and bars. He doesn’t say another word to me as I gulp in deep breaths, and he turns onto a bridge.
My heart slams against my chest as we get farther away. Was I supposed to meet the dead cop for info on Daddy? Or was someone else going to show up with what I needed?
Could that someone have been one of theguys Declan shot?
Shit, what if the man holding Daddy is dead now? What if he…? I force myself to calm down. No. The man who’d demanded money from Mom would never have gone to that shithole. Leon said the guy would probably send a rep in his place who would deliver the information on Daddy. Leon offered to come with me to the meeting so I wouldn’t be alone.
Leon was the only one I could trust with this. Where else could I turn? Mom? She ignored the note that arrived. She’d never have gotten involved with that deadly truckyard rendezvous.
The man wanted money, I heard mother saying to someone, money she wasn’t about to pay.
Now a cop’s dead. And maybe the man who has Daddy is, too.
And Leon...
All I know is I need to talk to Leon. He’s the only one who might have answers. Maybe he uncovered something after Declan hustled me out of there.
Declan crosses the bridge and pulls into a spot along a curb.
We’re in Manhattan, but we might as well be on the moon.
Declan twists in his seat to face me. His sensuous mouth—the one that made me fall apart in dark corners, the one that kissed someone else—is set in a straight line.
I might still want him. God knows my body wants him. But I don’t like him. He lied. He ghosted. He cheated.
“Why the fuck were you there, Marlowe?” His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
I force myself to hold his gaze. “My dad’s missing. Someone sent my mom a ransom note, and she refused to pay the money, refused to even acknowledge it. So I tried to handle things myself.” The words come out defensive. “My boyfriend…Leon…said he had a contact who might be able to help.”
“And you believed him.” Not a question. An accusation.
“I was desperate.” My voice cracks on the word. “I’m all Dad has, since my mother obviously doesn’t care at all.”
He leans over, hooks my shirt beneath my hoodie, the brush of his finger holding more potent power than a thousand kisses from someone else. And then he pulls me close, right up to him.
I’d be in his lap if the side of his seat and the center gear console weren’t in the way.
“Who was your boyfriend’s contact?”
“I don’t know. It could have been the dead cop, for all I know. But Leon was there. I told you I saw him. Although, I have no idea if he’s alive or dead at this point. And without him, I have nothing to go on. No information. No leads.” My eyes narrow. “Happy? Now you know everythingI do.”
His gaze suddenly snaps back to a pinpoint, laser focus. “So your boyfriend sent you into that shit show. You think he had another motive, other than helping you? Because it didn’t look like he was afraid of those bullets flying all around him. It looked like he was in on whatever the hell that was.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. He wouldn’t put me in danger like that,” I snarl, trying to tug free, a niggling feeling in my gut telling me I really don’t know Leon’s motivations at all. But I’m desperate enough to find my dad that I believe him. “It’s late. I need to get to bed.”
“Is that an invitation, Molly?”
“No.” I push him and still he doesn’t let go. “Never.”
He draws me in closer, and his warm breath teases my lips, every sense filled with him, consumed by that intoxicating scent of him. “You humping my gun and letting me finger you says otherwise.”
“Whatever it takes not to have you shoot me,” I say.
Declan releases me. “To each their own.”
He turns back and starts the engine.
