Page 184 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

Fuck.

Marco and I move between offices, warehouses, and the docks while phones ring nonstop around us for the rest of the day. Every lead turns into another dead end. Traffic cameras lose the motorcycle three blocks from the motel. The plates come back stolen. Burner numbers stop pinging before noon. By early afternoon, frustration settles hard beneath my skin because every trail we touch feels scrubbed clean before we can get to it.

By three o’clock, I’m sitting in my downtown office staring at surveillance stills that tell me absolutely nothing useful when I finally remember movie night. Katie’s probably still with Rosalia. Lunch turned into bookstore shopping hours ago if I know the two of them at all. For a second, I consider calling her myself.

I picture her phone lighting up while she’s laughing about something stupid with Rosalia, and the idea of dragging this mood into her afternoon irritates me. Instead, I call Beatrice.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to be late tonight.”

“Ah,” she says knowingly. “Movie night.”

“Katie still out with Rosalia?”

“Yes.”

I lean back in the chair and rub tiredness out of my eyes.

“Don’t interrupt them. Just let her know later.”

“Of course.”

I end the call before she can say anything else and toss my phone back onto the table.

Chapter 66

Katie

Imeet Rosalia for lunch at noon. Last week, I bullied her into buying a cowboy romance for book club. She was aggressively against it, but after suffering through every one of her September picks, I felt entitled. If I had to spend an entire month reading emotionally repressed people staring out windows contemplating grief, then she could survive one cowboy with dirty talk.

I get to the restaurant first. Michael had Enzo drive me again today. For a while, it had been Sal, but Michael told me he doesn’t work for him anymore. Honestly, I prefer Enzo. At first, he barely spoke to me beyond short answers and the occasional nod, but once I got him to laugh for the first time, it was over. Now he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

Last weekend, he drove Michael and me to a charity event and accidentally laughed at one of my jokes. You would’ve thought the man committed a crime. Michael looked up instantly, and I had to smack him in the arm before he could say whatever terrifyingly stern thing had just popped into his head. Honestly, that man can be so damn ridiculous when it comes to his employees.

I ask the hostess for a seat outside. It’s mid-October, and the weather is perfect. A light breeze moves through the patio while people drift along the sidewalk carrying shopping bags and coffees. A few minutes after the waitress takes my drink order, I see Rosalia walking up.

I wave her over, and she drops into the chair across from me looking deeply irritated.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“My driver missed the valet entrance four times.”

I blink. “That’s why you look irritated?”

“Katie, there was a line behind us.”

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh.

Rosalia watches me coolly. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

That only makes it worse. Her problems are endlessly entertaining to me.

“Well, I ordered you a pinot noir if that helps.”

Rosalia reaches across the table and clasps my hand. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

I snort.