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“You were explaining the bond between you and Uncle Bryce.”
“Right.” Dad sighs.
“I can’t, Dad. I want to go home. I can’t go see Doc Sheraton. I need time to process all this.”
“I agree with you. If Doc Sheraton is somehow involved in whatever is happening here, we can’t alert him to the fact that we may know.”
He starts the engine, and the truck rattles to life.
“What now, then?”
“We go home,” Dad says. “Then we send our guys out to search Doc Sheraton’s property. People who can stay hidden when they need to. People who are trained for this.”
I swallow, nod, stare straight ahead out the windshield.
And I wonder how…
How in God’s name did this all happen?
CHAPTER NINE
RORY
I’m back in my studio, and after a couple of afternoon lessons, I decide to begin the dreaded job of organizing my music. I’ve been putting it off forever. Now that I’ve got all the boxes out of the apartment across the hall, I can finally get everything in some semblance of order. I always imagined my studio would have shelves and shelves lined with music books, opera scores, and everything in between.
So now I’m going to. In fact, I think I’ll build my own bookshelves too—wooden bookshelves to house my music and my books.
All right here in my own little studio.
Maybe if I get my own place, I’ll move some of it there. Maybe, if I get a big enough place, I can actually have a studio and I won’t need to rent this little place over the salon.
I start to unload the first box when my phone dings with a text.
I need you. Can you come over?
From Brock. I hastily look at the clock on my phone. Wow. Nearly six o’clock. Have I been working on my books and music that long?
I haven’t eaten since lunch at Lorenzo’s.
Of course he’s not offering me dinner. He just asked if I could come over. He’s going to at least have to feed me.
I text him back.
I’m starving. Can we get dinner?
I get a response almost immediately.
I’ll cook. Just please come. Please.
Two pleases?
He must really need me.
Since I’m in love with the man, I’m going to go. If nothing else, I’ll get a meal out of it.
I get to a good stopping point and then lock up my studio and walk down to my car. A little less than a half hour later, I’m meandering up the driveway to the guesthouse where Brock lives.
I get out, and then I stand at the doorway for a few moments without knocking.
