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“That sounds exactly like Rob.” I smother a laugh behind my hand.
“I wouldn’t worry about Rob. He loves you, and whatever comes next, he’ll be right there beside you the whole time.”
Emotion chokes me, and all I can do is nod.
“Why don’t you help me in the kitchen? I was about to whip up some pork stir-fry with noodles.” Kate stands and offers her hand.
My stomach growls at the mention of food. “That sounds amazing.”
“Good. I’ve got everything ready.” Kate ventures into the kitchen, but I pause halfway across the room and cast a longing look over my shoulder at the door.
At this point, I don’t care about Vic Simmons. I care about Rob. Sweet, caring, wonderful Rob. He’s chasing my demons, and I feel like there’s nothing I can do to help him.
When he comes back, we’ll talk. I don’t want to be without him. Not for another moment. Life’s too short to waste one more minute apart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rob
“What the fuck are you thinking?” I round on my best friend.
Arthur glares at me as he settles back in the cab. The cabbie pulls away from the curb, heading toward the Plaza Hotel.
“I’m getting answers.” He levels me with his gaze.
“We agreed to talk to Richards before heading to the hotel.” Uncertainty twists in my gut. “We can’t go in there half-cocked.”
“Look.” Arthur heaves a sigh. “We need to get answers before this spirals out of control.”
“Exactly. And that’s why we were going to consult Richards before starting an inquisition.” I run my hand across my jaw, agitated at the recklessness of his plan. “Maybe we should call Richards and have him meet us there.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Once we get there, we’ll split up. You take the restaurant. I’ll talk to management.” His eyes glisten in the decaying sunlight. “Someone had to have seen something, damn it.”
“Marcy said one of her stylists has a cousin who works at the front desk. Maybe if you drop her name, they’ll be more willing to help.”
“Which stylist?”
“Liana.”
Arthur nods. “Yes, I remember her.”
The silence stretches for a few blocks. The knot in my stomach expands the closer we get to the hotel. This could end badly if we don’t play it right.
“So what’s our story?” I ask as the city descends into darkness around us.
“The truth, but we keep it vague.” He meets my gaze, unflinching in his determination. “My sister was here with a date on Saturday. They got into an argument in the hallway outside the restaurant. Did anyone see anything?”
“But what’s our reason for asking?”
“Why do we need one?”
I shrug. “We don’t, but they’re not going to be as willing to talk if we don’t have a legitimate reason.”
“Then we tell them the truth. He got physical, and she’s pressing charges.” He cocks his head. “But I wouldn’t volunteer that information up front. Let’s see how far we can get on charm alone.”
The cab pulls up in front of the hotel, and my hands are shaking when I step onto the sidewalk. Arthur pays the cabbie, and together we head into the towering hotel. It’s been an intricate fixture in the skyline for years. But tonight isn’t for admiring the architecture; it’s for getting answers.
There are a few patrons milling around in the lobby. I follow Arthur to the front desk, where he asks for the manager. What did Marcy say Liana’s cousin’s name was? Miles? Mike? I catch a glimpse of the name tag of the man behind the counter. Milo.
