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Hurrying up the path, I punch open the alarm and my gun’s in my hand. “Avah?”
Nothing.
It takes minutes to check.
She’s gone.
ChapterTwelve
AVAH
I feel bad. I honestly do. But I meant it when I told Nicolo I’m not about to be intimidated, even if I am.
The only reason I left is Gregory texted me in a state. Tonight’s bartender called in sick, and he wants me there. It’s a slow night, the text said, because of course he doesn’t think I can handle a busy one.
He gave me a couple of hours, but I’m going in now. I pull up in the lot in the back of the bar.
Taking a deep breath, I try and calm down. Not about work. About Dad. About the stalker person. The flowers. Dan. About Nicolo.
I start shaking because I like him too much and I just met him.
When I put stuff away, I didn’t poke my nose into things at his place, but at least I know it’s his. I knew that, anyway, I guess from this morning which seems a lifetime ago. But it’s bare bones. Or maybe that’s just my overactive, over-suspicious mind at work.
“There aren’t any family pictures.”
He said something about losing them when he was young, how he grew up in the system and got into a ton of trouble.
Nicolo said that like he was reading from the back of a cereal box. But not even one picture? I have them, and I lost my mom when I was a baby. Even though Dad pisses me off, I have pictures in frames of him and me. I don’t know, it seems strange.
Or maybe it’s just I’m looking for problems because Nicolo turns me inside out, and I want him.
With a sigh, I go inside. It’s packed when I come through from the back. With a frown, I look around. The bartenders are slinging drinks, these two I haven’t met, a hot dude and a hotter girl, and the barbacks are moving swiftly, making sure the beer bins are full and the tables cleared and wiped down.
What’s really clear is I’m not needed, and if I was, I’d be in over my head.
I pull out my phone, wondering if Gregory changed his mind and hired someone else. But there isn’t a message.
Turning, I knock on his door.
“Enter.”
“Hi, I got your message and . . .” I trail off at the frown on his face.
Like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
His office is cool, small and the heat and noise from the bar hits my back, even from here.
“Why are you here? I don’t do free drinks for employees, and I prefer them to socialize elsewhere. Especially if they’re new.”
I stare at him, my mouth working soundlessly for a moment before I find my voice. “You texted me to come into work.”
“I wouldn’t have a wet behind-the-ears bartender work a weekend night, Avah. And my phone was lifted by some prick this afternoon. So, I didn’t text you.”
“Oh.” I flounder for words but can’t find any.
“That it?” He sweeps a hand over the paperwork and glow of the computer screen. “Because I have work. Orders to fill for Tuesday delivery.”
“Yes, that’s all, I’m sorry to bother you.”
