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I pushed off the desk and started in his direction. “Hey, man. Good to see you.” We clasped hands and pulled each other in for a quick back slap before separating. “Good to see you too. You’re right on time. Come on in.” He tipped his chin and stepped to the side, making room for me to pass. “Rox, hold my calls,” he ordered as I closed in on him.
Before I made it past him, I turned to look back over my shoulder at the receptionist. “We’re not done yet. Our little meet-cute is to be continued, darlin’.”
She laughed as Linc clapped me on the shoulder. “You’d never survive her, brother. Trust me.”
He closed the door, rounded the large executive desk against the back wall, and lowered himself into the black leather chair behind it. On top of the desk were stacks of files and documents with a layer of dust on the top page thick enough to tell me he wasn’t a huge fan of paperwork. A large calendar covered the center, with two picture frames that sat at a slant at each corner, facing him.
The first was a wedding photo of him and his wife, a stunning woman with big doe eyes you’d expect to see on a cartoon princess, not in real life. He had her tucked deep against his chest, holding her like she was his reason for breathing. Her head rested beneath his chin, a tiny little thing that stood at least a foot shorter than him, and her hair, somewhere between blonde and brunette, pinned up in a fancy updo for their big day.
The other picture was the two of them again. Linc was still holding his woman in that protective way, but in this one, he had his other arm wrapped around a toddler balanced on his hip. The little girl couldn’t have been more than three years old in that picture, with her momma’s big eyes and coloring and Linc’s blond hair. Both females were beaming at whoever was holding the camera, and while Linc’s smile wasn’t on par with theirs, the man had a look in his eyes like he couldn’t possibly have been any happier with his life than he was in that moment.
I flipped the frame around so it faced me. “Good-looking family you got there, bud.”
His eyes went soft as he looked at his family. “Thanks. Eden, my wife, and our baby girl, Naomi. Girl’s only three years old and already doing my head in,” he said without the slightest bit of exasperation. I was willing to bet he not-so-secretly loved it.
“Happy for you, brother,” I said as I returned the frame to its rightful place and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You built yourself a real good thing here.”
“I’m a lucky bastard, nothing else to it.” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and interlacing his fingers, his palms resting on his stomach. “So, Alma Rossi.”
Just hearing someone speak her name made my chest constrict.
“Alma Rossi,” I repeated. Saying her name cost me. It had since the moment I lost her, but it was a price I’d gladly pay time and time again. I had so many regrets in my life, but knowing her wasn’t one of them. It never could be.
His demeanor changed just then, his expression turning serious. Time to get down to business. “She’s going to be okay with you showing up in her town?”
My gut told me his willingness to help was going to hinge on my response. I could lie and tell him it would be no big deal, but I knew better than to try. If I wanted to get help from a man like Lincoln Sheppard, I needed to be straight up.
“Honestly? No. Probably not.”
His nostrils flared on a deep inhale. “Thinkin’ I’m gonna need a little more than that, Roan. You’re asking me to hand over what I got on a woman who means something tomywoman. I can’t, in good conscience, do that until I know a little more. Who is she to you?”
I let out a breath. “She’s everything, Linc.”
“Christ,” he grunted, sitting up to pick up his phone. “Rox, go ahead and clear my schedule for the rest of the day. This is gonna take a while.”
6
ALMA
“This is bullshit!”
I slowed my pace and glanced back over my shoulder to see Layla a few yards back, hunched over with her hands braced on her knees as she huffed and puffed like she was struggling to pull air into her lungs.
I jogged to a stop and turned on the heel of my running shoe, heading back in her direction. “Hey, you okay?”
She twisted her neck to look at me; the murderous glare in her eyes would have been enough to freeze me to my very core if she weren’t a sweaty, disheveled mess, seconds away from collapsing where she stood.
“No, I’m not okay!” she croaked. “Doesthislook okay to you?” She continued to hold herself up with one arm on her knee and waved the other down the length of her crumpled body.
I rolled my eyes at her ridiculousness. “It’s not that bad. We’ve barely gone two miles.”
She let out an exasperated huff. “Oh God! That was only two miles? Jesus, deliver me. I’m dying,” she wheezed as she lowered her knees to the sidewalk.
“Layla, what the hell? Get up,” I hissed, looking around the quiet suburban street.
“This is how it ends for me,” she whined dramatically as she walked her hands forward until she was spread eagle on her belly, stretched across the sidewalk like a dying starfish. “I always hoped I’d die while having sex with Jude, but this is how I go. Death by running with my sadistic asshole of a friend. Just leave me here.” She lifted her arm an inch off the ground and waved me off with the flop of her limp hand. “Go on without me. But tell Jude I loved him. And his dick. Especially his dick.”
I scrunched my face in disgust. “I’m not doing any of that, most especially the dick part. Now get up. You look ridiculous. If anyone sees you like this, they’re gonna call for a mental health check.”
