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The attachments show Clara’s fingerprints and a scan of her I.D. on the payout forms that The Meridian requires from high rollers. But then there’s another set of attachments that make me sit up straight. And my heart slams inside my ribcage.
There’s another set of fingerprints. Confirmed match.. But this document is a court docket and a testimonial dossier from fifteen years ago…
… with a very young, very familiar face staring up at me.
No.
No.
I don’t know what curdles first—my stomach or my blood.
I can’t bring myself to look at her. I can’t bring myself to read the name on the court documents despite knowing exactly what it says.
I can’t force my mind to make sense of this.
“Clara—” I shut my mouth when I realize I can’t stand the taste of her name on my tongue anymore.
“Yes?” She peers at me and must see the darkness clouding my face. “Is everything okay?”
No, it sure as fuck is not.
But I can’t tell her yet. I can’t let her know something is wrong; that everything is wrong. I have to play it cool, play it calm, and get her and her kid the fuck inside my house where security is strong and the deadbolts are stronger.
I’ve been looking for Clara Everett for fifteen years.
Through fate or sheer dumb luck, I finally have her.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to let her slip through my fingers again.
11
CLARA
When we pull up into Roxy’s driveway, I have to remind myself to wait for the car to stop before I leap out. I’m anxious to see Willow, and excited to get her to actual safety that won’t put my best friend in danger.
Even though there’s a sudden shadow over Demyen that he won’t talk about, I can’t help but feel like he’s the genuine thing.
And I can’t help but remind myself that that kind of thinking always lands me in trouble.
I shake it off and skip out of the car that’s probably worth five years of my wages. I don’t bother checking to see if he’s behind me; the only thing I do check is to make sure my bag is on my shoulder as I walk up the wrought iron stairs of the adobe apartment building. All I can think about right now is seeing Willow. Making sure she’s safe.
We’re so close to our happily-ever-after.
Roxy meets me at the door to her tiny studio. Her eyes immediately narrow when she sees Demyen slowly emerge from the luxury sedan. “Clara…?”
I scrunch my nose and try to wave off the impending thousand questions. “He’s a friend. Is Willow okay?”
“No, I fed her to a pool of sharks.” Roxy rolls her eyes and ushers me inside. “Yes, of course she’s okay. You think I’d let that jackass get to her?”
I let out a sigh of relief when I spot my sweet angel snoring on the couch, tucked beneath a light throw blanket and still clutching a bag of half-eaten popcorn.
“He has a gun,” I gently remind my friend.
“Yeah. So do I.”
I want to scold her for being so careless, but she’s really not. Roxy Meir would absolutely go into battle with the entire Las Vegas PD if it meant protecting Willow.
“Don’t worry,” she calmly assures me as she picks up Willow’s things around the room. “I made sure to fill her up with junk food and liquid sugar. All I need to do is give her a good shake and you’ll have a blast the rest of the day.”
