Ashley gripped the steering wheel so hard her palms began to sting. She couldn’t get the smug image of Elliot Morgan out of her head. The way he looked at her. The way he moved. The way he…smelled. Her heart thudded and she frowned in annoyance.
But if she was honest with herself, it was more than Elliot that had her mind spinning. It was the assignment: missing children. Did Jean know the truth? The nightmare was still as fresh in her spirit today as it was more than two decades ago. Her throat clenched as those horrible days bloomed anew.
Chapter 3
Ashley found a parking space a block away from the office. She took the time walking to compose herself before Mia read the anxiety all over her face. Living with a man she didn’t know! Even for The Cartel that was asking a bit much. What made them think that she and Mr. Arrogance could ever in this lifetime work together?
She was going to have to do some serious meditating in order to ready herself for the assignment. Even if it was the highest of compliments to be chosen by Jean for two assignments in a row, she wasn’t sure that she was cut out for this one.
Ashley pushed open the door to MT Management, Mia Turner’s event-planning business and was pleased to see Savannah and her baby daughter, Mikayla.
“Hey! This is a surprise.” Ashley dropped her purse on one of the desks and went straight to Mikayla and scooped her up for a kiss. “How’s my girl? Look at you, looking all beautiful.” She nuzzled her neck to squeals of delight.
“Can’t a sister get some love?” Savannah asked in mock hurt.
Ashley waved her hand in dismissal. “Later.” She went on kissing and hugging the baby before finally setting her back down in the stroller. “What brings you here? Off today?” She kissed Savannah’s cheek.
“Took an R&R day. My boss was working me to the bone.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Plus I needed to spend some time with my pumpkin,” she added, stroking her daughter’s curly head. “Thought we could do lunch. Danielle is on her way.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I hear you got another assignment.”
“Word travels fast in this town.” She plopped down into the seat opposite Savannah and stretched her legs out in front of her.
Savannah giggled. “What’s a little espionage between friends.”
“Yeah,” she said halfheartedly.
Savannah tilted her head to the side. “Problem?”
Ashley blew out a breath of frustration. “Something like that.”
“Hey, Ash,” Mia said breezing into the waiting area from her back office. “How’d it go with Jean?”
“Since we’re doing lunch today, why don’t I wait until we’re all together.”
As if on cue, Danielle came sailing in, fashionable as always and dramatically swept off her sunglasses. “Hey all.” She looked from one face to another. “Gee, I feel like I walked into an intervention. What’s up?”
“Ashley said she’d tell us over lunch,” Mia offered.
Danielle arched a brow. “Sounds serious.”
“Not that bad, but bad enough,” Ashley said.
“So why are we all sitting around,” Danielle said. “I want to hear this.”
The stunning quartet, gathered purses, keys, cell phones and stroller and headed out.
They arrived at their favorite eatery, The Shop. They’d been coming as a group for so long, they had their own booth and the waitstaff knew them by name.
The quartet settled down in their seats and flipped open their menus.
“Does this little gathering call for drinks?” Danielle asked.
“I could sure use one,” Ashley said. “But it’s still early. Oh, what the heck. Let’s order a round.”
“That serious, huh?” Savannah asked.
Ashley sighed and leaned back against the worn brown leather seat. “I’m probably making more out of this than necessary, but the whole thing just rubs me the wrong way.”
Phyllis, the waitress, came to take their orders. It was a round of their favorite, grilled salmon salad with tahini dressing and mojitos. With that out of the way, all eyes were on Ashley.
She told them about her meeting with Jean and Bernard.
“So far so good,” Mia said.
“Then in walks Elliot Morgan.”
Three pairs of eyes widened as Ashley described their meeting and the not-very-subtle animosity that flashed between them.
“He’s pompous, arrogant and so full of himself,” Ashley groaned. “And they want us to live together!” She folded her arms and pouted like a three-year-old.
The women broke out into laughter.
“Girl, your problem is you haven’t had a man in your air space in so long you don’t know how to handle it.” Savannah chuckled.
“For real,” Danielle concurred.
Ashley was visibly appalled at the lack of support from her girls. They were supposed to be on her side. Sure, she hadn’t had a real relationship in longer than she cared to admit. She knew she had commitment issues, deep-seated fears of loss. Loss that she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even her girls. There was a part of her that believed she didn’t deserve someone to care about her and her about them. The guilt of all those years ago still haunted her.
They all nodded, biting back smirks. Even little Mikayla was laughing and kicking her feet in her stroller.
Mia leaned forward, schooling her expression. “Look, sis, no one knows better than me how weird it can be living with a man. When Steven and I got together it was tough at first.”
“Yeah, but he’s your man. Now your husband. That’s something completely different. I don’t know this jerk from a hole in the wall.”
“You did say he looked like Idris Elba, didn’t you?” Danielle said, egging her on.
Ashley rolled her eyes.
“Look, it’s just an assignment. You’ll have separate rooms and separate lives outside of the case,” Savannah said, always the practical one. “Just worry about the job.”
That was just it, Ashley thought. The job. But maybe Savannah was right. Focus on the assignment. It may well lead her to what she’d been searching for over the past twenty years—answers.
Elliot turned the key in the door of his third-floor walk-up on West Eighth Street in the Village. He’d found the place after a less-than-exhaustive search, but fell for it right away. His apartment was in a prewar building, with vaulted ceilings and enormous rooms. His one-bedroom apartment in any other neighborhood in Manhattan would go for three times the amount with the rooms cut down to bite-sized pieces. The neighborhood was an eclectic blend of class, culture, language and age, from seedy to high end and everything in between. It was a mecca for the artsy and a paradise for lovers of music, avante-garde shops and cozy cafès. The perfect place to blend in, able to see and go unseen.
He locked the door behind him and began tugging his fitted T-shirt over his head as he strolled from the front hallway, through the mostly unfurnished living