Page 9 of Bleed (Two Wheeled Psychos #4)

Sleep evades me, and I toss and turn in my bed.

Now instead of just visions of Dani, I can see the mess I made of my friend.

I’m too irritated to stay in bed, even though morning for me is only an hour away.

Grunting, I get up off my bed and trudge out to the kitchen, snapping on the light and flicking on the coffee machine.

If I can’t focus on sleep, then I need to put my energy towards something I can do. The Recluse is a hard one to find, but there has to be some clues in the stuff I have still scattered on my table. Just the fact that she was spotted here in Charlotte is a big thing. If she’s that close, I

will

find her.

The sun begins to rise as I shuffle through the photos and documents, creeping its bright light across the room until it’s blaring on the shiny surface of the pictures, announcing the day is progressing faster than I have anticipated.

Either that or I’ve been lost in the work so much that the morning has already passed way more than it should have.

A quick glance at the clock on the microwave across the room shows I’m already two hours late for getting to the restaurant at my regular time, and that pisses me off too. I know though, that I need to focus on this more than the kitchen.

Whipping out my phone I send a quick text to Valentino, telling him to bump the sous chef to my place for the next few days. I need to center my attention on this, and nothing else.

His response of “ok asshole” comes through almost instantly and I shake my head, tossing the cell onto the table amongst the mess of surveillance stuff.

“Okay you sneaky little woman, where are you?” I ask the pile of pictures in my grasp before setting them down to pick up a couple of others, leafing through them slowly.

I scan over the ones of her shopping in that boutique, and notice that the boyfriend is in every one, not necessarily in focus or as part of the actual view but he’s there, always in the background. His body language is more protector, almost bodyguard like instead of young man foolishly in love.

“Hmmm, wait a minute…” I say out loud to no one but myself.

Hurriedly I grab my laptop and the handheld scanner I bought myself a year ago for uploading things to the computer. The picture scans quickly and in seconds it’s on my laptop screen.

“Now, will facial recognition pick you up, you little shit?”

Impatiently I watch the little spinning circle in the center of the display as the program runs through every database on earth that the family was able to get access to.

Being a major international crime organization with a shit ton of law enforcement agencies in their pockets makes it good for us.

I have all of their systems available to me.

If only I had a decent picture of her face.

The computer runs through one database after another, spinning and churning, occasionally making a noise as it flips between one government agency to the next. It’s a long process but worth it when the circle disappears and up pops an arrest report.

“Arrested for aggravated assault in Venice. Nice to meet you Jonathan Mercer, American citizen, son of Richard and Elaine Mercer from Boston.” I say, tapping my finger on the screen, then rubbing the tip of it over the tear drop tattoo under his eye.

With a few clicks I send the information over to my phone, including the clearer picture from his mug shot.

If I can’t find her directly, I’ll track her down through him.

I pull up the info and send it over to Valentino for an update, then go to my room to change.

With that done, and a lead they can help me follow, I want to spend a little time convincing myself that the woman in the café isn’t really Dani, and it’s all a figment of my imagination.

Satisfied with what I’ve found so far, and my new plan, I pick up my coffee cup, swig the now cold remnants of it, and toss the mug into the sink. The door closes behind me, and I make my way back down to Luna. It’s about time I get my head on straight and get back to myself.

~~~

The café is quiet, with only a few patrons sitting around at the comfy table and chair set-ups, drinking their coffees and lattes, and reading or working on laptops.

It’s quiet and peaceful, and I’m practically falling asleep on the cushy little sofa I’ve perched myself upon.

The caffeine in the three cups of espresso I’ve had so far isn’t doing shit to keep me awake.

Fuck man, lack of sleep sucks.

Every time the little bell above the door jingles, I perk up and look over, but as of yet, the blonde with the crochet hat hasn’t arrived.

Maybe it was just that one day and you’re wasting your time while you could be out catching Jonathan Mercer and the Recluse.

Over and over again I check out who comes in, until the sun starts to set, and the ninth espresso has passed through me like a liquid freight train. My stomach is protesting the lack of food, and my bladder is quite angry with me as I reposition on the seat, crossing my legs uncomfortably.

“Fuck it.” I curse to myself, getting up and stretching my arms over my head, then leaning backwards to loosen up everything that’s tightened up in my hours of doing nothing but drinking the caffeinated drinks and hoping to see her.

She ain’t coming in this late. Just take a piss and grab something to eat.

The restroom is thankfully clean, and I can get in and out in less than two minutes. I hate public bathrooms, they’re usually always gross and smell like stale urine and those blue cakes they toss in the never-washed urinals. Like those things are supposed to magically clean them.

Using a paper towel to open the door after I wash my hands, I whip it open and head down the small hallway back into the café, stopping in my tracks when I see a cute, brown, crochet cap standing in line at the counter.

“Of course you’d arrive when I was in the can.” I grumble under my breath. “I didn’t get to see your face.”

Walking super slow, like the floor will give out from me if I go any faster, I make my way to the line, thankful that no one is behind her.

Falling in after her, I get as close as I can to her without acting like a creep.

She smells divine, like jasmine, and the scent matches the knee length, flowy dress with bright flowers all over it.

A sweater and brown cowgirl boots complete the outfit, making her look chic and reserved at the same time.

Another floral scent wafts up my nose as she answers her phone with a bright greeting to someone and tosses her hair back over her shoulder.

“Allie. I’m already here. Perfect. See you soon.” She says into her cell before pushing it back into a little brown shoulder bag, then stepping up to place her order.

Her voice is familiar, but it’s not slapping me in the face, and maybe, just maybe I’m wrong and she’s not Dani, not the woman I once loved before she left with no goodbye.

I can feel my heart climbing up in my throat as I listen to her order her drink, and one for whomever I’m assuming was on the phone. Allie, I think I heard her say. I don’t recognize the name, but I was kind of an absentee boyfriend and didn’t pay much attention to things like that.

And you wonder why she left you.

It’s her coffee order that rings a bell, one much louder than the one above the door behind me that’s jingling again.

“Iced caramel Macchiato, extra whip. Can I have sprinkles on top too?” She says to the barista behind the register. “And an Americano. Both for here.”

It’s her. Motherfucker, it’s her.

“Dani?” I squeak out, then clear my throat, rubbing at it with my fingers. “Dani?”

I watch as she freezes in place, her hand half in and out of her purse, reaching for her wallet. Her body tenses, and I hear a big intake of breath from her before she speaks.

“Damien?” She says shakily without turning around, and I swear the sound of my name is laced with fear.

“Yeah.” I answer, wanting to reach out to touch her, to brush her hair off her shoulder with my trembling fingers. “It’s me.”

It’s like time stands still as I brush nothing but air, and she stands still facing away from me.

I can see the barista on the other side of the counter staring, boring holes into me with her dark eyes because we’re holding up the line, but I don’t care.

I need this, she needs this. I fucking need her.

“Dani!” A voice comes out from behind us, all chipper and excited until the woman who just blew in the door stops and stares at me and her back. “Dani? This creep bothering you?”

“Fuck off, Allie.” I grunt, knowing she’s the one who was the other end of the phone call.

“Well then, douche.” She says back, crinkling her nose at me, making the band of freckles over her nose move and dance.

She a pale skinned, ginger, with bright blue eyes that stare at me with disdain. I don’t know her and already I can’t stand her.

“This creep would like a minute with your friend.” I hiss at her.

“Best friend, get it right. And everything you say to her, you say in front of me.” She says, looking me up and down. “I’ve heard about you, and I don’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Enough. Both of you.” Dani says, finally turning around, taking my fucking breath away just like she used to.

“Dani.” I whisper, raising my hand, wanting to stroke her face, but lowering it before I make contact.

My stomach is in my throat, my heart beating rapidly around it, while my body betrays me and shivers in recognition and love all wrapped in one fucked up ball of emotions that I never thought I would feel again.

Just one look at her, one glance at her face and I’m already back to where we were before she left me.

Even the voice in my head that’s been angry for years at her disappearance quiets and folds to the feelings roaring through me.

“Fuck off.” She snarls at me. Slapping money down on the counter, grabbing her drinks, handing Allie’s to her, and stomping away.

I’m standing in place, shocked, heartbroken all over again, watching her walk away for the second time with no explanation.