Page 3 of Dark Embers (Vegas Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER 3

Sabrina

Present Day

Fridays are always the same. Drop Elena off, rush to work, dance, make rent, survive. Repeat.

I pull into my mother’s driveway, tires crunching over the gravel before I cut the engine. It’s already dark, and the porch light glows softly against the evening haze. Normally, my mother is at the door before I even step out of the car. But tonight? Nothing.

My nerves bristle.

I shove open the door, stepping into the cool night air. The baby carrier is secured in the backseat, Elena half-asleep inside it, her tiny hands curled into fists. Two overstuffed baby bags are slung over my shoulder as I juggle her weight, nudging the car door closed with my hip.

“Mom!” I call, stepping inside without knocking. My childhood home smells the same—cinnamon from the candles she always burns, and a faint trace of wine.

No answer.

I shift Elena’s seat higher in my grip and storm through the house. “Mom!”

A voice answers, but it’s not hers.

“Hey, Sabrina.”

I pause mid-step, turning toward the sound. Mark Dalton, my mother’s live-in boyfriend, steps into view from the back of the house. A faded T-shirt clings to his lean frame, and his hair is damp like he’s just showered.

“She’s on the patio,” he says. “Taking a call.”

A call? That’s unusual. My mother doesn’t take calls when I drop off Elena. Ever. In fact my mother barely takes calls at all because she hates technology. She calls it the devil disguised in flashy covers tempting people.

Something prickles at the back of my neck.

“Who is she talking to?” I ask, handing Elena off to Mark and kissing my daughter’s soft cheek. “Bye, baby.”

“Hey, princess,” Mark coos, rocking her slightly. Elena makes a small sound in response, nestling against him.

I hesitate, watching the way Mark interacts with her. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man who was spiraling not long ago. After he got his trading license reinstated and gave up drinking, he started resembling the man I remembered—the one my best friend, Leigh, once admired before everything fell apart.

“She’s talking to that private detective.”

The words hit me like a freight train.

My fingers tighten around the straps of the baby bags. “What?”

Mark shifts, clearing his throat. “There was a sighting of Tara in Los Angeles.”

The air is sucked from my lungs.

“What?” I repeat, louder this time.

Before he can answer, I abandon the bags on the kitchen counter and push through the back door. The moment I step onto the patio, my mother is lowering her phone. She looks up, and the flickering light from the citronella candles casts shadows across her face.

“Has the detective found anything?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.

Carla exhales, rubbing her temple. “Hello to you too, Sabrina.” She kisses my cheek in greeting before gesturing toward her phone. “Tara was seen on the UCLA campus.”

I freeze.

“What?”

She hands me her phone. My pulse pounds as I take it, my fingers trembling slightly as I stare at the screen. The photo is grainy, the woman’s profile barely visible as she moves through a crowded walkway. Blonde hair catches the light, a sharp contrast to the deep shadow covering her face.

“This isn’t Tara,” I whisper. “Tara isn’t blonde.”

My mother sighs, rubbing her arms as if warding off a chill. “I know. But the resemblance is uncanny.”

My gaze flicks back to the phone. My mind races, trying to make sense of it. Why would Tara be on the UCLA campus?

A sick feeling slithers through my stomach.

I glance at my mother’s phone again, spotting the PI’s number.

“Mom. I thought we were going to stop using this guy?” I say quietly. “How much is this still costing us?”

Carla hesitates. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does,” I try to reason with her. “Mom, doesn't it seem strange to you that every time we tell him to call off the hunt for Tara there’s a sudden sighting of her and we get sent this grainy shit kind of picture of some woman who slightly resembles Tara?”

“I see your point.” Her lips press into a thin line. “But this time it really does look like Tara and we both know she wanted to lecture at UCLA once she had her PHD.”

“And what?” I ask, unable to keep the exasperation from my voice. “You don’t think she’d know that would be one of the first places anyone who has done their homework on her would look?”

“Of course.” She draws in a deep breath. “But I can’t give up hope that my daughter is out there somewhere and that someone must have seen her.”

“I know Mom!” I start to feel terrible from my outburst. “But maybe we should find another PI as this man is a rip off artist and my savings are almost depleted from paying him.”

“Do you need money, Rina?” my mother asks.

The question is so out of character for her that it stuns me. There’s no disdain in her voice, no underlying oh, here we go again tone. Just concern.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine. But I can’t keep paying for a detective who keeps coming up empty-handed.”

“We can talk about this when you fetch Elena,” she promises, stepping past me and lifting Elena into her arms. A warm smile spreads across her face as she presses a kiss to Elena’s chubby cheek. “There’s my little princess.” She turns toward me, her eyes are actually filled with love and is that pride? For me? I’m feeling a little disoriented when my mother says, “I admit, I wasn’t thrilled about you having a baby out of wedlock and not knowing the father.”

I roll my eyes, sighing. Here we go.

“But…” My mother’s face softens even more as she cradles Elena against her. “I can’t deny how much she’s filled the void since Tara left.”

Guilt slams into me, thick and suffocating. If only you knew the truth, Mom. I push it back into my mind.

“Gee, thanks, Mom.” I snort, glancing at my watch. “Fuck.” I kiss Elena. “Bye my baby. I have to go as I’m going to be late.”

“Language!” Carla scolds, covering Elena’s ears.

“She’s heard worse,” I mutter, grabbing my car keys.

“Be careful driving,” Carla calls as I rush toward the door. “And there’s no rush to fetch my little princess. Enjoy your weekend. Get some sleep.”

“Thanks Mom and Mark.” I wave moving toward the door. As I step outside, the cool night air hits my flushed cheeks before I slide into the driver’s seat of my Subaru.

A gift from my best friend, Leigh. Thinking about her gives me another wave of guilt churning through me.

Lies. Lies. Lies. They’re all piling up, suffocating me, and the worst part? There’s no end in sight.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

As I pull onto the road, my mind drifts back to fifteen months ago and a decision I made that would change our lives forever.