Page 14

LONDON

“Your eleven o’clock had to be canceled, and she wants to know if she can come in at two.

” Zara’s soft voice draws my attention away from my laptop.

I offer her a kind smile as she timidly knocks on my office door.

A few months ago, Promise brought up the idea of hiring Zara as an assistant at the firm.

A couple of years ago, Zara and her son, Julian, fled Mexico with the help of Vayda, her team, and the Kings.

She was the wife of the now-deceased cartel boss.

Over the past couple of years, the Kings have put her under their protection.

She and her son have thrived in their new life in New Orleans.

Before working here, she worked as a cashier at Rusty’s Buy & Bag.

Unfortunately, Rusty’s closed down four months ago, leaving Zara unemployed.

The dilemma worked out well for her and us because Zara has been a godsend.

She is dependable, efficient, and speaks Spanish, which has broadened our client base.

“Yeah, tell her two o’clock is fine. Thanks, Zara.”

Since my schedule has changed, I break for lunch early.

I skipped breakfast this morning and know if I don’t eat soon, my head will kill me later.

Pushing away from the desk, I power my computer off and grab my purse.

Across the hall, I see Promise is still not back from court, so I decide to ask Zara if she’d like to go to Maggie’s with me.

Walking down the hall, I pass the break room and find Zara heating food in the microwave.

“What do you say you ditch the leftovers and come with me to Maggie’s? My treat.”

Zara looks down at her bowl of what looks like rice and chicken while biting her bottom lip.

Over the past several months, Promise and I have worked diligently to get Zara to open up and trust us.

Considering her history, I don’t blame her for being wary of people.

Finally, she gives me a small smile and tosses her container back into the refrigerator. “Okay.”

“So, how’s your little guy doing? Promise mentioned last week, he started a new daycare. Is he adjusting well?” I ask Zara on our drive into town.

Zara beams at the mention of her son, Julian. “Yes, he’s settling in. Everyone there has been so nice and understanding. I’m grateful to Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc for getting him in at Fun Friends & Frontiers.”

Apparently, Julian’s last daycare kicked him out due to behavioral issues.

Zara had been beside herself. She and her son had both had their fair share of challenges since leaving Mexico, but she had been handling them head-on and with grace.

Julian’s daycare's unwillingness to work with Zara had been a tipping point, though.

But in true Kings fashion, the club used some connections and helped.

They got Julian into a new daycare, and he now sees a child therapist three times a week.

As I pull into an empty parking spot in front of Creole Café, I recognize the white Honda Accord parked two cars over.

I see Ruby sitting at a table on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant through the windshield.

A smile spread across her face, and she waves when I exit my car. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I had a client reschedule, so Zara and I decided to take an early lunch.”

Ruby brightens up. “Perfect. You two can eat with me.”

I look at Zara. “You cool with that? You remember my good friend, Ruby, don’t you?”

Zara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Ruby.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Zara. How’s Julian?” Zara replies as the two of us take a seat across from Ruby.

“He’s good. Mrs. Bethany started teaching him the alphabet this week. She said Julian is one of her brightest kids.”

I can hear the pride in Zara’s voice when talking about her son.

“That’s fantastic!” Ruby rushes. “It would be a dream to have your sweet boy in my class when he starts kindergarten.”

The conversation is halted when Mrs. Maggie bursts through the door of her restaurant carrying a tray loaded with sweet tea and her famous rye bread and honey butter. “London. Ruby, Zara! What a blessed day it is to see you three here.”

“Hey, Maggie. How’s it going?” I ask.

“Shoo, child. Other than these achin’ knees. I can’t complain. Now, what will it be today, ladies? Danny's red beans and rice will knock your socks off.”

“Perfect. Red beans and rice it is. I’m going to need some bread pudding, too,” I tell her.

“Same for me,” Ruby follows.

Zara nods. “I’ll have that too. Will you give me some extra bread pudding to go? I want to take some home to my little boy.”

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll be back in a jiff with your order.”

Just as Mrs. Maggie scurries back inside, the familiar rumble of a motorcycle draws our attention, and the three of us watch Catcher park his bike beside my car.

Catcher tied himself to the Kings not long ago and is now the club’s latest prospect.

He seems like a good guy, but I can’t seem to get much of a read on him.

I feel there’s a story behind his sad eyes, though.

Catcher is all hard lines and a mask of indifference, but there’s no mistaking the pain he carries around on his shoulders.

“Hiya, Catcher,” I greet him as he strides past our table.

Catcher stops briefly and slides his shades from his face to the top of his head.

“Lon,” he replies with a nod. His gaze then sweeps the table before halting on Ruby, who has suddenly turned three shades of red.

With a tip of his chin, Catcher disappears inside the café.

I turn to Ruby with a lifted brow. “What was that?”

Ruby’s blush spreads to her ears. “What was what?”

My eyes narrow as I watch her pick at the bread on her plate. Beside me, Zara giggles.

“Ruby, do you have the hots for Catcher?” I tease.

Ruby sputters, “No!”

“Oh my God. You totally do!”

“What are you, five?” Ruby tosses a piece of bread at my face, making me laugh.

My teasing comes to a halt when Catcher exits the café. He slides his shades back down over his eyes and tosses a nod our way as he walks past our table.

“Good seeing you, Catcher.” I wave. “Right, Ruby?”

A foot connects with my shin underneath the table, making me grimace. “Ouch. That hurt, heifer.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Ruby whispers.

“Guys, look.” Zara nudges me with her elbow.

Ruby and I peer down the sidewalk at Catcher perched on his bike, head turned toward us.

“Great,” Ruby mutters. “He probably thinks we’re idiots.”

With a shake of his head, Catcher fires up his motorcycle and takes off down the street.

“You’re the worst, Lon,” Ruby grumbles once Catcher is out of sight.

“Meh.” I shrug. “You love me anyway.”

Ruby pops a piece of bread in her mouth and continues to pout. “Unfortunately.”

After lunch, Zara and I arrive back at the office.

The rest of the day is blurry with one client meeting after another.

It’s nearly six o’clock by the time I make it home.

I had plans to visit Mom, but when I checked in on her an hour ago, her nurse said she was sleeping and would probably be down for the rest of the night.

I told them I’d stop by first thing in the morning before heading into the office to have breakfast with her.

I’m walking through the door to my apartment when my phone chimes with a text.

The screen lights up, revealing its Journey.

I inwardly groan because Journey texts only when she wants me to switch shifts with her.

I’m too beat to work for the club tonight and contemplate ignoring her, but decide against it.

If Journey needs me to take her shift, it would be for a good reason, and I can’t leave her hanging like that.

But when I tap on her text it’s not what I thought it would be.

Journey: Amara was a no-show tonight. I’m worried about her.

A chill runs down my spine as I read the words.

Me: Maybe she’s sick. Did you try calling?

Journey’s reply is instant.

Journey: Yes. I called and left a voice message, and I texted several times, too. She hasn’t responded.

Me: Did you talk to Tony?

Journey: Yes. You know him though. He said he’d take care of it. I’m worried, Lon. I'll go by her place tonight and see if she’s there.

“Damn.” I blow out a breath. I could try to talk Journey out of going and letting Tony handle things, but I feel she won’t listen.

We’ve all rallied behind Amara to help her get away from her asshole boyfriend, and so far, she has shown no signs of going back to him since he gave her a black eye a couple of weeks ago.

Her not showing up to work has me concerned.

Me: Where are you?”

Journey: I’m at home. I’ve got one of the other girls to take my shift so I can look for Amara.

I close my eyes and tip my head back toward the ceiling. “This is a bad idea, London.”

Blowing out a breath, I text Journey back.

Me: Send me your address. I’m coming with you.

Ten minutes later, I head out the door after changing out of my work clothes and putting on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

I follow the GPS directions to an older but well-maintained neighborhood about fifteen minutes outside New Orleans.

When I pull into a driveway, I spot Journey climbing down her porch steps toward my car.

“You know Tony is going to kill us if he finds out what we’re doing,” I remark as she slides into the passenger seat.

“What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Journey replies.

The address Journey has for Amara leads us to a not-so-great-looking neighborhood. Amara once mentioned she inherited her grandparents’ house when they passed. I imagine years ago, this was a neighborhood that thrived, but now it looks run down.

“I think this is it.” Journey points to the small yellow house to our right.

I park across the street and cut the engine.

Journey and I don’t exit the car right away.

I survey the surrounding houses and note that Amara's is the only one that looks kept up. The grass is cut, and a small flower bed is out front. The house is not much to look at, but Amara has taken pride in her yard. The sun has set, but there is no porch light on at Amara’s house, and the streetlight I’m parked under doesn’t work.

“What are you thinking?” Journey asks.

“I don’t know. I say we knock on the door and see if she’s home.”

Just as we are about to exit the car, the front door to the house swings open, and two men wearing suits walk out.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Get down.” Journey and I crouch down.

“Shit, Lon. You think they saw us?”

When I chance a peek out the windshield. A black SUV appears out of nowhere and rolls to a stop at the end of the driveway. Then I watch the two men who just came out of Amara’s house climb into the SUV.

“I don’t think they saw us. They’re gone.”

Journey sits up. “What now?”

“We get the fuck out of here,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going on with Amara, but I don’t have a good feeling."

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears at my driver’s side window, causing us to scream. The figure leans down, showing their face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I say, clutching my chest when I see Tony’s angry face through my window.

“You two get your asses to the club now,” he orders, then walks away before we can argue.

Journey slumps in her seat. “Shit.”

The ride to Pink Paradise remains silent because we know we are in for an ass-chewing from Tony. That is precisely what Journey and I get when we walk into his office. We sit across from his desk and listen as he lectures us.

“Did I or did I not tell you two to let me handle this situation with Amara?”

I go to open my mouth when he points a finger at me. “Zip it. You’re lucky those men didn’t spot you. Damn lucky because I clocked your asses the second you turned onto the street.”

“Really?” Journey scrunches her nose. “We didn’t see you.”

“That’s because I know how not to get caught.” Tony grinds his jaw. Then he turns his attention toward me and continues, “I brought you in on this because I trusted your judgment. Was I wrong about you?”

I sit up straighter in my chair and narrow my eyes. “No. But Amara is our friend. If she’s in trouble, I will do whatever I can to help. And if I’m to be her legal counsel, I need to be involved.”

Tony’s demeanor diminishes slightly at my declaration. “I understand, but you and I both know what you did tonight was not smart. If something happened to you, that would be on me.”

I blow out a breath and rub my temple. “I can admit that what Journey and I did was reckless. It’s just… what if something terrible has happened to Amara?”

“I’m on it, London.” Tony holds my stare. “I have a guy following a lead as we speak. We will find her.” There is no mistake in Tony's tone. “Now, I want you two to go home and stay there,” Tony finishes.