by Meghan March
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, and I practically skip to where I parked.
My stomach drops to the pavement and curls into a tight knot as I search for my Bronco. But it’s gone, and all that’s left is an empty parking spot.
Chapter 23
Temperance
This can’t be happening.
I blink, looking around as though I forgot where I parked. But I didn’t. I know exactly where I parked, and it’s gone. Gone.
People walk up and down the street but no one makes eye contact. There’s a kid on the corner playing for tips on a couple of five-gallon buckets. He must have just set up shop, because he wasn’t there when I parked.
“Hey! You!” I call out, interrupting his drum solo.
He looks up at me. “What?”
“Did you see an old Bronco across the street?”
He twirls his drumstick and shrugs.
I suck in a breath and reach into my purse to pull out a five and shove it at him. “Did you see it?”
“Maybe.”
With an animalistic growl building in my throat, I grab a twenty and hold it just out of reach. “Come on, kid. This matters.”
He bounces up quicker than I expected and snatches it from my hand. “It was there. Now it’s gone.”
“Who took it?”
Another shrug. “Don’t know. Didn’t pay much mind to it.”
“You saw nothing? At all?”
He tilts his head to the side. “It’s a fuck-ton safer for me to see nothing, lady. I gotta live out here. You don’t.”
My entire body practically vibrates with helpless rage. “Fine.” I pull out my business card and drop it in his hat where he’s collecting tips. “If you remember anything, call any number on there.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”
I turn and walk away, my eyes smarting with the need to let tears fall. My best shot at my dream just disappeared with whoever drove away with my fucking car.
I pull out my phone and hit Rafe’s number. It goes immediately to voice mail, doesn’t even ring. What the hell? I hang up and call again. Same thing happens. This time, I leave a message.
“Rafe. I need you. Please. Call me.”
I hang up and immediately dial a number I deleted long ago, but still know by heart.
He answers on the first ring and skips the polite greeting. “You change your mind?”
“I need your help.”
I trudge back to the gallery with nothing but Elijah’s promise to make some calls to see if he can find my car. Valentina pops her head out of the back room when the front door chimes signal my entrance, and her face creases with confusion.
“Couldn’t find the spot?”
“Not exactly.” I’m not proud, but that’s the moment a few of my tears finally sneak free. “Someone stole my car.”
“Oh shit! Honey, I’m so sorry.” This woman, who I barely know, crosses the room and throws her arms around me. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll call my husband. He’ll get the cops on it, and they’ll find it.”
I jerk my head up at the word cops. Where I’m from, we don’t call the cops. And working at the distillery, that’s certainly not my first inclination either.
“Cops?”
Valentina steps back and tilts her head to the side. “Yeah, unless you’ve got a bunch of illegal weapons or drugs in it. If that’s the case, definitely don’t tell me.”
Shockingly, her statement rattles a laugh out of me.
“No. Nothing illegal. Just . . . my sculpture. Which no car thief is going to want. They’ll probably toss it out as garbage.”
“And then we’ll kill them. I mean, catch them. Hold on.”
She walks to a desk at the back of the gallery and picks up her phone. She taps out something on the screen.
When it rings moments later, she answers, “That was quick. Can you come to the gallery? No, everything’s fine, but I need a cop and I don’t want to call the precinct.” She pauses. “I’ll explain when you get here.”
When she hangs up, she looks at me. “My husband will be here shortly. Just has to pack up the baby gear first. In the meantime, is there anyone else you want to call?”
I think of my brother, who is undoubtedly doing something illegal, and then my boss . . . who is most certainly on a plane right now. “Not really.”
“Then I think you need a drink.”
“I should probably say no . . .”
“Pshh. Stop that. You need it. You’re practically shaking. Now, sit.” Valentina nods to the chair in front of her desk before she disappears into the back room. A few moments later, she returns with a wine bottle and a champagne flute. “I know this is more of a hard-liquor situation, but prosecco is all I have at the moment.”
“Thank you.”
She pours the wine with a steady hand, and I try to stop mine from shaking.
“I just can’t believe . . .” I trail off and take a sip.
“Honey, this is New Orleans. I’m sure a car gets stolen down here every day. Rix doesn’t work that beat, but I’m sure he could back me up with figures.”
As I drink in silence for a few minutes, she tells me a few stories about artists whose pieces are for sale in the gallery, including her part-time employee who’s in art school.
I’m halfway through my second glass of prosecco when a beautiful man who could practically double for Shemar Moore walks in the door with a baby strapped to his chest. His silver gaze cuts to Valentina, and he wastes no time closing the distance between them.
“What’s going on? Who do I need to kill for interrupting the little man’s dinner?”
Valentina rises. “There are my two favorite guys. Thanks for coming down so quick.”
He pulls her in close to his body and leans down to press a kiss to her lips. “Always, duchess. What the hell is going on?”
I stare at them with a longing I didn’t know I could feel. This beautiful badass of a man is charging to her rescue, complete with a smiling baby. My ovaries are toast.
“This is Temperance. She works at—”
“Seven Sinners, for Mount’s woman,” he finishes for her, his eyes narrowing on me.
I nod, not feeling the same welcome in his tone that came from Valentina. “That’s right.”
“You here to cause trouble? Because we don’t need it,” he says, and a shaft of disappointment shoots through me.
“Rix!” Valentina smacks him on the shoulder. “Be nice. She’s had a crap day. She came to show me a sculpture, and someone stole her car.”
He studies me with suspicion rolling off him in waves.
“It’s okay. I’ll get help from someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m a criminal.” I lower the glass to the desk and grab my purse. “Sorry to waste your time, Valentina.”
I’ve taken two steps when he speaks.
“Why didn’t you call your boss? Pretty sure you’d find your car a hell of a lot faster that way.”
I look over my shoulder. “They just left to go on vacation. This isn’t an emergency worth bothering them over. I can handle it myself.”
His brows dive together. “Really? Pretty sure Mount would have heads rolling for this.”
“Not necessary, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. I’ll head to the precinct to file a report and call my insurance company.”
“Oh no. You’re not leaving. He’s helping you, and he’s going to be nice about it too.” Valentina’s voice brooks no disagreement.
“Is that right?” He reaches out and clasps his wife’s hand with the baby between them. “She one of your people now? Adopting her?”
I’m not sure what he means, but when Valentina nods, his face relaxes and he smiles at her.
“Shoulda figured. Only for you, duchess. Only for you.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand and releases it before turning back to me. “Give me all the vehicle details and I’ll get a BOLO out. If it’s rolling around, we’ll get a cal
l. I’ll let my boys know it’s priority.”
“Make sure you tell them that there’s a very valuable piece of artwork in the back, and I will personally bake cookies for whoever makes sure that sculpture comes back unharmed,” Valentina tells him as she presses a kiss to the baby’s head.
Rix smiles again, this time laughing. “Duchess, I thought you wanted them to bring the art back, not make sure you never see it again.”
Valentina growls at him and reaches for the baby, and my heart pangs with envy.
I want that.
Chapter 24
Temperance
Twenty-four hours and no sign of my Bronco, and Elijah says it hasn’t shown up in any chop shop in town that he knows. He’s still looking, and so are the cops. I’ve left three more messages on my brother’s phone—which never rings before kicking me to voice mail—and sent him a dozen texts. I’ve gotten zero replies.
It’s not unusual for him to go radio silent for a few days every once in a while, but he always tells me first and then gets back to me as soon as he can. My gut says this is different. Bad different. Or maybe that’s just my stomach churning from the fact someone stole my damn Bronco.
Keira kept her promise to Mount and never called work today, and I decided to wait until Monday to tell her about my car.
Surely, I’ll find it before then, right? I sure as hell hope so.
When I climb into a taxi on Friday night, part of me wants to go straight to the club and wait until my appointed time and let my stranger help me forget this shitty end of my week.
But I’m not doing it.
I can’t keep meeting a guy whose name I don’t know. That’s definitely not going to end with me having a man who looks at me like Rix does at Valentina.
If I can’t call him for help, then he doesn’t deserve to be part of my life. Simple enough.
And since I don’t have any way to contact him, in addition to not having his name, my decision is made.
It’s over.
As I ride back to my place, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll find someone else to play with when I don’t show up.
Stop thinking about him.
My phone rings as I toss my purse on the counter. Valentina’s name is on the screen, and hope rushes through me.
“Valentina? Did they find my car?”
“Oh, honey, sorry, no. They didn’t.”
That hope instantly deflates. “Oh.”
“But I was wondering . . . do you have plans tonight?”
I look around all five hundred square feet of my apartment—from the living area to the kitchenette and to the doorway to the bedroom—as though searching for an excuse, which is my knee-jerk reaction. Then I remind myself that I need plans tonight, because that may be the only way I keep my promise to myself not to go to Haven.
“No.”
“Good. Well, maybe not good for you, but good for us because I’m having some friends over for a girls’ night tonight. I was telling a few of them about you, and we thought you might want to join us.”
Girls’ night? That’s one of those things that I’ve seen in movies and read about in books but haven’t actually ever done. Not even in college, because I was working three jobs just to pay tuition and rent.
“Uh, sure?” My answer comes out as a question, and I clear my throat. “I mean, I’d love to.”
“Great. I’ll text you my address.” She pauses, and I can practically feel her wince at reminding me of the fact that I don’t have a way to get there. “Wait, never mind that. I can have someone pick you up.”
“I can get there. It’s no big deal. What time?”
She fills me in on the rest of the details, and when I hang up, I force myself to smile.
Now I won’t be tempted to go to the club.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. None at all.
First, Valentina’s place is a beautiful house in the Garden District that I guarantee costs more than I’ll probably ever make in my entire life. Property here isn’t cheap, especially when it’s perfectly restored like hers.
Keira would probably feel comfortable here, but I feel insanely out of place. I wipe my heels three times on the doormat out of old habit to avoid tracking mud inside onto the hardwood floors and expensive-looking rugs. Canvases of gorgeous nudes, which I recognize as Valentina’s own work from the gallery, decorate the walls.
They’re incredible. It’s even more incredible to think that she makes her living from art and it can pay for this life of hers. Or at least I assume, considering her husband is a cop. Then again, I probably shouldn’t assume anything about anything.
“Welcome,” Valentina says, giving me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She follows my gaze to the paintings on the walls. “Yes, those are mine too. Rix insists that I showcase them here. He’s actually the one who made me finally take the leap to sell them. He changed everything for me. I would’ve kept them hidden in my studio for the rest of my life if it’d been left up to me to find the courage. You get me, I know.”
I swallow, thinking about what a crazy leap of faith that must have been, because I’m still having trouble comprehending it. “Clearly, you made the right choice.”
She smiles. “You are too. I promise. I have instincts for art, and I know yours is going to sell. It’s unique and raw and beautiful. People are going to die for it. You just wait.”
I’m still soaking up her compliments when she points toward the living room. “Come on. I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone.”
Valentina leads me into a beautiful room and introduces me to a trio of women so quickly, I don’t catch a single one of their names. They’re all ridiculously gorgeous and look like they could rule the world as a hobby.
I sit down and stay quiet, listening to them chatter about their husbands and boyfriends and what sounds like amazing lives.
One of them is literally married to a billionaire. A freaking billionaire. She’s also wearing the cutest purple vintage cocktail dress I’ve ever seen.
“Temperance works at Seven Sinners,” Valentina informs them as part of my introduction.
“They have incredible whiskey cocktails,” the gorgeous redhead says, wearing leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that says Revenge of the Nerds on it. “Rhett took me on a date there.”
I’m trying to remember her name and failing, but I latch onto the one thing I can actually talk about and not sound like an idiot—whiskey. “We do. Even if you’re not a whiskey drinker, they’re pretty delicious cocktails.”
The redhead must realize I can’t remember her name. “I’m Ariel, by the way. And before you ask, yes, I’m named after The Little Mermaid. I’ve got thingamabobs aplenty, and I always want more.” She winks.
“She means laptops aplenty so she can hack into government databases,” Valentina says.
“Shhh. Don’t tell her all my secrets yet. I save those for the second date,” Ariel replies with a laugh.
One of the women, an intimidating blonde named Vanessa, waves her off good-naturedly. “We’re talking whiskey first, not hacking. I need to buy a case of that Phoenix label. Con loves it, and I want to surprise him. If you could hook me up, I would be a very grateful woman.”
Her question actually makes me feel useful here, which is nice. “I’m happy to.”
“Fabulous. I’m holding you to it. What’s your number?”
When I tell her, she puts it in her phone and fires off a text to me so I have hers. I’m making friends. It’s a little astonishing, but totally cool.
“Now, how about we stop badgering her for booze and drink some of our own. After all, y’all have designated drivers tonight, right?”
The wine and other drinks are refilled, and I’m three glasses into some very delicious red wine before I realize it.
“I overheard the craziest conversation at the shop today. You won’t even believe it,” the woman married to the billionaire says. I believe her name is Yve.
“And the gossip in Pretty Kitty is the best,” Yve says.
“So, spill,” Valentina says. The chatter in the room hushes.
“I heard about a sex club. Outside of town. Super fancy and expensive. The kind that I can’t believe Lucas wouldn’t already know about. No one’s supposed to talk about it, but this woman accidentally let it slip while she was trying on corsets.”
“I bet she gets her membership yanked. They’re not supposed to talk about it,” I say before catching myself. Every eye in the room focuses on me. “I mean, I assume that’s how those places work.”
Yve’s eyebrows go up. “You’ve been there. Haven’t you?”
As I open my mouth to deny it, Valentina refills my glass. “She’s a terrible liar, for the record.”
“Hey! That’s not fair.”
Valentina rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Trying to pretend that wasn’t your artwork the night of the auction? Pshh. You need to work on those skills if you want to lie worth a damn.”
I take a rather unladylike swig of wine. “I am not a bad liar. I’m a great liar.”
Yve smirks. “Then prove it. Two truths and a lie. You’re up.”
I freeze, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. To buy time, I drain the glass, which probably isn’t the smartest move.
“I’ve never seen an uncircumcised penis. My middle name is Aurelia. It’s been six years since I committed a felony.” They spill out of me quicker than I was able to down the wine.
Mouths around the room drop open.
“She’s a terrible liar.”
“And a felon.”
Valentina bursts out laughing. “Only if she got caught. I have a feeling Temperance is too smart for that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yve, the shop owner, pipes up. “Sure thing, Temperance who hasn’t seen enough penises in her life. Now, tell us about the club. If I can rustle up more business catering to these ladies, I need to know.”