Page 92 of Vow

“You called me saying you had something for me?” Haven asked.

Anticipation and anxiety curled thickly in her stomach like coils tangling around one another. The tighter they wove, the more she wanted to fidget or move. She’d felt like this from the moment she decided to hire a private investigator to find information on Valeria, or even where her friend was right now.

It’d never really left.

Wally cleared his throat, and nodded. His gaze darted around to take in the other patrons sitting at various tables, and fully lost in their food or discussions. Some had their faces shoved into tablets or phones. None of them were paying any attention to Haven and the private investigator.

Why was he so nervous?

Haven could have easily shrugged that off by saying it was just the man’s ways. He probably preferred less public meeting spaces, or something like that. He didn’t like doing business where anyone could overhear, or something.

Her gut said that wasn’t it.

Maybe that should have been her first hint that this meeting was unlikely to go the way she had been hoping. Still, Haven refused to give up or give in to the anxiety that just wouldn’t leave her alone.

This—trying to find something, or anything—on Valeria and Maria was one of the last things she needed to get done before she could get the hell out of this city. The club was sold, and she hadn’t been back since the fucking ink dried. Her house had an offer put on it last week, and the paperwork was being started on all of that.

If all went well, she would be in Flordia with her mother and father by the end of June. She had a few minor things to tie up, but then she was gone.

Finally.

Haven was both sad and relieved about that fact. The heaviness that swelled in her broken heart every time she felt good about being able to put the distance between herself, and the man in this city that she knew she needed to leave behind was as confusing as it was infuriating.

It kept her up at night. And when she did sleep, she woke up with a tear-stained pillow more often than she cared to admit. Being alone was the most lonely place to be, Haven had come to learn.

This should be easy.

This was right.

Her heart didn’t seem to care about any of that. All it cared about was the fact it had been broken again. Not that she hadn’t expected to be hurt again, because she had. That didn’t exactly help to make the hole in her chest any smaller, though.

“Are you listening, girly?”

Haven blinked at Wally’s amused question. “Sorry?”

The private investigator waved the folder in his hand for Haven to see. He must have pulled it out of that black messenger bag he always carried around when she was lost in her thoughts. Silently, he set the folder on the table, and pushed it across to her.

“There you are,” he said, “have a looksie, and tell me what you think about the things I found on your little friend.”

Haven didn’t see the point of this whole charade. He could easily tell her what was in the folder, but whatever. She flipped the folder open, and quickly scanned the contents on the first page. Her brow dipped as she read familiar words that she already knew about Val, and where she had come from, who she was married to, and more. Flipping to the next page, Haven found similar information that Andino had already provided to her about Valeria.

None of this was even new.

Peering at the man, Haven said, “I already know a lot of this stuff.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I hope you understand why when I say I won’t be taking on this job beyond what I have already done and provided to you, Miss Murphy.”

Haven froze. “What?”

“You gave me a name, and some cursory information. You mentioned the cartel aspect, but I honestly thought that was simply another American who thinks every Mexican that comes across the border illegally must be involved with crime in some way. I did not expect to find that this woman is a runaway Cartel leader’s wife who took his child.”

A lump formed in Haven’s throat—hard, and hot. No matter how many times she tried to swallow, it just wouldn’t fucking loosen a bit.

“She didn’t have the child when she left—she would have been pregnant,” Haven forced herself to say.