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Reid
I gripped my phone in my hand so tightly that I threatened breaking the screen as I texted Alex from the driver’s seat of my black government-issued SUV, still parked on the street outside of the Midtown Bank Café.
Reid: Where did she go, Alex?
Alex: Who? Where did you go?
Reid: Dammit Alex, where is she? I know you well enough to know that you are sitting on the answer to that question.
Alex: We’re partners. It’s my job to make sure you don’t make stupid decisions while on a case. Let me point out that it is of my professional opinion as a sworn in agent of the law that this is a stupid ass decision.
Reid: We’re best friends, and I already know she is on a date. Where is she?
Alex: Really? You’re going to pull out the best friend card? How old are we, Reid?
Reid: Remember that time Jackson Rogers was picking on you in elementary school out behind the playground after school? He was bigger than you, and he had you pinned down in the dirt.
Alex: You had your cape on, the homemade one that your mom made with the letter R on the back. You ran over screaming at the top of your lungs that you were coming to save the day.
Reid: And we both got our asses kicked, but we did it together. You’re my best friend, Alex. I’m asking you, as my best friend, to tell me where the fuck she went.
Alex: Fifth Park Place
Reid: I love you.
Alex: Don’t make me send my wife to rescue your stupid ass.
I rolled my eyes as I sat my phone down and shifted the SUV into drive. Fifth Park Place, owned by Walsh, Inc. I’m familiar with the place, and luckily, it’s not too far from here.
I handed my keys off to the valet outside of the entrance to the restaurant, not wanting to waste time looking for a parking space. It’s been over an hour since I watched her walk out of the café. It’s possible they’ve already left, and the thought of someone else touching Holly only caused the testosterone to pump through my system that much faster.
I don’t want to take time to pause and evaluate why I feel this way, nor do I want to know the answers to the questions that are repeatedly running through my mind right now.
She could have accepted my dinner invitation. We could have done this nicely, but no – she had to be difficult about it – she took away the choice, and now she hasn’t left me with many other options.
I approached the hostess stand, and scanned the dining area, unable to spot the golden blonde locks I was so desperate to find.
“Can I help you, sir?” A beautiful young woman with dark hair, wearing a black dress looked up at me with big green eyes as she approached her post with a tablet in her hand.
“Yes, I’m a friend of Ryan Walsh, reservation for Chapman.” I slipped my hands into the pockets of my slacks as I waited.
“I’m sorry sir, we don’t have a Chapman reservation this evening, we’re all booked up.” She spoke without so much as a glance at her tablet.
“Please, if you wouldn’t mind checking again. It was a last-minute reservation. I apologize.” I smiled the smile that has been melting panties off of the female population since I hit puberty, and I watched as her cheeks blushed. She tapped her manicured nails on her screen until she found what I already knew was there. Thank you, Alex Straton.
“I see. Right this way, Mr. Chapman.” I followed as she led me through the restaurant, full of men in overpriced suits and women dressed for a night out. Fifth Park Place is a five-star dining establishment and has a waiting list that spans months. The man that brought Holly here tonight either pulled some strings to impress her or he had this table booked well in advance, I don’t particularly like either option.
She stopped at an empty table set for two near a window that overlooked the sparkling lights of the city of Carlton. “Your waiter will be with you in a moment, thank you.”
I skimmed over the menu, not particularly hungry, and waited to order a drink. I don’t plan on staying long enough for dinner.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as my eyes took in my surroundings and I made mental notes, counting people – watching body language – anything to distract myself for a moment.
Alex: All the way at the back, around the secluded partition, private table. Keep walking, there is a hallway that leads to a private bank of elevators. Rear exit to the right of the elevator bank.
I smiled as I read his text. He gives me a hard time, but the man loves me.
I have no idea what I’m doing here, why I’m being pulled to this woman, and why I can’t seem to stay away when every indicator I have is pointing me in the opposite direction. I’ve always made calculated decisions; sure, I base those on my gut instincts, but I also take into consideration known factors affecting our case and weigh the risks associated with those with the unknowns.
But right now? I’m going against decades of training, making decisions on instinct alone, and hoping that my case doesn’t implode as a result.
