Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,159

his wife, but had realized through reading their texts that Smythe and his son-in-law did not get along.

He was lowering the freezer lid when a memory tickled his brain.

Concerts. Children.

“Oh,” he breathed.

Kowalski had a kid. A little boy, around six years old. On Wednesday, the kid had done a recital at his school. It was a private school, because DJ remembered Kowalski complaining about the cost of tuition when they’d been negotiating with a customer who’d wanted a break on the price of the kilo of coke they were selling.

This could work. He knew what the kid looked like, kind of, having once seen a photo of the boy while peeking at Kowalski’s phone. He’d taken every opportunity to spy on Kowalski because, while he’d trusted him to a point, Kowalski was all about himself. As are we all.

He’d wanted to learn, wanted to know the important details, so he’d risked looking over Kowalski’s shoulder. Therefore, DJ had a decent recollection of the boy’s face.

Schools had Facebook pages and websites. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1:15 P.M.

King Triton embraced the newly wedded Ariel, drawing a happy sigh from Abigail, who cuddled between Mercy and Liza on the floor of Rafe’s apartment. The place was small and its TV tiny, but they’d all congregated there because, even though last night had been a “girls’ night,” no one wanted to exclude Gideon and Rafe, who couldn’t climb the stairs.

“Ariel’s gonna be okay now, right?” Abigail asked.

Mercy kissed the top of the child’s head. “She is. And she and Prince Eric are going to live happily ever after.”

“Even though she’s only sixteen and kind of a brat,” Gideon commented dryly from the sofa.

Liza thought that Abigail would object to this, but the girl surprised her yet again.

“She really is,” Abigail said. “She should have obeyed her papa.”

Liza glanced at Amos, smiling at the contented look on his face. But anything she was about to say fled from her mind when someone started knocking impatiently on the outer door.

A moment later, everyone relaxed. It was Sasha and Erin returning from doing their errands.

Rafe’s cane thumped as he walked to his apartment door in irritation. “Why didn’t you just use your key?” he demanded. “Instead of knocking loud enough for the neighbors to hear?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Sasha said. “I wasn’t the one who made all that racket. I have a key.” She leaned around Rafe, a plastic bag with the optometrist’s logo dangling from her fingers. “Glasses, anyone?”

Liza pushed to her feet, crossing the room to retrieve the glasses. “Thanks, but who—”

She sighed. Dammit. Tom stood on the front stoop, his blue eyes flashing. Liza had no idea what he was angry about now.

“You knocked?” Liza asked him. “Loudly?”

“I didn’t realize I was being loud,” Tom said, penitent. In fact, someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t be able to tell that he was angry at all. “May I speak to you, Liza?”

She smiled to put everyone at ease even though her heart was pounding. “Of course.”

She crossed the foyer into the garage, once again not waiting to see if Tom followed.

He did, of course, closing the door behind him and walking right up to her, getting in her space. His body filled out the tight T-shirt he wore and his jeans were dirty, like he’d been working outside. She didn’t care that he was filthy and sweaty. Hungry for the sight of him, she drank him in.

Until he spoke. “You didn’t think to call me?”

“About?”

His expression was forbidding. “Sunnyside Oaks? Were you going to tell me that you got the job? Were you going to tell Raeburn?”

“I already did. I texted him as soon as I got off the phone with Sunnyside Oaks.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he ground his teeth. “But you didn’t text me?”

Okay. “I . . . didn’t know I was supposed to.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. “Supposed to?”

She hesitated. “I was under the impression that Raeburn and Molina were my contacts.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “They are. Because you went over my head.”

She squared her shoulders. “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

She wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. “Because you weren’t willing to support me.”

His fingers tightened in his hair, yanking on it hard. He was hurting himself and she needed him to stop. But she said nothing, waiting for the flood of words that she could sense coming.

But when he finally spoke, it wasn’t in a shout, but in a hoarse whisper.