A Wicked Song - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,25
MacBook that I’d forgotten up there. Once inside my apartment, I pause and inhale, looking for that sweet scent I’d smelled downstairs, but find nothing.
Returning back downstairs, I find no hint of that smell and once I’m in my office behind my desk, I can’t seem to dismiss it as my imagination. I pull up the security feed and start tabbing through it. To my surprise, there’s a random three minutes blacked out at seven AM, which could be when Kace left but that feels too early, though I never checked the time. Seven just doesn’t feel right, though, and why would Kace blackout the feed? Confused and concerned, I tab further into the feed and find Kace leaving at nearly eight. Maybe the blackout was a power outage. This building is old.
Nancy buzzes me with a client call I take, followed by another, but I never stop tabbing through the feed.
I’ve just finished a promising call with a lead on high-dollar wine when the feed catches my eye again. I straighten, a chill running down my spine. There’s another dead spot in the security feed, for three minutes again, but the timestamp is what sets me on edge. I grab my cell and check the time of the missed call. Three-eleven. I then check the time of the dead spot on the security feed. Three-eighteen.
A chill runs down my spine. Was someone here when that call was made? I swallow hard, thinking of the perfume I’d smelled. Could it have been Sofia?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two hours later, those missing spots on the camera footage still taunt me, even with my work in full gear. I’ve located a treasure for a client, a set of antique clocks she’s been pining for, and while it’s only a five-thousand-dollar commission, it’s a start. Unfortunately, the wine hunting is going slower than I’d hoped. I’ve found small jewels here or there, but nothing that will appeal to buyers like Ed and Alexander. I need a prize bottle to attract those kinds of high caliber collectors, and to ensure a pricey commission. And this is important to me now not just for the singular urgent need for a big commission. It also seems logical and smart to approach Ed about a retainer to replace the one Alexander offered me and that’s my plan. A deal with Alexander is not a good idea and as panicked as I am in some ways, I’m not a rash decision kind of person. The problem is, Gio is not me. He would make a rash decision. He’s seen the carrot and bitten it before he realized it had its own teeth.
About noon, Nancy sets a takeout container and plasticware in front of me. “Surprise. I ordered you lunch. I opted for your favorite mac n’ cheese from Cindy’s Diner, since it requires only one hand to eat.”
“You’re an angel.”
She grins. “I know.”
I open the plastic around my spoon. “When are you leaving?”
“So much love it’s killing me.” She pats on her chest above her heart. “And I’m leaving at the usual time,” she says primly. “Two o’clock.” She doesn’t wait for me to argue. She disappears into the hallway and I sigh. She’s stubborn and I love her. I wish I could do more for her, but right now, keeping her safe is my number one goal.
I open the lid to my mac n’ cheese which looks like nothing but cheesy wonderful goodness and a million calories. But what the heck. I’ve eaten a cookie for breakfast. Why not pasta for lunch? It’s not like I’m rolling around naked with the hottest man I’ve ever known and want to look good or anything like that. Okay, I am, and I do want to look good, but whoever said skinny tasted better than food was lying. Kace has a gym. I’ll use it, but I’m not skipping my meal.
I’m three bites in when my phone buzzes with a text where it lies on the desk next to me. I do some maneuvering with my injured hand, manage to punch the appropriate buttons, and find a message from Kace waiting for me. There are two photos of two violins with a message that reads: Charles Francois (pere) violin 1840 and a Lorenzo Carcassi violin 1743. What does it say that I wish you were here to see them with me?
I’m filled up in the best of ways with those words and set my fork down to reply. After only a moment of