Page 7 of Timelessly Ours

While you’re at it, let’s make ‘em the worst.

With that consent, I make the right onto a familiar street. It’s been over two years since I’d been here, but I doubt anyone has forgotten me.

With my poker face firmly covering the painful betrayal, I park my car and walk toward the place I considered my second home—where no one judged me—because no one cared.

Sylvie’s Bikers and Babes.

I’m not sure the reaction I’ll get when that faithful bell chimes as soon as I enter the dive bar and ask for my old boss. My old friend.

“Hello, boys. Sylvie here?”

2

It’s late for my morning coffee and I need it. Bad.

I should have come down hours ago for it, but I couldn’t leave her. If Nicole had woken up—even if she’d recognize my home within minutes—it wasn’t worth leaving her alone and panicked.

I needed to ensure she knew she felt safe the moment she opened her eyes.

I wait forever for the fresh coffee to brew, wondering if she’s alright up there. I’m instantly relieved when I hear the pipes work and the sound of the upstairs shower running. Pulling open the cupboard, I take out another mug—one for her—and drop in a few sugar cubes.

She’s going to want to know how she ended up in my house. Where I found her. And I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her.

No. I’m not sure she’s ready to hear it.

11 hours ago

By the time I pull out of the lot, I’ve already lost sight of which way her sedan went. There’s no hiding my giant white Range Rover behind her. And I can’t risk her picking up speed or shooting glances in her rearview mirror if she spots me.

I’m no amateur.

That kind of car chase is how people get hurt.

And Nicole’s been hurt enough.

“Stop,” I growl at myself and pull over, reaching for my cell phone. “Hey, David,” I greet my old friend at the police station quickly. “I need a favor, but it’s a personal favor. Off the record.”

There’s silence on the other line for a few seconds. “Collins. How’s it going, buddy. Congrats on the win tonight.”

I shake my head. “Right. Thanks. Listen—”

“Would have been good to see it…”

I sigh. “Season tickets if you do this for me. Without questions.”

“Shoot.”

“I need to know a list of places Nicole Kane used to hang out.”

More silence. I’m ready to offer the guy my job for the answer since it’s clear he’s hesitating. “Wish I didn’t agree to the no questions part.”

“Dave.” I resist the urge to tell him it’s urgent. It would only create unwanted attention from the Buffalo P.D. And I’m seriously hoping we won’t need it.

I hear typing in the back. “I don’t know where she hung out, but I’m sending a list of places she’s worked… and places she’s been present when we made arrests. There’s no arrest record for her, but she’s been a witness plenty.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll send you those passes Monday.”

“See ya at the next game,” David says, like he got the better end of the deal.

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