Page 82 of Love Her

I watched him go, keeping my head held high, and managed not to make eye contact with anyone else on my way back outside.

47

RHAIM

Ispent the rest of the afternoon scouting locations.

It’d been awhile since I’d scoured the city for a murder spot, and that, plus New York’s general obsession with construction, meant that a lot of the places I would’ve chosen to commit a crime a few years ago were gentrified or otherwise occupied by forklifts.

I needed to find a place that was either in the kind of neighborhood a bullet wouldn’t matter, or would be so out of the norm as to make everyone who heard it assume it was a car backfiring.

Not that I intended to need a gun, but….

“Fifth parking garage tonight?” Sable said, when she called, and I picked up.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re tracing me, and yet,” I said, after putting her on speakerphone.

“How’s it going?”

“Baxter Street has too much potential for foot traffic, Delmar West is too sketchy, and Bleeker and Mercer,” the garage I was currently drifting down inside of, to its lower floors, “probably isn’t sketchy enough. But—” I was aiming for finding a placeequidistant between both Bix and Zane preferred level of grunge. I paused my truck, checking the corners for mirrors and cameras. “I think I can make it work. Assuming you can?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s a Friday—I’ll make up a sign saying any car that’s there past eight will be towed, to keep the floor clear for line repainting on Saturday. None of those assholes will risk getting paint on their cars.”

As I drove past a row of G-Wagens, Range Rovers, and a white Bentley with a Baby On Board suction cup in the window, that they probably meant ironically, and had probably had via surrogate, I was forced to agree.

“And any one that does stay, I’ll have towed for real.”

“Sounds good. You line up my rental?”

“I found the perfect match—one matte gray BMW x5 awaits you at Velare. But their counter closes at seven, so you’d better hurry.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, swinging my truck out of the lower level of the garage. “I’m timing things.”

48

LIA

Iwas at Alder & Vine precisely on the dot, at seven, in a new little black dress.

Sleeveless.

Because if this ship was going down tonight—which I very much hoped it was—I wanted to go down swinging.

The hostess saw me and took me to my seat immediately, and I was surprised to find that Marcus was already there. He stood up when he saw me, gave me a brief but tolerable hug, and then sat back down, across from me.

Although the location of our table was intimate, it was a large restaurant, and I knew anyone who cared to had seen me come in—and after the waiter took my drink order, I gave Marcus a look.

“Why are we here?” I asked him.

“Because if I back out now, I’ll look like a fool.” He gave me a calm smile, looking loving and attentive. “And also because I don’t think I want to.” I only had a moment to process that before he said, “Put your hand out.”

I did—and he put his over it, his thumb stroking the back of my hand gently.

“I think I signed something saying you can’t do that,” I murmured, and that made him laugh.

“Relax. People are watching.”

“I know,” I said, letting my shoulders settle. “They’ve been watching all day.”

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