Page 88 of Her Guardian
Sarah has been cooking for me most nights. She’s no Chef Karfakis, but I’m eating a lot better than I have in years. She even convinced me to eat a salad… fordinner. Didn’t hold me over very well, but it wasn’t bad. Definitely healthier than eating whatever looks appetizing on the buffet at Salvalagio, like I was doing most days.
Sarah smiles when our lips part, but she quickly squirms out of my arms. “No, we don’t have to order. There’s still plenty of time.”
I follow her to the kitchen and lean against the counter, reaching for a glass and a bottle of scotch. “You don’t even like cooking,” I chuckle as I pour my drink.
“I didn’t used to, but I like cooking for you,” she says, glancing back at me before she opens the fridge and starts removing things. “Plus, I’m learning to make lots of new things!”
“Hopefully you’re not trying out a new salad tonight,” I grunt, taking a sip of my drink. “I was at Salvalagio all day and I’m fucking starving.”
“Didn’t hit up the buffet?” she teases. “Youmustlike what I’m feeding you.”
“Feed me a salad tonight and you’re getting a spanking,” I warn, half-joking, half-serious.
“No salads tonight,” she says. “But instead of standing there watching me, you can go over my podcast transcript. I’m doing another episode based around one of the stories I overheard at Rafferty’s, so you need to approve it.”
“A transcript?” I ask, sipping my drink as I walk over to the table where she was working. “I don’t even get to hear your lovely voice?”
“You can listen to it after I finish it,” she answers. “But approve the transcript, so I don’t have to re-record the whole thing like I did last time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, sitting down and looking at the screen.
“And remember, if there’s anything you think I can say that I didn’t cover, please let me know. I tried to be extremely vague,” she continues. “My notes are beside my laptop.”
I pick up her notebook and flip through a few pages, then toss it down, noticing a newspaper underneath it.
“You ever put together enough about those missing tourists to do an episode?” I ask as I start reading her transcript.
“No, I couldn’t get enough information,” she replies. “No connection between them that I could find except they’re all tourists.”
I glance over at the newspaper, looking at the faces of the women at the bottom of the page. “Anything could happen to them in Vegas. Actually, now that I look at this picture, I think I remember seeing Valerie at Salvalagio a few times. Don’t recognize Catherine or Sadie, though.”
Sarah stops cooking and hurries over. “Wait. Valerie… Catherine… something about a Sadie. I knew those names were familiar! I heard all three of those names at Rafferty’s!”
“I mean, they’re common names.” I shrug.
“No, Boyd. It was two guys. They said those exact names. If you hadn’t burned the notes with the initials, I would have realized it sooner. Holy shit! That means there’s a connection!” Sarah grabs the newspaper and her notes. She looks frustrated for a moment, then throws them both down. “I need to finish dinner before I dig into this.”
I glance at the newspaper, then turn my attention back to her transcript. A few missing tourists in Las Vegas isn’t that uncommon. People go missing all the time, and usually, theysurface later, ashamed of losing all their money or coming down from whatever bender they were on. If the Bratva were still active like they used to be, missing women would definitely be a cause for concern, but even the cell we recently wiped out wasn’t that stupid.
“You did a great job with this episode,” I say, getting up after I finish it. “But stick to what you wrote. No going off script. If you do, I’ll need to listen to the entire thing before you upload it.”
“I know,” she replies.
I return to the kitchen, sip my scotch, and send some watermelon clouds into the air while I watch her cook dinner. I really do like having her here. I already know I want it to be permanent. I don’t want to go back to the lonely life I lived before I met Sarah.
My phone buzzes and I reach for it. Then my eyes get wide.
“Sarah, dinner will have to wait,” I snap, grabbing my suit jacket.
“Why? What’s going on?” she asks, turning to me with a confused look on her face.
“The gas sensors went off at the Bellamy residence!” I say, hurrying to the door.
“Wait! I’m coming with you!” she calls out, furiously trying to get the food off the burners.
“No,” I say firmly. “I have to go straight there. The Mafia Prince Killer could still be inside. It’s too risky.”
I slam the door without giving her a chance to respond. This is one time shehasto listen. Once I get to the elevator, I pull out my Glock, and make sure there’s a round chambered.But hopefully I won’t have to use it. I’ve got a dart gun in my SUV. Massimo made sure everyone had one, fully loaded with tranquilizers that can take down an elephant. We want the Mafia Prince Killer alive, otherwise his dead man’s switch could trigger.
