The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

never touched me at all. And I have to fight back a shiver, suppress a small chill that runs down my spine as he looks at me, his cocoa-colored eyes almost black underneath the dark sky.

He finally lets me go.

“We might not be open for another two hours. But that doesn’t mean you can’t wait inside.” He straightens to his full height. “Are you on shift today?”

“Not officially.”

“Why don’t you come on for work then? I know you could use the extra money…”

It’s a comment laced with latent curiosity. But I step inside anyway.

As I cross the threshold, I wonder quietly to myself why I can’t shake the cold settling on my skin, the silent frigidity seeping into my bones as I walk inside with Rick alone.

I inhale a deep breath, shrugging the feeling off, and for the first time I can remember, notice that Rick actually looks happy to see me.

The bar manager smiles.

NOAH

“Can we push this piece of shit car any faster?”

Jase rolls his eyes. “For Christ’s sake, it’s only a Ferrari, Noah. And the answer to your question is: Yes, we could. If we want to end up on the side of the goddamned highway in a ditch.”

Lachlan adds in. “Grandfather always did warn us about those ditches. At least we’d be the best dressed corpses anyone’s ever seen.”

He’s right, you know. We would be in our three-piece tuxedos.

Crammed in what should be a two-seater for Jase and Mindy’s honeymoon trip, we’re instead heading back on the highway to New York. The thought of me loving anyone this much has my brothers sent into overdrive to help, but their commentary on the ride over is the last thing I need, each brother voicing his own opinion as we drive into the city to find the woman I love.

And Lachlan’s the worst. He pipes up for unprompted advice number fifty-seven, his bowtie crooked as he cocks his head from what should be the Ferrari’s trunk.

“And where exactly are we driving to so fast? At these speeds, it’d better be food since I missed brunch. That is, if we don’t hydroplane and end up on the side of the road?”

Jase calls over his shoulder from the driver’s seat. “We’re almost in the city. You can eat once we’re there.”

“Please, tell me it won’t be that soil-serving restaurant near the gallery…”

I glance back at him. “We’re headed to Sophia’s apartment. It’s the only place I can think to go.”

“Now let me get this straight. This is a woman who stole from you, correct?”

I suddenly regret telling him the truth back at the house. “Yes.”

“And then you blackmailed her with a note confessing to the crime?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“And then you fell in love with her?”

“Once again, Lachlan…for the fiftieth time, yes.”

“And you think that Hepatitis A ran her off?”

Shaking my head, I wonder why I tell my little brother anything at all. I resist the urge to nod. “Yes, I’m sure Ainsley said something to scare her away.”

“Well, I’ll say this: You sure know how to pick up them, bro. Between your beloved thief and—What’s her name, Alzheimers? You’ve got an array of women who would scare off the strongest of men.”

“I don’t have an array of women anymore, Lach. Just one. And if we don’t find her, I’m afraid she’ll run.” I glance out the rainy window. “You don’t know Sophia. What that woman wants, she gets. And if she wants to get far away from me, that’s exactly what she’ll do.”

I peek up at a sign that says we’ve entered the city limits. “Let’s just make sure to get to her before she does.”

And soon Jase’s little Ferrari careens into the Bronx, speeding fast amidst the slush. We cross over the bridge, heading into Manhattan. Soon as we enter Harlem, the wind picks up, slamming against the tiny car.

Nearly tossed off the road by a slew of other cabs and buses, we actually make it in one piece to Sophia’s apartment building’s door.

I jump out of the passenger seat, running through the rain and inside. One minute after sweet-talking the familiar front desk clerk, Julia, and I plant myself in front of Sophia’s front door, my chest tight. Heart thudding a dangerous beat, pulse pounding, I take my fist, hammering against the door to the rhythm of my own respiratory system, shirt and jacket soaked, hair wet as I slump against the thick slab, demanding Sophia let me in.

My voice grows hoarse.

“Sophia!” I call out. “Sophia, I know you’re in there, dammit. Talk to me. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

“Sophia!” My bellows echo down the hall. But there’s nothing on the other side of the door. Just silence.

The tightening of defeat starts to squeeze inside my chest until I hear a door opening, only to discover the one behind me swinging, a tall dark-haired man now standing in its frame.

The neighbor stares at me through pale blue eyes. “You a cop?”

I glare back, my eyes narrowing as we face. “No.”

“A lawyer? Or a process server?”

I blink. “I don’t even know what the hell a process server is, but I’m not that either.” I turn. “Mind telling me who you are?”

“You might not recognize me from The Alchemist.” He glances at me, up and down. “And for a second, I didn’t recognize you. But I’m Sophia’s coworker. And neighbor, of course.” The stranger steps forward, extending his hand. “Andrew Fletcher. You can call me Drew.”

I take it, shaking it. “Noah Quinn.”

“You’re Sophia’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“No, I…” I hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t used that word. But I loved the sound of it. “Yes.” I nod. “I am. Have you seen her?”

“Not since she packed and left for Connecticut for the weekend. Something about a wedding, I think…”

He trails off, peering down at my tuxedo, before turning with me to find Lachlan and Jase coming down the hall.

“Did you find her?” Lach asks, breathing heavily.

“No, not yet.” I answer, looking over his shoulder. A small curtain