River of No Return : A Jake Trent Novel (9781451698053) by David Riley Bertsch

backlit the serpentine bar. Ice was packed in stainless-steel trays beneath the booze, chilling raw oysters from various regions, all marked with small slate boards and chalk. The room was bustling, and Jake could hardly absorb the frantic scene.
    Their water glasses were filled. Crystal goblets. Within a minute, a server came by to ask for their drink order.
    â€œVeuve, please,” Divya requested.
    The young man nodded. “And you, sir?”
    â€œOld-fashioned.” Jake felt as though he might need it to get through the evening.
    â€œYeah, you are.” Divya brushed his slacks with her bare foot.
    Ugh. “Champagne? What are you celebrating?”
    â€œA reunion.” A stunning, devilish smile.
    They toasted with their water.
    The drinks arrived just in time. Divya was asking Jake about his ex-flame Elspet. What happened? Not exactly Jake’s favorite topic of conversation. Somehow his fumbling answer led to the recent drama surrounding Noelle, which wasn’t any better. Jake ended that topic too when Divya said Noelle didn’t deserve him anyway.
    This made Jake miss Noelle immensely. He had no idea what type of woman Divya thought he deserved, but he knew the comment was a slight against Noelle. Something Noelle herself would never have said about anyone.
    Jake’s first old-fashioned went down easy, so he ordered a second. The tranquil azure lighting and clean steel decor—plus the bourbon—soothed his mood.
    Still, all he could think about was going home.
    After the two bourbon drinks and a glass of water, Jake excused himself to go to the bathroom. The door was heavy stainless, like an entrance to a walk-in freezer, and the attendant rushed from inside and pulled to help him.
    â€œThanks, got it,” Jake said. He meant Unnecessary .
    The stall doors and walls went floor to ceiling. Obviously, hearing another man’s bowel movement wasn’t in line with the “chic, upscale environs” the restaurant intended to create. Or whatever Divya had called it. Some silly phrase meaning overpriced .
    Jake sidled up to the urinal.
    â€œNot from here?” the attendant asked. Jake turned around, hoping the man wasn’t talking to him. There were no other customers in the room.
    Jake went to the sink, washed his hands, and avoided further conversation. “My oysters are getting cold.” He accommodated the man with a smile.
    * * *
    They didn’t get back to Divya’s until 11 p.m. Jake was upstairs in the guest bedroom changing. He had a French 75 in his hand, a drink he wasn’t familiar with but that Divya had forced on him. Not bad, really. Fancy gin and champagne. Better than a Pabst. Walking over to the bedside table, he took his cell phone from his pocket. He had forgotten to turn it back on after dinner.
    It buzzed for a minute straight after he turned it on. Six voice mails, all from J.P. And two text messages. He read the texts first:
    Dude—need you! Esma is missing. Something’s wrong.
    And,
    Please call back! ASAP!
    The messages had their intended effect. Without listening to the voice mails, Jake dialed J.P. It rang twice before he answered.
    â€œHello?” J.P. sounded foggy. Probably drunk.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Divya peered in the room mischievously. Jake waved her away.
    â€œMan, she’s gone. Without a trace.”
    â€œEsma? You said she went home to Mexico.”
    â€œShe did, yeah. Then she told me she was coming home. She missed me. Now she’s missing. Kidnapped.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œShe told me. Texted saying she was on her way. When I tried to call her, there was some dude’s voice.”
    Jake immediately recalled Liz Hingley.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean she’s missing.” Jake thought about how to word this. “Maybe she was just with a friend.”
    â€œNo, Jake. I know you’re smart, man. But I get this feeling. I’ve got some