Thyme to Live: A We Sisters Three Mystery by Melissa F Miller Page B

risky to extremely dangerous. And, if you want to go to the cops, I won’t stop you. But I’m not giving up. I’m going to keep looking for Helena. I don’t have time to waste cooling my heels in a police station and repeating the story for a parade of uniforms.”
    I studied his face but didn’t respond. His dark brown eyes looked tired and scared but resolved.
    He went on, “I’ll never be able to thank you for helping me as much as you have. But I can’t guarantee your safety going forward. You should walk away from me right now.”
    I pictured myself standing up, pitching my water bottle in the nearby recycling bin, and finding my way to the nearest subway station. It would be the safest thing to do. Understandable. Smart, even.
    Instead, I leaned across the park bench and pressed my mouth against his. He froze for a moment then kissed me back—an urgent, searching kiss. My hands found his head and I laced my fingers together in his thick, curly hair.

12
    W e walked , holding hands in that self-conscious way people do when they don’t yet know how their fingers best fit together, until we found a rundown Chinese restaurant with a blinking open sign, sticky tables, and a bored, surly staff. Even I, consumer of a strip club lunch buffet, knew this wasn’t the kind of restaurant you opted for over a jerky stick, but it was empty, quiet, and got us off the street and away from prying eyes. At this point, I didn’t even know what neighborhood we were in, other than it was someplace I’d never been.
    We seated ourselves, squeezing into the booth beside one another. I could almost hear my sisters mocking us for sitting next to each other rather than across the table from one another. Rosemary, in particular, viewed it as a telltale sign of a new romance. Thinking about myself engaged in a romance with Victor got me all flustered and my face warmed up. I could tell I was blushing, which just made me blush more furiously. Victor rested his hand on my thigh under the table. That didn’t help.
    A grumpy waiter made his way over to us and didn’t seem remotely surprised by our request for “just jasmine tea,” which confirmed my impression of the food. He strode away without another word and returned almost immediately. He slammed the pot and two small teacups down on the table along with the bill then disappeared without ceremony.
    Victor placed a twenty-dollar bill on top of the check while I poured the tea.
    “I probably have a five,” I offered, reaching for my wallet.
    He shook his head. “A twenty buys us whatever good will that guy has, which is probably not much.”
    “Maybe his shoes are too tight.”
    Victor laughed. “Maybe. But either way, it doesn’t look like he rakes in the tips at this joint. Let’s hope he’ll be grateful enough to keep his mouth shut if anyone comes looking for us.”
    My brain stopped replaying our kiss and focused on his words. “You think Gabriel can track us down here? I thought you said those guys probably tagged the car while we were in your sister’s apartment?” The memory of being shot at supplanted the memory of making out, and my pulse rate ticked up a couple notches for all the wrong reasons.
    “That’s my working theory. But until my friend confirms whether he found a tracking device on his Lincoln, we shouldn’t assume that’s how they caught up with us.”
    I stared at him. “How else could they have known where we were?”
    He shrugged. “Who knows?” He dumped a packet of artificial sweetener into his cup and swirled it around with a somewhat-clean spoon.
    I sipped mine, unadulterated. I don’t care for sweet drinks. And even if I did, I wouldn’t use the other spoon to save my life. It was coated with what appeared to be rice and plum sauce that had gone through a dishwasher and gelled onto the utensil.
    He flipped open his notebook and picked up Helena’s phone. “Let’s call the Philly number first.”
    “Are you sure?” We didn’t know