I swept my gaze around the room, looking for the woman who was fast becoming one of my addictions.
Andie bounced over. “Grace isn’t here. She’s with her lawyer, meeting with Judge Dixon.”
I vaguely recalled Duke telling Grace the day of her meeting with the judge. “Any verdict yet? And why aren’t you there? You were the victim.”
Andie flicked her red ponytail over her shoulder. “Grace is the one in the spotlight. I haven’t pressed charges, so if I do, then I could share my side of the story. As it stands, I don’t remember much of anything, and that’s what drives me crazy the most.”
I hardly knew Andie, but from my standpoint, she seemed to be handling the ordeal okay. Her blue eyes were watery, though.
“If you ever need muscle, call me. I mean it.”
She hugged me. “Thank you. You are everything Grace says about you.”
I had a few questions on the tip of my tongue, but I decided to refrain from asking. I would only be torturing myself.
She stabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I should get back to my trainer.”
“I’m looking for Duke.” I checked his office window. If I knew my friend, he loved to look out from his perch, much like he had done when he owned a nightclub.
“The last time I saw him, he was talking to a man who was asking for you,” Andie said.
My eyebrows zipped toward my hairline. “Let me guess. Average height. Dressed in a sharp suit. Mexican descent?”
“That’s right.”
Motherfucker.
Arturo had been leaving message after message. I was surprised he hadn’t been between Sabine’s legs while I was in Nashville. She’d gushed about how much of a gentleman Arturo was. Disgusting, in my mind.
“Thanks again, Brian,” she said then darted over to her trainer.
I doubted Arturo was giving up on securing my help to talk to the gang leaders on his behalf, but maybe he’d also asked Duke to help.
My phone went off in my jeans pocket. I fished it out to find Sabine’s name on the screen.
I’d made it abundantly clear to her before I left Nashville not to contact me anymore. So I had a feeling something might have gone wrong with the restaurant. If that was the case, the new owners had my number.
I walked out of the gym to horns honking and pedestrians hurrying by. At three in the afternoon, rush hour was beginning.
My cell stopped vibrating, only to ping again.
“What, Sabine?” I snapped, settling against the stone façade of the building and out of the way of businessmen and women rushing to their next destination.
“It appears you left an accordion folder with your important papers in your office,” she said. “Fran’s birth certificate, bank statements, and photos.”
The blood rushed out of me. I’d placed that folder in my box as I packed up my office. “That can’t be. I specifically remember tucking into the banker box.”
“Well, it’s here,” she said. “You must’ve taken it out.”
Anger morphed into rage as my head spun. “I. Did. Not.”
“Hey, why are you mad at me?” Her sweet tone scraped along my nerves.
“Really? You’ve been on my ass since I hired you, always in my business, asking questions that are none of your concern and cozying up to my daughter, hoping she would date your son. So I’ll ask. What’s your endgame, Sabine?”
“What are you accusing me of?”
I was about to crush the phone in my hand. “Desperation.” Then something dawned on me. “Did Arturo put you up to spying on me?” For all I knew, Arturo could’ve been in Nashville to see Sabine. The two could be working against me. Sabine did need the money to pay her sister’s medical expenses.
