Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(68)

“Time to go home.”

“Huh?” He looked up from the mess of papers on his desk. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and gotten out his reading glasses.

“It’s seven o’clock.”

He looked at the clock on the wall, then frowned. “I’m not done. But if I don’t leave now, I’ll miss dinner and that would make my beautiful wife very angry.”

“We can’t have that.” I smiled and left him to collect my things. With my new Chanel bag slung over my shoulder, I shut off the light to my office just as Daniel came out of his.

We walked outside together, stepping into the muggy evening air. This summer had been miserably hot, and even this late in the evening, mid-August was brutal. Dressed lightly in linen trousers and a sleeveless silk top, I was still sweating.

“Where’s your driver?” Daniel asked after I locked up the studio’s door, seeing that my town car was notably absent from the street.

“I told him to give me an extra thirty minutes. I’m going to go grab an iced coffee.” I pointed to the coffee shop on the next block over. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here.” He waved, setting off on the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

I started toward the coffee shop, though I didn’t really need the caffeine. I just wasn’t ready to go home.

It would be empty there. By the time I made it down to SoHo, it would be getting dark. Carrie had left hours ago after making me a dinner I could simply reheat. Which left me a huge, spacious penthouse with nothing but the television to keep me company.

Alone and bored, I’d no doubt stare at Dakota’s name in my phone. I wanted to hear his voice more than I wanted the carbs I’d told Carrie to cut from the menu for the next two weeks.

As I walked to the coffee shop, a tall man with dark hair ducked into a cab across the street, and I did a double take. For a split second, I thought it was Dakota. It wasn’t.

That old cliché was true. You saw the one you loved around every corner.

“Don’t scream.”

My ears registered the voice before my brain caught up in time for me to panic.

While I’d been looking across the street, a man had slid right into my side and wrapped his arm around my hips. He smelled like rotten eggs and cigarettes.

My feet froze on the sidewalk, my heels skidding as I tried to keep my balance. I pushed the stranger away, but he held on tighter, his fingertips biting into my flesh.

Something pointed was pressed into my side, but I was too scared to look down and see what it was. A gun probably, or maybe a knife.

Panic seized the air in my lungs, and my vision went blurry as he whispered in my ear, “It’s a good evening to hand over that purse.”

I stayed still as he stripped the gold-chain strap from my shoulder. Then he took a long, audible sniff of my hair, pressed a kiss to my temple and was gone.

Along with my purse, keys, phone. Everything I’d brought to the studio with me this morning.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk. The entire encounter had lasted thirty seconds at most, but I was struggling to comprehend it. Did that just happen? It wasn’t dark. I wasn’t in an alley or a sketchy part of town. I’d been walking to a coffee shop in a wealthy neighborhood. And I’d gotten mugged.

Police. I needed to call the police.

I took a step and my ankle gave way. I caught myself, standing upright again. I went to try another step, but the other ankle turned too. I was about ten seconds away from melting into a puddle of tears when a familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb, and Glen got out of the driver’s seat.

“Ms. Kendrick?”

I looked at him, still unable to move my feet. “I-I got mugged.”

His eyes went wide as he rushed over. He helped me to the car then sped off toward the nearest police station.

“Are you hurt?” Glen asked into the rearview mirror.

“What?”

“Are you hurt? Your temple?”

I dropped my hand, not realizing I’d had my fingers pressed to the place where the mugger had kissed me. “No, I’m not hurt.”

But I had been violated. That thief had put his hands on me. His lips.

My hand went back up to my temple, rubbing the feeling of his lips away.

The last man who’d kissed me in that spot had been Dakota. For three months I’d been able to feel his lips in that spot.

The bastard thief had stolen that from me too.




“All right, Ms. Kendrick.”

“Sofia.” We’d been sitting together for nearly two hours. The officer had earned first-name privilege.

“Sofia,” the officer corrected. “I’ve got everything I need to file a report.”

He’d already told me the chance of getting anything back was slim to none. My handbag had likely already been pawned, my phone wiped and sold too.

“Here’s my card.” Aubrey slid it over to the officer. “Since Sofia’s phone was stolen, you can call me directly.”

“Okay.” He took it and tucked it into his uniform pocket.

“So what’s next?” Aubrey asked. “How will you be investigating this? Do you expect to find the guy soon?”

Apparently, Officer McClellan’s explanation had fallen on deaf ears with Aubrey. Or she just hadn’t liked his answer.