I thought about telling her I could come too, but I sensed she’d turn me down. We could get together later in the morning if you’d like. Jesus. She hadn’t said she wanted to get together; she’d only asked if she’d see me tomorrow.

  I would like.

  I smiled. I would like too.

  After we’d both said good night a second time, I sent a message to Press, letting him know tomorrow at ten was a go, then turned off the light on my bedside table, closed my eyes, and pictured Seraphina standing on the deck of my new house, looking out at the ocean. In my imagination, she turned around and looked me up and down like she had earlier in the day. Had her eyes been full of desire, or was I dreaming it?

  I know when I studied her, mine were. It was all I could do not to pull her into my arms and kiss her bee-stung lips, then run one hand over the swell of her breasts while I reached between her legs with the other. The way the property was positioned, the view of my deck was obscured from any other houses, not that there were any close by.

  If anyone were watching, it would have to be through a telescope. Binoculars wouldn’t be powerful enough for someone to see me strip Seraphina bare, kneel before her, and kiss my way from her breasts to her belly button, then I’d spread her legs—and her sister was missing. What was wrong with me?

  I rolled out of bed a second time and grabbed my laptop. I logged in to the software Brix had gotten from Laird Butler, the man who owned the winery and vineyards next to the Los Cab property.

  Rumor was Laird and his wife, Sorcha, had met years ago when they both worked in intelligence in the UK. Given their oldest son was at least a couple of years older than me, we were talking way back to the days of the Provisional Irish Republican Army.

  Like Brix’s parents, Laird and his wife had raised far more kids than my parents had. They’d had two—my brother, Dalton, and me. The Butlers had four boys and two girls, whereas Brix’s parents had six boys and one girl. The one girl who used to plague my thoughts daily.

  I glanced over at the time and saw it was close to midnight, and this was the first time Alex had popped into my head since this morning. Seraphina Reeve, though, had been on my mind almost constantly. When we were together, it was impossible for me to think straight, let alone think about anyone else.

  After I’d left her apartment, I thought about her all the way home, again when I took the leftover food out of my truck and when I ate it, wishing I was still with her. I’d probably dream about her too.

  Man, I had it bad, but this time, maybe it wasn’t over the wrong woman.

  I refocused on my computer and watched as the software scanned every type of social media in existence, including the platforms that had come and were already gone. First, it scoured for names. Then images. Once a confirmed match was made, the software went back and looked for other pages where Luisa Reeve had been mentioned, photos she’d appeared in, or posts where she’d been tagged.

  It would take several hours to complete, but by the time I woke in the morning, I would have a completed report, one that would comprise a chronological detail of Luisa’s presence on the internet—including things people believed had been deleted.

  When Brix first brought the software to our attention, we’d run it on all the current members of Los Caballeros and a few who no longer were—like my father and Brix’s.

  The coolest thing about it was what the program could do once the report was generated. I’d sat and watched as one click of a mouse methodically went through and deleted every existing piece of information about me. I ran it on myself again two weeks later, and there was nothing to be found, including on the dark web.

  I closed my laptop and set it on the bedside table.

  I woke with the sunrise the following morning, which at this time of the year wasn’t exactly early. If I left the house now, I’d still be able to catch decent-size waves off Pismo Beach Pier. While the water would be cold, at least in October, it hovered close to sixty degrees versus December, when it would dip into the forties.

  I pulled into the beach parking lot twenty minutes later, unsurprised to see vehicles I recognized. Press was here. Maybe Beau too. Zin was parked a few spaces down from me but must’ve arrived recently since he was standing next to his SUV, towel around his waist, putting on his wetsuit.

  “Ridge, I wondered if I’d see you here this morning,” he said when I walked over.

  I looked out at the water. “Who else is here?”

  “The usual suspects.” He dropped his towel, pulled the cord connected to the back zipper of his neoprene suit, and sat on the tailgate to put on his booties. “I heard Press is headed over to the mother’s house later.”

  “That’s right. Oh, and I ran the search-and-eradicator software on Luisa Reeve last night. I’ll forward the report to the rest of you later.”

  “What we’ve found so far isn’t good, man.”

  “I know.”

  “Vacant house. Burner phone. Smells like trafficking to me.”

  It was my first thought as well, and if it was, Luisa could be on the other side of the world by now.

  “Suit up. Let’s get out there before the groms hit the water with their newly waxed boards—the ones they picked up at the swap meet yesterday.” Zin pointed. “Look, there’s one now.”

  The shortie wetsuit was a dead giveaway of a beginner this time of year. The guy Zin pointed to wasn’t wearing booties, either. I predicted the kid would be in and out of the water in under fifteen minutes, hands and feet numb, after pissing off at least a dozen old-timers by putting himself in the wrong position for an incoming wave.

  “Fucking groms,” I heard Zin mutter as he took off down the beach, carrying his longboard over his head. “See ya out there.”

  We all lasted about an hour since the waves were crap and the water crowded.

  “Whose idea was it to show up here on a Sunday?” grumbled Beau, glaring at his older brother.

  “You could’ve stayed in bed, you pussy,” Press shot back before turning to me. “Do we have time for breakfast?”

  “I told Seraphina you’d be there around ten, so we have an hour.”

  “I’ll get a table,” I heard Cru say, who I hadn’t realized was here.

  “Were you out on the water?” I asked him.

  “Nah, I saw the waves were shit, so I didn’t bother.”

  “Smart man.”

  “That, I am. So, Huck’s or Penny’s?”

  “Huck’s,” I answered, as did everyone else.

  “Why does he bother asking?” said Beau as he pulled a hoodie over his head and stepped into his sandals.

  “He’s your best mate,” said Press.

  “Sod off,” Beau said over his shoulder to his brother as he ran to catch up with Cru.

  “Have you heard from Brix?” Zin asked.

  “Hell no,” I said, laughing.

  “Glad to hear it,” he muttered.

  “Addison is good for him,” said Press. “Did you hear he let Cru bring in the rest of the harvest?”

  Among our group of friends, Brix was the worst when it came to being a workaholic. Or he had been up until Addy was accused of murder and he’d basically walked away from the winery altogether to help exonerate her. I hoped once they were married—and I had no doubt they would be—he wouldn’t go back to working the number of hours he had been.

  “Did you hear Tryst gave him a five-thousand-acre parcel of land adjacent to his ranch in Alamos?” Zin asked as we walked to the restaurant.

  “I did. Early wedding present.”

  “I looked. There’s no more land for sale down there. Lucky bastard.”

  I agreed. Tryst’s ranch was a magical place I wished I made time to visit more often. While I loved the land I’d bought in See Canyon, if Tryst offered me a trade, I’d take it in a heartbeat. Not that he ever would.

  As for working too much, I was probably considered the biggest slacker of our crew. I worked my ass off when I needed to, but I didn’t look for something to do during the slow times of year in the wine business. Now was one of them. The growing season was over. Grapes had been harvested and crushed. There might be some bottling to do, but it would be sporadic. My plan had been to use the time to help get my house finished. Now, most of my attention was focused on finding Luisa Reeve. And on Seraphina. Mostly on Seraphina.

  I was a man obsessed, and considering it was for the second time in my life, I wondered if I should talk to someone about it. Not Brix. He deserved uninterrupted time with Addy. I wasn’t sure my dad was the best option either. Or my brother.

  Later, once we’d finished breakfast, I’d call Tryst. While he was Brix’s uncle, he’d always been a surrogate to me too.

  “Where’d you go?” Zin asked, nudging me. “I ordered you a coffee since Barb couldn’t get your attention.”

  “Sorry.” I shook my head and studied the menu, although I already knew what I’d order. As soon as Cru mentioned Huck’s, I’d been craving their Cajun omelet. It was packed with andouille sausage, shrimp, onions, and peppers, then topped with Creole sauce.

  I wondered if Seraphina liked Cajun food. “Shit,” I said under my breath.

  “What?” Zin asked.

  I shook my head a second time. “Seraphina Reeve.”

  “What about her?”

  I lowered my voice, not wanting everyone else at the table to hear me. “I spent yesterday afternoon with her.”

  “She’s hot. I’ll give you that. Kind of a bitch, though. And what was the deal with her bidding on you at the bachelor auction?”

  “She wanted to get me to help find her sister.”

  “Why didn’t she just ask?”

  “Because I wouldn’t return her phone calls.”

  “You probably had a good reason.”

  “She threatened to prosecute Brix if Los Caballeros didn’t disband.”

  I expected a different reaction from Zin when he sighed and sat back in his chair. “Not the first time William Cooley tries to sic someone on us. Won’t be the last either, unless he gets voted out. Which, by the way, I don’t see happening any time soon.”

  “Why’s he got such a hard-on about us?”

  Zin chuckled. “Cause we get away with shit. He sees himself as the lawman in these here parts, and he don’t like no vigilantes showin’ him up.”

  I laughed at Zin’s “old west” schtick. “She’s backing off.”

  “Hell, I’d hope so. It would suck pretty bad if we found her sister and she used it against us.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  Zin studied me. “I didn’t say she would. Man, you’ve got it bad. About time.”

  I didn’t need to ask what he meant. There wasn’t a person who knew me who didn’t think it was time I moved on from Alex.

  After breakfast, Press and Beau left for Seraphina’s mother’s apartment, and I went home to review the report I’d generated overnight. When I opened the document and skimmed it, I found an article pertaining to both her and her sister.

  “Drunk driver kills family of four,” the headline read. According to the article, Joseph Reeve was found to have a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit when his car veered into the opposite lane and struck another vehicle. The names of all four victims were listed, two of whom were children.

  Reeve had survived but was hospitalized with critical injuries. Farther down in the report was another article, much shorter and from almost four years after the accident. It stated Joseph Reeve had passed away from “natural causes” after remaining in a coma since the night of the accident.

  Seraphina’s comment, “I guess life got the better of him,” played over in my head. Alcoholism was prevalent in any industry whose main focus was the creation, sale, or service of liquor, including the wine business. It was especially true with my grandfather’s generation.

  As a result of what he’d experienced growing up with not one but two parents who overindulged, my own father insisted my brother and I learn how to consume alcohol responsibly—especially in the winery, where it was easy to have what amounted to glass after glass when tasting vintages to determine when to bottle. The reason there were rows of drains in any storage area, whether for barrels or bottles, was as much to allow the winemakers to spit after they tasted as it was to prevent flooding.

  Given Seraphina’s father’s BAC the night of the accident, it was hard to imagine he wasn’t an addict. Most people would’ve passed out at the level stated.

  The report mentioned other articles as well as information pulled from court documents over the legal troubles the family had following the incident. Including their home going into foreclosure.

  While I didn’t know the details of my father’s purchase of the Reeve Estate, I was surprised to learn the house wasn’t part of the transaction. I was more surprised my father hadn’t stepped in to purchase it when the family lost it. At the very minimum, I could see him allowing Mrs. Reeve, whose first name was Leah, and her two daughters to continue living in it.

  I’d call my dad and ask, but like me, he was taking much-needed time off after the busiest part of our year. He and my mother were in Australia, visiting their closest friends, the Cullens, who owned one of the oldest privately held wineries on the west coast of Australia. Any questions I had about what had happened with Joseph Reeve could wait until they returned.

  There were several pages of photos included, but as I scrolled through them, I saw none of Luisa with anyone who appeared to be a boyfriend. In fact, almost none of them were of her with men at all. In the few there were, everyone had been identified and none were named Jorge or anything close. I zoomed in on the images and took a second look.

  About halfway through the bunch, there was a photo of Luisa with four other women. They were in the bar of a restaurant I recognized. It was in downtown San Luis Obispo, and the date the photo was posted was earlier this year.

  I zoomed in again and examined the image in greater detail. In the background, two men were looking in the direction of the four women. They appeared to be studying more than admiring them. Zooming in further resulted in too much pixelization, so I decreased the amount, took a screenshot, and sent it to Press. Maybe facial recognition would turn something up. I also sent it to Snapper so he and Kick could print copies to take to the university tomorrow to show around. Finally, I printed one more copy for Seraphina.

  “Hey, Tryst,” I said when he answered my call. “Got a minute?”

  “For you? Of course.”

  “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “I am at Brix’s house. Would you like me to come to your place?”

  “I’ll come to you.”

  While the Ridge Estate was adjacent to Los Caballeros, by the time I drove through our vineyards, then theirs, fifteen minutes had passed. When I arrived, Tryst was sitting out front, on the porch. He stood when I approached, and we embraced.

  “It is colder here than at my ranch, but I prefer to be outside, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Catch me up on the search for Luisa Reeve,” he said, motioning for me to take a seat.

  I told him what we’d learned thus far and what things were still in progress.

  “I sense this is not what you wanted to discuss with me.”

  “It isn’t. Although it is related.”

  He motioned for me to proceed.

  “There are two things, actually.” I began by filling him in on what I’d read in the report earlier, including the articles about Joseph Reeve’s accident and death.

  “It was a very sad time with the loss of that family.”

  “I don’t remember hearing about it.”

  “You were at the university, and I’m sure your parents didn’t want to trouble you with news of people you didn’t know.”

  I had been at UC Davis, which was fifteen miles west of Sacramento and four hours from Paso Robles, where my parents spent the majority of their time. I would’ve been a junior in the viticulture and enology undergrad program.

  It was an intense field of study, and given I planned to get a graduate degree as well, I’d had to work hard to maintain my GPA. It made sense my parents wouldn’t have mentioned the accident to me, nor my father’s purchase of the Reeve property. Ridge acquired new vineyards on a regular basis as they became available.

  “I know you said there was more to the story regarding Ridge’s purchase of Reeve’s vineyards.”

  “I also said it is a conversation you should have with your father.”

  I smiled. “I recall. However, is this what you were referencing? Reeve’s accident?”

  “In part.”

  I smiled again. “Okay, I hear you loud and clear. Next subject.”

  Tryst had a glint in his eye similar to the woman’s I wanted to talk to him about.

  “You know I had a crush on your niece.”

  Tryst laughed out loud. “A crush, you say?”

  “Okay, an infatuation.”

  He squeezed my shoulder, then his expression turned serious. “An obsession, Noah.”

  It was rare for Tryst to use my given name, but I understood why he had.

  “I feel myself going down the same road with another woman, yet I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  “Seraphina?”

  “Yes.”

  11

  SERAPHINA

  My mother was anxious the entire time Press and Beau were in Luisa’s room.

  “Go see what they’re doing,” she hissed.

  “We know what they’re doing. They’re looking for anything that might help us find her.”

  “If there was something in her room, I would have found it.”

  I was growing weary of my mother’s attitude, particularly with her treatment of me. “I’m not the enemy, Mom. I want to find my sister.”

  “I know you do, baby. I’m sorry I’m so on edge.”

  “It’s understandable. However, I would think you’d be ecstatic to have help, given the police were ambivalent about looking for her.”

 

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