last year for more than ten million dollars.
And now he was choosing to back her in her own little endeavor. It was an endeavor that he’d had to talk her into. He insisted that she had the smarts to run a place like this, but only after all of the moving parts had been set into place.
Most girls that date semi-wealthy guys get jewelry and cars, she thought as she walked to the soon-to-be lounge area. Me…I got a bar. Not a bad deal, I guess.
She did feel a little out of her depth most of the time when she thought about the road ahead. She’d actually be in charge of a place. She’d be running things and making decisions. There was also a degree of guilt to it as well. She felt the opportunity had been handed to her for no real reason other than she had happened to end up in a relationship with a guy that knew how to get businesses started. As a result, she was aware that there were many things she had to sacrifice and things she simply allowed Sam to get away with. She never questioned his late nights out, always buying the stories that he was in meetings or with contractors, wining and dining them. She’d been a part of some of those meetings, so she knew it was true—most of the time.
She also felt that she had to show her appreciation as often as she could. That meant not nagging when she didn’t see him for several days. It meant not getting too up in arms when he expected certain things in the bedroom. It meant not getting pissy because despite buying her a bar and trusting her to run it, the whole idea of marriage had not been mentioned a single time. Danielle was pretty sure Sam had no intentions of getting married. And for now, she was fine with that, so she saw no reason to argue about it.
Besides…what did she have to complain about? She’d finally met a guy who treated her like royalty—when he was around—and she seemed to be on a path to easily earned success.
It’s because most things that seem too good to be true usually are, she thought.
When she reached the room that was going to be the lounge area, she pulled the digital blueprints up on her phone. She made indications where the speakers could go and also made a note about potentially adding some sort of tinted window along the back wall. It was in doing things like this that she felt the dream of it all becoming a reality. Somehow, this was all really happening to her.
“Hey…”
She turned and saw Sam standing in the framed doorway. He was smiling at her and looking at her with the hungry expression he often shot her way when he was feeling frisky.
“Hey yourself,” she said.
“I know it seems like I just brushed you off,” he said. “But really…these next few weeks, all I’m really going to need from you are a few signatures.”
“You’re working me too hard,” she joked.
“I fully intended for your training with the newbie at the bar to take longer. It’s not my fault we ended up hiring a bartending genius.” He approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She had to look up into his eyes but it always made her feel safe for some odd reason; it made her feel like this man would always literally watch over her.
“Let’s grab lunch later today,” Sam said. “Something simple. Pizza and beer.”
“Sounds good.”
“And tomorrow…what do you say we go somewhere. A beach…South Carolina or somewhere like that.”
“Really? That seems spontaneous and very much like a burden to all of this work around us. In other words…it sounds nothing like you.”
“I know. But I’ve been getting so wrapped up in this project and…I realize I’ve been neglecting you. So I want to make it up to you.”
“Sam, you’re giving me my own business. That’s more than enough.”
“Fine. I’ll be selfish about it then. I want to get away from all of this and be naked and alone with you near the ocean. That sound better?”
“It does, actually.”
“Good. So go to the bar, check in on the newbie. I’ll pick you up for lunch around noon.”
She kissed him and although he was clearly rushing it, the sentiment of everything he had just said did not escape her. She knew it was hard for him to be emotional and sincere. She rarely saw that side of him so when she did, she dared not question it.
Danielle walked back through the mostly open spaces of the old brick building that would soon be her bar-slash-lounge. It was hard to think of it as hers, but that was very much the case.
When she stepped outside, the sun seemed brighter than it had when she had gone in. She smiled, still trying to make sense of everything her life had become. She thought of Chloe again and made the decision to call her in the next few days. Everything else in her life was going so well, she may as well try repairing the tense relationship between her and Chloe, too.
She got into her car and headed back to Sam’s other bar—the bar he had hired her to work in six months ago. She was so distracted by the thought of going away with him for the weekend that she didn’t notice the car parked on the side of the street as it inched out into traffic behind her.
If she had noticed it, she might have recognized the driver, though she hadn’t seen him in a very long time.
Still, did a daughter ever truly forget what the face of her father looked like?
CHAPTER FIVE
When Chloe and Moulton arrived at Garcia’s office, Director Johnson was already there, waiting for them. It appeared that he and Garcia had been looking through case files; Garcia had a few pulled up on his desktop screen while Johnson had a small pile of printouts in front of him.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Johnson said. “We’ve got a case out in Virginia—a small town on the other side of Fredericksburg, in an upscale neighborhood. And I should probably start with saying that the victim’s family has some very powerful political friends. That’s why we’ve been called in. Well, that and the gruesome nature of the death.”
As Chloe took a seat at the small table in the back of Garcia’s office, she did her best not to seem too obvious that she was trying to create some distance between herself and Moulton. She knew that she was probably glowing, beaming from the way the night and the morning had gone. She wasn’t sure how Johnson might react to any kind of relationship between them and she honestly didn’t want to test it.
“What are we looking at?” Chloe asked.
“Four days ago, a husband came home from work to find his wife dead,” Garcia said. “But it was more than that. She had not only been murdered, but brutally so. There were multiple stab wounds—sixteen by the coroner’s count. The crime scene was a mess…blood everywhere. It’s unlike anything the local PD has ever seen.”
He slid a folder over to Chloe with a look of warning on his face. Chloe took it and opened it slowly. She peered inside, saw just a flash of the crime scene photo, and then closed it just as quickly. Based on her one glimpse alone, it looked more like a slaughterhouse than a murder scene.
“Who is the victim’s family friends with?” Moulton asked. “You said someone in politics, right?”
“I’d really rather not give out that information,” Johnson said. “We don’t want it to seem
