I watch him stroll across the restaurant. In the corner booth is a woman in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. I’m terrible with guessing ages, but she’s beautiful and strangely familiar.
I’m not sure why. I shouldn’t know anyone from this town.
Yet, I feel like I know her.
I’ve seen her before.
I don’t recognize her from the compound where I was held, prisoner. At least, I don’t think she was there.
She smiles and laughs at Lincoln. The girl is beautiful, gorgeous, and probably won beauty pageants and could have been a model.
Beside her are two little ones.
No, she wasn’t at the compound.
She glances up at me and smiles warmly. I feel like I’ve been caught staring and avert my gaze. I punch in Papa’s cell phone and wait for him to pick it up.
“Lincoln, what the hell do you want?” Papa’s voice rattles through the phone.
How does he know Lincoln?
“Papa, it’s me, Nicole,” I say. When I use the name he prefers, a shudder rips through me, the only name he will call me by.
“Nicole, dear. Where are you? Why are you keeping company with slime like Lincoln? Is that who Dante converses with?”
I rub my forehead, frustrated that Papa doesn’t take two seconds to worry about me so much as to even ask how I’ve been. Did he even plan on coming to rescue me or leave me to rot and die with Dante?
“Papa, I need you to send a car to pick me up. I’m at Lumberjack Shack.”
He snorts. “Of course, my dear. I will send Vance over soon. Why the hell is my princess with men like that? Those men who Dante consorts with are dangerous, Nicole. Do not trust them.”
Before I can say anything further, the line goes dead. Papa ends the call without so much as a goodbye.
I sigh and climb off the stool, pattering with wet shoes over to Lincoln, and I presume his family.
“Everything okay? Get ahold of who you need?” Lincoln asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I say, and hand him his phone.
The woman smiles at Lincoln and hands over the girl to, I presume, her husband. She climbs out of the booth and gently guides my arm as she leads me away.
“Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is soft and gentle, friendly. Her smile appears genuine, and her eyes glint with something I don’t quite recognize. Concern? Worry? I’m not sure I’ve ever recognized that expression without it being etched in fear.
She glances down at my sopping shoes. They’re not mine, especially given my attire. “Do you need help?” she offers. “I’m Harper.”
I heed Papa’s warning. These people aren’t to be trusted.
“I’m all right. Your husband, he let me borrow his phone. My family will be here soon to pick me up.” I point toward the door. “I can wait outside.”
Maybe it would be better if I waited outside and put some distance between these folks. They look kind, but appearances can be deceiving. I learned that the hard way from Dante.
He charmed a baby right into me.
Not that I worry Lincoln or Harper would do the same. They seem happy, pleasant, and maybe in another life, we could have been friends.
But not in this life.
And certainly not today.