You can do this. Walk in. Order a drink. Ask for Nico. Stay calm.
If he doesn’t talk, I leave. If something feels wrong, I leave. I had a plan in place.
The bar was dim and loud enough to swallow nerves. I walked to the counter like I belonged there.
“Vodka soda,” I said.
The bartender gave me a quick look before pouring it. I took one sip and leaned slightly against the bar.
“Is Nico here?” I asked casually.
Before the bartender could answer, a voice behind me did. “I prefer when people ask me directly.”
My pulse tripped. I turned slowly. And there he was. Nico Mercier, only he wasn’t what I was expecting. I had seen him before. The night Sophie left and never returned. He was there at the meeting point. I didn’t know his name that night. He was tall, with dark hair and green eyes. He was attractive, even if there was something dangerous about him. Harmony said she had dated him, and I could see why.
Recognition flickered across his face. “I don’t forget a pretty face,” he said smoothly.
My stomach dropped. He remembered me. Which meant he remembered that night. I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“It’s been years,” I said carefully. “I was hoping you’d remember my best friend.”
And suddenly this didn’t feel like the plan anymore. Nico held my gaze for a moment longer before nodding toward the back.
“Come,” he said. “We’ll talk somewhere quieter.”
My stomach tightened. The bar suddenly felt safer than wherever he was leading me. He must have seen it on my face because his mouth curved slightly.
“I don’t bite,” he said. “Despite what people think.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. But I followed him anyway. The hallway was narrow and dim. My heels sounded too loud against the floor. He opened a door and stepped aside. Inside was a small back room. A large round table with many chairs and no windows.
He took the seat facing the door.
“Sit,” he said firmly but not completely domineering either.
I hesitated only a second before lowering myself into the chair across from him. He leaned back slightly, studying me.
“You’re nervous,” he stated.
“I’m not used to being in a backroom with a guy I don’t know,” I admitted.
He gave a short exhale that almost sounded amused.
“Despite the rumors, I’m not a bad guy,” he said. “I have a mother. A sister. I respect women.”
That caught me off guard. I forced myself to focus.
“Sophie was my best friend,” I began. “She was?—”
Nico inhaled sharply. It sounded like a hiss. Regret flashed across his face. “We never helped people that young across before. We also never agreed to take a Canadian. She was the only one. You saw the group that night.”
My chest tightened. I nodded. I saw. They were mostly illegal immigrants who were older.
“I told my boss it was a bad idea,” he said, not mentioning the name Marcel Bellerose. “He had a soft spot for the mom,” Nico continued. “Said he needed to help her escape a bad man.”
The irony sent something cold through me. My throat felt dry.
“I’m working on my master’s degree in criminology,” I said, because suddenly I needed to ground myself in something solid.