“Joseph,” she said again. “I waited for you, but you never showed.”
What? I thought. I lifted my forehead off the window and turned to see… “Dakota?” I asked.
She curtsied, grinning. “In the flesh.” She craned her neck forward and squinted at me. “What happened to your face? Did I get more sober, or did you get uglier?”
I chuckled involuntarily, and it hurt every part of me. “The two probably go hand in hand, don’t you think?”
“Usually,” she said, stepping toward me and inspecting my battered face. “What’s the other guy look like?”
“Guys,” I said. “Plural. And all prettier than me.”
“I believe it. You don’t much look like the fighting type. More of a poet. You have soft eyes and easy features.”
That amused me. Not much of the fighting type. Well, hopefully she didn’t ask too many questions and shatter that illusion. “Do you know the time?”
Dakota glanced at her watch. “A little after three,” she said.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. That meant I had until three hours to save Mel before Hephaestus came after me. Speaking of the Nephil douchebag… I thought it strange that Dakota had randomly bumped into me right after he sent me back here.
“Why are you here?” I asked, not bothering to flower my tone.
She tilted her head like an interested puppy. “To find you,” she said.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t, weirdo,” she said. “After the friendly bouncer saw me out, I crossed the street and waited at the bar next door. I thought I made it pretty clear to meet me over there and return my credit card to me. Remember that?” She held out her hand, palm up.
I cursed under my breath, tired of getting caught up in these situations—the altercation, the arrest, Hephaestus’ shop. Why couldn’t I just get to Elizabeth, torture her a little until she revealed how to find Hecate and Mel, then save my daughter?
“I don’t have it,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows.
“It’s a long story, but it’s at the county jail.”
“You were arrested?” she asked. “Wow. What did you do? Credit card theft?” She smirked.
I shook my head. “Yeah, they arrested me for stealing your credit card,” I said. “Have you seen Xander?”
“Who?”
Had I introduced her to Xander? I couldn’t remember. “Black guy. Bald. He was in the lounge earlier.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Can I borrow your phone?”
Dakota pursed her lips and shook her head. Then, without warning, she veered off the sidewalk and stepped onto the street. Once in the middle, she lay on damp asphalt and stared up at the cloudy sky. “Come join me,” she said. “I hate The Notebook, but I always wanted to try this. Come on.”
I pulled on the locked door again, rattling it. “Shit.” I walked toward the corner of the building, planning to look for another entrance down the side alley or around the back.
“Did the bartender turn out to be your Elizabeth?” she called from the road.
“I think so,” I said, turning the corner and shambling down the alley. I didn’t see any windows or doors, but I followed the side street around to the back of the establishment. A door stood atop a couple of steps and a ramp shot to the side. I figured I had found the loading dock. Using the railing, I ascended the two stairs, then tried the heavy, metal door. The handle didn’t even turn a little.
“You trying to break in?” Dakota asked.
I about jumped from my skin. “What the hell?” I asked, planting my hands on the door to find calmness.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, hopping up the two steps. She made me tired just watching her move. Dakota opened her purse and dug through her bag, fishing out a skinny box filled with picks. “Move over.” She shoved her shoulder into me, pushing me down the ramp.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you out. Again.” Her blonde hair fell into her face as she leaned over and went to work on the door. She tried to blow it from her vision, but the strands fluttered up and fell back over her eyes. “You mind helping me out?”
For a moment, I couldn’t respond or move.
She glanced at me from behind her veil of hair. “You standing in cement?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No.” I stepped toward her, reaching out my hand to sweep her hair from her face, then paused. I hadn’t really touched another woman since Callie’s death. My fingers trembled in midair, more from anticipation than fatigue. I gulped back a wad of nerves. I could throw a fireball at Hephaestus and kill Empousa without batting an eye, but when it came to touching a woman, I froze like a damn Popsicle.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Sorry,” I said, shooting my hand forward, a little too fast and eager. My finger jammed against her forehead before curling around her hair and peeling it away.
“Shit,” she said. “You trying to poke my eye out?”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, hot with embarrassment. Yet, I had her soft hair in my quivering hands—and once again, I was way too aware of how cold they were. “You okay?”
Dakota fiddled with the picks and the lock, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, biting it. The door clicked. She turned to me and beamed. “You can let go now.”
“Yeah,” I said, dropping her hair back into her face.
Running her fingers through it and pushing it back, she asked, “You want the honor?” She stepped aside, allowing me the chance to open the door.
“What if there’s an alarm?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. You just wanted in, and I obliged. You robbing it?”
“No,” I said. I hoped to break in and find any files on Elizabeth the Bartender, hopefully one with a last name—or better yet, a home address. Then I would pay her a visit. A crude plan, but I had three hours and nothing else to work off of. “I’m going to use
