“Oh?” I don’t understand.
“He was with me when you phoned.”
“In Seattle?” I’m confused.
“No, I’m staying at the Heathman.”
Still? Why?
“How did you find me?”
“I tracked your cell phone Anastasia.”
Oh, of course he did. How is that possible? Is it legal? Stalker, my subconscious whispers at me through the cloud of tequila that’s still floating in my brain, but somehow, because it’s him, I don’t mind.
“Do you have a jacket or a purse?”