SKY'S ON FIRE TONIGHT.

The missing persons flyer cut him off. There was a ringing in his ear because these things didn't really happen in Providence Peak, right? Sure, it wasn't like crime wasn't real. I mean, he'd seen his mother's bloody body on the floor when he was a mere kid, so of course he knew there was crime in this city, but... he'd spoken to Mari what--a year ago, maybe?

"Are you serious?" A mix of shock and confusion took over his features as his dark orbs moved from the paper in his hands, to the woman in front of him. "I--I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say, I..." Her question still remained unanswered, and Jacob rushed to try and give her something back. Even if it were Mari's things. "Yeah... yeah, uh... she left a scarf and a pair of gloves in my car last winter?" Shit. Mari had been so inconsistent around him, and Jacob was still recovering from the break up with Dilan... he couldn't give her what he wanted to give.

Or maybe, he didn't want for their sex to be just that. He didn't want to use her to tame his pain.

"How... long has she been missing?" / @alesolcno

While his shock and mild distress shouldn't have been a comfort to the Arizona native, it was the first relief she'd felt in talking to someone. Maybe their relationship hadn't been entirely positive but the fact that he didn't immediately flare up with something negative was really nice.

"Yes, sorry," the brunette swallowed thickly, "I didn't mean to spring this on you like this..." It was a lie, she had, because texting everything would've gotten her nowhere. "I don't want to ruin anyone's day, you know— I'm just... desperate."

The offered gloves and scarf were taken and examined, and Ale didn't care how crazy she looked, she brought the items up to her face and tried to breathe them in. There was still a faint scent of her sister on the scarf and some parts of the photographer threatened to come undone.

Words were spoken smoothly, no confidence lost within his rasp, despite how her lingering gaze caused a breath to hitch in his throat. His hands were clasped atop the table, knuckles ghosting white from the tight grip he held. Would she like his fingers curled around her throat?

He shifted in the booth, the uncomfortable pressure building in his lap daring to take away from the papers before them. How selfish was he? Mouth hung open slightly as he swept over her features, pausing on her mouth. Low places. Hands in her hair. He was the most selfish man that had ever lived, and yet, he couldn't help himself.

How did anyone sit across from her without their head spinning? "Help yourself," he managed to choke out, eyes fixated on the way her throat bobbed between the gulps of water. There was no hesitation in fingers curling around the newly returned cup. It had nothing to do with the water within, but he lifted it slowly to his mouth, took one long drink, and lowered it with a satisfied sigh.

It wasn't the same as tasting her, but his tongue dabbed at the corner of his mouth to swipe away a droplet of water that had settled there. "I can tell," he echoed, a raspy laugh sounding from deep within his throat. Most people found it difficult to read the stone faced Brooklyn Native, but her? She wasn't most people.

"And what's written all over me?" He leaned forward, captivated entirely by her. The buzzing of the diner had faded entirely, or perhaps the pounding in every pulse point in his body had drowned it all out.

Missing sister. Geolocation. Motel. Of all three thoughts, the latter was the very thing that had him at the edge of his seat, desperate to unload every ounce of lust into her until their bodies tapped out. How much would it take, he wondered.

What little focus he'd mustered had slipped the moment her perfume hit him, familiar and not all the same. He silently danced between scooting closer to the edge of the seat, or staying close, but the woman etched a few inches between them before he'd worked through a single thought.

Missing sister. Geolocation.

Nodding, the agent choked down the fire and lifted his arm, mindful of the closeness she'd brought on once more and adding to it as his arm fell along the back of the booth. "I can do a lot of things," he muttered lowly, eyes falling to her mouth before shifting back towards the array of red dots.

Outside of the occasional outliers, there were a few clusters to indicate that her sister had her favorite spots, none of which made much sense on paper. He feared that it would make even less sense when plugged into his GPS, but like the desire that had flooded his veins, he kept those worries at bay.

A task made easy by her closeness.

Her smirk, however faint, caused his heart to sputter in beat. A flush of color rushed to his cheeks, her mention of being in his lap nearing causing a desperate sound of need to spill. "I thought we'd save that for the motel," he challenged with his own toothy grin beaming back at her.

Carefully, Khalil lifted from the seat, the uncomfortable pressure in his lap having doubled in the brief time he'd been close to her. Every step was torture, but he stared down at the dimly illuminated screen of his phone and plugged it in the coordinates she'd pointed out to him.

Step by step, he paused at the doorway, holding it open for her to exit. He welcomed the cool breeze, but every inch of him still felt as if it'd been set ablaze. "Any idea why your sister would be going to a place outside of the city?" He rounded the front of his car, stopping at the passenger side door, one hand at the handle, the other flashing his phone screen towards her.

The few seconds of reprieve had slowed his throbbing heart, but the moment she was close, every ounce of levelheadedness evaded him.

Missing Sister. Geolocation. Fucking motel.

Would it be hard and slow, or fast and wild?

Not much was being said in exchange anymore. Their words had become less and less as the tension built and had become palpable, of which the photographer had begun to mostly reply with expressions. A look, a smile, something more curious, etc.

When Khalil had asked her what was written all over him, the brunette leaned forward and reached across the table. Her hand found his and was much smaller when she turned his to be palm up and smoothed her own against his. The need for something tactile could no longer have been restrained, dark eyes sized up his fingers and her lips parted, but then her hand traveled up the underside of his forearm where she gripped him a little.

"You're an outlier," was her initial answer. "You're broken and haunted," Ale tacked on but left out the part 'like me'. "You've made a lot of bad choices and feel like your life is completely fucked up." The photographer's brow lifted in challenge, daring him to tell her she was wrong.

As moments passed the figure of the Arizona native had started to feel tight and wound up. That feeling only doubled with Khalil beside her, the overt manliness of him forced her legs apart slightly to give relief to throbbing ardor.

When his arm landed on the back of the booth behind her, it damn near felt like an invitation to slither over to his side and nestle in. But at that point Ale knew she couldn't behave herself any longer and wouldn't be able to withstand the confines of the restaurant and social acceptabilities.

Either the tension needed to be broken somehow or they needed to leave before things became entirely too indecent.

Dark eyes met his and she slid over until she was flush against the coffee shop owner, her hand laying flat on his thigh. It was up to him to move and they head out or she would be bold. "I'm far too impulsive to wait for a motel. Especially since you've promised yourself to be a man of many talents."

Not only had her voice taken on a husky, lower register but her gaze had darkened. Khalil had moved just before her touch journeyed to his groin. A heavy breath was released and Ale followed him out, her hand smoothed along his waist as she passed him at the door.

"Uhh," it was taking a moment to find coherency through the fog of desire, "none, really. I haven't been successful on getting any decent information on her movements."

Murder? It was a laughable accusation and yet, he bit back the amusement. He was a lot of things too, but heartless? He saw the desperation in her darkened gaze, saw the pain and exhaustion written over her features.

"For fucks sake," he mouthed, head shaking as he nipped harshly at his bottom lip. It was the metallic taste that settled on his tongue that told him he'd broken skin. It was only him that would be stolen from and accused of murder after the fact. No one else had that kind of luck. "We never talked about ourselves. We didn't really talk about anything."

Mariana had sought out comfort through physical touch and he'd done the same. If it came to anything past that, outside of the occasional mention of leaving town, there wasn't much he could tell anyone.

Seeing the woman's name illuminate on his phone had made him angry, but not once had he ever wished harm upon her, even if she hadn't given two shits about him. "She ran off with some of my stuff. Why wouldn't I jump at the chance for answers?" He'd gone with the hope of at least knowing where his things had gone. Anything past that would have been a bonus to being so bold.

A scoff rolled off his tongue harshly, his eyes slamming closed as he worked through a momentary rush of frustration. How many times did he have to tell her that he had nothing to do with the woman's disappearance? "I don't know you, but even if I did, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." He spoke with his eyes closed, but soon after the words had left him, they slowly blinked open. "Just like with her. Even after she left, I just wanted to know why."

There was no anger in his tone, no frustration to be found. It was a raspy hum of defeat because in the end, perhaps he'd never know. Wherever she was, whatever she had done, clearly it was all a mystery.

"Hell, you want me to call for you? Get the dogs out here? Do whatever the hell you want because nothing I'm saying to you is clicking." A muscle flexed in his jaw. How would he explain it to the mother's of his children? How would he explain it Ken? The hammering in his chest and the pounding at his temples... it was enough of a reason for him to empty the liquor cabinet.

A breath bobbed in his throat. What did she want from him? A truth he couldn't spill because he hadn't done it? A lie that would put him behind bars? "If something did happen to her, it wasn't me." He was willing to do whatever it took to prove such a confession true. A lie detector test? A home search? Property search? He'd submit to whatever she wanted, despite the chaos that would inevitable unfold.

"So, I don't know. I don't know if you should be mourning her. I don't know where she is or what happened, but what I do know, is that I'm sorry that you're out here. I don't know what else you want me to say."

On the precipice of a breaking point, the tears that stung at her eyes had begun their descent down her cheeks after a couple of blinks. A sob choked in her throat. As angry with this man as Ale was there was also the torment of defeat, of yet another dead end.

Of course, this was if she were to take this suspicious stranger at his word.

"You think that's how this works?" A surge of fury rushed her forward a few steps, the messy, blurry eyes only added to the wild rage that flew out of her. "I'm pretty fucking sure Bundy proclaimed his innocence to the very moment of his fucking execution. I'm just supposed to fucking believe you because you fucking say so?"

The photographer then paced away from Atlas on his own porch, madness taking over her as she gestured wildly with her range of emotions as she went on. "Oh, I don't care about all your evidence or how fucking shady I come across, you've gotta believe me when I say I didn't do anything..." It was a mocking display, and when she turned to face him it was with disdain in her gaze. "You're a real piece of fucking work, aren't you?"

Part of her wanted to shout about how it was no wonder her sister went running from him. Not only was he a selfish, soulless prick but he also lack sensitivity to the situation. It was natural that people would jump on the defensive, but she'd read enough about interrogations and how detectives read people to learn what to look out for.

It was the guilty that usually couldn't stop talking and over-explained things.

Liars got defensive.

Then she started nodding rapidly. Local law enforcement had had enough of her and the consistent badgering, they'd also warned her several times about taking matters into her own hands but she was desperate and they weren't doing enough.

To them she was just another easily cast aside. She wasn't white or squeaky clean, so Mariana Solano wasn't important.

In fact, no one seemed to give a damn but her.

"I'm not handing you a script, motherfucker. I just want you to be honest. You've been acting sus as fuck since the moment I contacted you, and you want me to just back off because I'm making you uncomfortable?" If he had been forthcoming and caring from the start and hadn't been running from her and this conversation then maybe the Arizona native wouldn't be on his doorstep or suspecting him of the person behind her sister's disappearance.

"Why wouldn't you just have talked to me at the start? I get that she wronged you, or you believe that she did, there's no proof she's done anything to you, but do you have no fucking care in your entire body?"

Not only had Atlas admitted to a sexual relationship with Mari, one that had gone on awhile judging by the red dots, but there had to be some level of connection and care for something like that.

There was almost no way she could believe otherwise.

Their friendship over time had always been centered on something carnal, and she certainly considered the man more than that outside of satiating each other's sexual appetites. Conversation between them had never been difficult and his company had always been pleasurable regardless of the sex.

However, tonight was about one thing only.

Daniel had received the memo and met her request accordingly.

"I'm glad you had that. Sounds like a great way to ring in the New Year," she admitted, almost a little jealous. All she'd gotten was a steamy kiss with a stranger.

"Thank you, appreciate that." Abel leaned in and the closer he got to the woman he noted just how good she smelled. Whether it was perfume, lotion, or hair products, maybe even a combination, Abel enjoyed it. "Ah, I didn't think you were spaced out. Just thought that intense stare into your phone was a recipe or a fight with your boyfriend."

Maybe Abel was fishing a little bit. It was pointless, though. Even if he and Ayla had separated, engagement all but gone, he still hadn't had enough time to consider himself available. "Oh, it's work stuff. At this time of night?"

Usually that was a text to one or two people, and if she talked herself out of that then she went for a run or ran the batteries out on her vibrator.

"You think I would text fight my boyfriend?" That put a smirk on her lips. Even if she wondered if she looked angry or upset for him to assume such. "Nah," head shook only once and the photographer turned to face him more fully, "I'd call his ass up and give him hell."

At the mention of time, the brunette suddenly wondered what part of the night they were in. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was night but not close enough to midnight to call it late. "Are you one of those early bed timers? It's just email, so likely only something they'll see if they decide to check. Nothing too intrusive."

Why did she even explain that to a stranger?

California had been her corner of the world to run when Baton Rouge was known to her as heartbreak city. There had been no expectations in the move. She'd been so broken up about her departure from the nationally recognized chef that she'd only wanted to bury herself in blankets and rum.

And then came Alejandra. The funny, sweet, incredibly attractive woman who offered a shoulder to lean on and needed one herself. It was the late night chats and spilled laughter from wine (or whatever liquor was available) stained lips that had eased them over the threshold of their heartbreak and into a happier place. A place that Ver had lingered in up until they'd amicably called it quits.

"I am. It's been hell getting here, but I am." No lies, but a part of that happiness is a direct result from the photographer — the woman who'd turned her sadness into a free flowing river of pure bliss. "Are you?" A muscle flexed in her jaw as she echoed the question, her dark orbs full of hope and sprinkled with hesitation.

She wanted to know the answer — wanted it to be yes, but would it sting? And if it did, what the hell did that say about her?

Thankfully, though the claws in her mind had latched onto her selfishness, she lifted her chin and shook her head. "I've been wanting to try them, but I've held off. I think I'm afraid that it's just another one of those times where the books are good, but on screen, it doesn't measure up." The mystery and thrill of a who done it was the kind of excitement she needed in life. If it was someone else's drama, she could manage.

As for her business route, that was another area she lacked full confidence in. A deep blush settled atop her cheekbones. A compliment was one thing, but a compliment from someone like Ale? Someone who'd dreamed it up alongside her? It was enough to stir the butterflies in her stomach and to cause a nervous, almost childish laugh to spill easily off her tongue. "Thank you. Really, it means a lot to hear that." Especially considering the hit to what confidence she'd built up.

Numbers were numbers. They could be fixed.

"Enough about me though. What about you? Tell me something." It was demanding in a sense that, while years had passed and things had surely changed, there was still a sense of familiarity she couldn't kick.

Another laugh, this one far less awkward, echoed off the other's throaty sound of raw amusement. "You'd think so, but some things stayed the same." Less chaos, but the city had it's fair share of questionable happenings.

Stolen glances would be reserved for another time, because the baker had found it nearly impossible to fully peel her gaze from the other woman. "I wanted you to see this place. It's not exactly what I dreamed up back then, but I think it turned out even better." In that moment, she realized that Ale had been the missing piece of the bakery's puzzle. After all, she'd been on the other side of those dreams, rooting Verda on and setting the foundation for the future. This future.

Head fell to the side and her bottom lip was captured between her teeth. "They aren't wrong when they say some things never change," she challenged beneath a smirk. It felt like an impossible task, but she managed to tear her eyes off the other just long enough to dip into the back where various pieces of kitchen equipment awaited.

"I remember. You were the best taste tester I ever had." As in, she couldn't remember ever offering something for the woman to try that she hadn't liked. Then again, maybe Ale had been too kind to tell her otherwise. Another compliment caused another flush to rise on her skin. "Not too big. We've got four people that rotate in the kitchen and one front end worker that I'm promoting to manager soon."

As for the question that followed, a breath caught in her throat. She had considered a second location, but how could she continue to do so when she hadn't even made it above the profit margin on this one? A fact she still hadn't come to terms with. "I still feel like I'm finding my footing with this location some days, but hey, who knows what the future could hold?" A restaurant was pushing it, but a food truck had also been nothing more than a dream at one time. "Think you'd be down for being a taste tester if I ever changed my mind?"

Verda did a double take of the newly forged closeness and smiled softly at the comfort it brought and everything after was mindless. She only stepped away to grab a fresh pan and oil, every move mindless, attention still on the other. "Engaged," she hummed, having missed that when the woman stopped by. Then again, she hadn't been checking for wedding or engagement rings as she battled the boiling beneath her skin.

The dough she'd prepped was flattened beneath a rolling pin and after, small circles were carved out. Lokma — one of her favorites to make. "She came by. I almost didn't recognize her, but then it clicked. Don't worry, I played friendly. Mostly." She beamed a smile towards the brunette, a devilish sparkle in her eye. As much as she'd loathed the other for what she'd done, she wouldn't play with fire unless provoked. "How do you feel about it?"

Inevitably, Ale's stomach dropped to the floor when the answer that she had wanted to hear had come ringing out, and despite that the smile on the brunette's face was instantaneous.

"Good," voice almost breathless as she attempted to pick herself back up internally, "that's all I've ever wanted for you."

Somehow, it'd not been thought through that Verda would return the question to her. The baker was kindhearted and would naturally want to know, but maybe Ale couldn't understand how her torment wasn't written all over her.

In no way could she appear as though she'd been sleeping well, not drinking herself to oblivion, nor abstaining from mindnumbing sexual encounters.

Without a doubt Ale was a mess.

No light beamed from her eyes, only emptiness.

The photographer was a walking cry for help and her gaze flickered away and unattached from that of the baker's. This meeting wasn't supposed to be about her and the last thing Ale wanted to do was release this darkness and let it seep out of her. Verda wasn't someone that should be touched by the grimness that had taken over her life.

At first, Ale only shook her head, slowly. Tears stung at her eyes and it took any ounce of strength to will them to not roll down her cheeks. It was the classic case of someone asking how you were when you felt as though your world was falling apart and then falling to pieces.

A cliché? No, she could be that in front of her.

"Uhhh," it came out shaky and the brunette still had to steady herself and blink away the pain and fear that blurred her vision, "no. I'm not... happy." Then her hand waved it off, and Ale forced a smile on her face because that would exert her to stop crying before she really let go. "But we're not here for that."

Before her ex could respond Ale made quick work of moving on. It was like she was standing under this giant snowbank, and if she moved one inch in any direction it would all come crashing down and bury her. She couldn't stay on that, couldn't let the levee break...

One inch and the whole thing comes down.

"Nothing ever rightly compares to the magic of a book. No show or movie would ever measure up," the forced smile had begun to morph into something softer and more friendly, fingers gingerly dabbed under her eyes, "as long as you accept that then you can get through any show." It seemed simple, but Ale knew watching and feeling the disappointment would be a different experience.

In not wanting to drown Verda with her pride and astonishment of her ex accomplishing her goals, bigger and better than what had been dreamed up, the Arizona native laid a hand over that broken thing beating in her chest.

To the question there were so many things she could have said. Ale could have gone on about her own success with her art in photography and television, but instead she could only talk about the one thing that had been consuming her for the last year and a half.

The disappearance of Mariana Solano.

"My sister's gone missing," she said quietly, gaze cast down, as though it were something shameful to admit. "Came out here to Providence Peak a few years ago and I stopped hearing from her a year and a half ago. So, I came out here looking for her and I've—" That was when her throat tightened, choked with emotion and her lack of success in finding and helping the one person in the world that meant the absolute most to her. "Well, nothing... there's been nothing."

At saying just that much it wasn't likely her anxiety would allow her to focus or think about anything else. It was almost mindless the way she followed Verda and listened to her quietly, as though she needed the strength of another to lead and guide her. She smiled at her beautiful ex, finding those senses of adoration and happiness for Verda as she made moves around her kitchen somewhere in the turmoil. Part of her wanted to shoot a message to Daniel, ask him to meet her at her apartment. Another part of her thought of the man that would drive his brokenness into her, each thrust something of solidarity.

Instead, she found her way through the hazy aftermath of the forest fire, eyes wild with the horrors of the experience.

"It's amazing and you should be incredibly happy with that," Ale did her best to sound supportive despite the feeling of her legs weakening and barely able to hold her broken self up. "This is a dream realized and you're fucking incredible, Ver. Does no one tell you that?"

She always had.

In fact, it was as though she'd never been able to say it enough.

"You'll grow. I have no doubts that you'll grow if that's what you want." It all just depended on that. On what Verda wanted for her life and future. For the baker it seemed it had all come together— the bakery, the house, the wife.

What was missing?

"You know you can always count on me for tasting." If she were still around and hadn't confronted anyone else that would possibly put her six feet under. Plane tickets were easy if Ale could make it past Mari.

The conversation drifting to Ayla wasn't near as difficult as mentioning her purpose in Providence Peak, but it turned her over just as much as seeing the baker happy. "I don't know how to feel about it," the photographer commented as she watched her ex move about her kitchen with grace and an innateness that allowed Ale to believe she was about to snack on something incredible. "You know— I don't really know what to do with the confrontation of seeing your ex moved on and living a life that had once been talked about intimately between us." Which could have maybe spoken to Verda as well.

"You don't know me." It was a childish counter, but his voice carried like that of an angry grown man. Whatever she had on paper, whatever the information said, it was a piece of a story that he hadn't found too difficult to believe. "I don't know what she's like. I thought I did, but turns out, I didn't know her at all."

What he thought he'd known about Mariana had been nothing more than an assumption. In her defense, and quite frankly, his own, they'd never spent much time trying to get to know one another. The only layers they'd cared about getting beneath was clothing. Anything more was a stretch for what they'd signed up for.

Dark hues rolled, but he leaned closer, drinking in the cluster of dots that he could only assume signified his place. No fucking wonder she'd shown up with a fire under her. "I'm not lying." It was a matter of fact. "We slept together. That was it." A part of him had cared for her, but that part had been tainted by betrayal.

"And I'm not denying it," he added with a huff before he straightened. He thought about the pack of cigarettes stashed somewhere in the junk drawer in the kitchen, a nasty habit he'd only ever leaned into when drinking. Seeing as he couldn't afford to touch the bottle, he'd skip the booze and go straight to them.

Even without knowing the woman, the fire within her was burning hot. Her sharp point hadn't gone unnoticed, but he hadn't given it a second thought. "I hope if you go knocking on someone else's door, you're at least smarter about it." He wasn't the type to hurt her, but who the hell was to say everyone would be so patient?

The rise and dip of her voice made muscles twitch in his tightened jaw. He wasn't going to lay a hand on her, but he wasn't confident that she wouldn't take her shot if it came. "I didn't know," he partially growled through gritted teeth. His assumption had been that she'd pawned his shit and left, or left and then did it in another city.

He'd maintain his innocence, no matter how hard she pushed, because it was the truth. Not even the close proximity would cause his confidence to falter. "We were hooking up. A lot," he paused, gaze dropping to the sheet where the cluster of dots confirmed his statement, "and one day, we were supposed to meet up and she told me she'd be running late and asked me to pick up food. So, I did and when I got back to my place, I knew she'd been there already."

Some of the things she'd taken had been in the open, but one of his most prized possessions had been hidden in his bedroom in a spot he'd made the mistake of showing her. "I tried calling, texting. I didn't believe it at first."

Confusion, anger, frustration, worry... he'd gone through every stage of grief. "You can search every inch of this place if you want, but there's nothing here to find, because I didn't do anything to her."

In fact, it was his quick and ready defense that had Ale so hot on him as a suspect. She was convinced this was something a guilty person would do. "Seems more like it turned out that she didn't know you at all. Had no idea what was coming with you."

This was a story told time and time again. All one had to do was watch any number of those murder documentaries to see a repetitive story with a few details changed here and there.

"Clearly that was not it. The amount of times she was here," the photographer shook the paper with all the red on it at him, "the way you jumped at the chance to meet me at that café..."

The way he didn't give a fuck at the fact that Mari was missing.

While his quip would make sense if tensions weren't so high, because it was incredibly foolish of Ale to run off to someone's house in the middle of the woods and accuse them of harming your sister, but all she could do was narrow a dark, heated gaze at him. "What— you hope something happens to me too? I'm sure that would make you feel a lot more comfortable if the person asking all about town about someone you had to do with the disappearance of just fucking vanished, huh?"

What made this all worse was that she saw glimpses of children at this man's house. Clearly he had kids. Daughters, it appeared with the few toys she'd seen.

If the adrenaline wasn't pumping so hard then maybe Ale would feel the sickness in her gut, the fear coursing through her veins.

When he seemed to brace himself for something, the brunette visibly flinched. Ale was tough, could handle herself in most situations, but she also knew when she was outmatched. Knees don't bend backwards was something she repeated in her head.

"I'm not searching around any part of this place. I don't wanna end up in a hole somewhere and buried like the rest of your victims." It was irrational and she knew it, there was no proof other than it being very clear that Atlas and Mari had spent quite a bit of time together. The thing was, in her head, all that rang was that he admitted there was a motive.

Mari had taken something of his. Something valuable. Which seemed to be something she was learning her older sister did. But, still— Atlas admitted to motive.

"The people that are going to be out here searching are the police," she confirmed, phone now in hand as though she were going to call them. Maybe just Khalil first to get his opinion on this. He seemed to know a lot about how all this worked. Police stuff.

"Just tell me... tell me what happened, what you did. I deserve to know what happened to my sister," the ache of loss tightened her throat and strained her words, her plea, and tears stung at her eyes, "please. I just need to know. Do you know what it's like to feel hope that she's still out there or wonder if you should be mourning her?"

Unsure of how Ale would feel hearing it, she didn't want to give too much more detail about her relationship with Abel. Sure, her ex hated her, but Ayla knew hearing about Ayla being engaged would have made her feel a certain way. A way she had no business thinking about.

It felt weird sharing this seemingly major life update with Ale, until it didn’t. Not when they hadn’t seen each other in ten years. It made perfect sense when they had missed out on a chunk of each other’s lives, Ayla sometimes finding herself making up a life for Ale that she knew the other woman deserved. A successful career, someone who treated her right and uplifted her…happiness.

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken quietly, words that she was sure fell on deaf ears a decade ago. Two words that had only ever honestly been spoken by Ayla to Remi and Ale. Two words that she was sure had been blocked out by Ale’s anger all those years ago, and likely now as she felt history repeating itself.

Ale had come here for an answer to one question, and yet Ayla found herself suppressing the need to finally give a real explanation for why things had ended how they did between them. Over the years, she had thought about it so often that sometimes she felt like the decision haunted her. Even more so, not giving the other woman, her once best friend, the explanation she deserved. At that point though, the publicist’s decision was based on fear – it was only later that she fully came to terms with the complexities behind why ending their relationship felt like the right thing to do. Ale deserved better than what Ayla could ever give her.

Instead of expanding further, she allowed a few moments of silence before looking over at her ex again. “So why are you here? I figured you were visiting Mari.” It was the only real explanation that would help her make sense of her presence in town. It was that, or god was real and was punishing her for the hurt she had caused.

It was the fact that if her own best friend, someone who'd been her closest ally in life since childhood, could betray her then anyone could. That was something that had stuck with the photographer.

This world was only kind to those that took and pushed their way through.

Could she or would she be forgiving? Sure, plenty of time had passed, and the emotions were no longer the same. They'd both moved on with their lives. What Ayla had done, though, was permanently implant a fear within Ale that if she got too close to someone she'd get burned.

"Congratulations," the Arizona native muttered, even meaning it despite how much of a snap comment it may have sounded. "Looks like you two are doing well." Arms folded across her chest as her gaze panned up and around to take in the Claret Park home. "When's the, uhh... wedding date?"

It had been hard enough to photograph Verda's wedding, Ale would not be doing another exes. Not that she assumed Ayla would ask, but that was for sure something she couldn't handle.

Not with every other part of her life in some form of turmoil.

Work, surprisingly, was the only thing still going along untainted.

"Sorry?" Brow lifted, confusion soon crossed her features. "That you're engaged and living a happy little life in middle America?" A dry laugh spilled out and the brunette shook her head. It seemed such an absurd thing to say. She'd made it, had a good and cushy life, something they'd always dreamed of after growing up from humble and unstable beginnings.

One of her hands rubbed the outside of her arm until the question posed to her forced her to still. Somehow she was unmoving even though a revelation akin to a truck hitting her knocked the wind out of her.

Wildly she stepped forward, intense stress gripped at every edge of Ale, "wait— you knew Mari was here?"

How many times was her boat going to get rocked like she was traveling the North Sea?

The brunette sucked in a breath and was trying to find words, a question, anything as her brain nearly had a meltdown.

"You saw her? Talked to her? When? Was it recent?" The questions scrambled off her tongue in quick fire succession, not a breath or moment between them.

Although it was still cold outside, at least the snow had given Providence Peak a small break, so he was able to take Nabi out to the dog park to have some fun. He'd also texted Mari, someone he'd gone out on a few dates with last year to come and pick up the scarf and gloves she'd left in his car the last time they'd seen each other. He'd taken a few weeks to text her and get a reply, but was glad they'd managed to set up a place to meet.

As he held onto the small bag with one hand, he tossed the frisbee for his highly affectionate and energetic beagle to go fetch. When someone approached them, Jake adjusted his sunglasses over his eyes first, greeting the woman in question, before averting his gaze towards her... and realizing he wasn't talking to Mari at all.

"Oof... so sorry. I thought you were someone else." Just in time, Nabi came running towards him, bringing the frisbee. "That's my girl." He smiled, crouching to scratch behind her ears, then threw the Frisbee again. "Which one is yours?" He asked his companion.

Once more, like she'd done with Atlas, Ale pretended to be her sister and texted Handsome Jake back with an agreement to meet at the dog park. This didn't strike her as someone that would have much information to give on her sister, but maybe the things he was returning would.

It took her a while, a stroll around the park, before Ale was sure that she'd found who she was supposed to meet. The way he was dressed, how put together and well off he seemed struck her as Mari's type.

"Are you Jake?" Not wanting to be rude, she smiled, but the photographer wanted to cut right to the chase. "You thought I was..." The brunette wet her lips, anticipation doubled as she readied herself to read his response. "Mari? Mariana Solano?"

The resemblance was there. Not carbon copies, but definitely sisters. While he greeted the little beagle that had run up to him with a frisbee, the brunette used the time to pull a folded missing persons flyer from her bag. The pooch was cute but Ale didn't care about that right then.

Under different circumstances, ones without a missing sister, he wondered what made the woman before him tick. No amount of studying her features was going to give him any sort of answer, and yet, he tried anyway. Her dark hues gave nothing away, but he found his gaze landing on her mouth time and time again as if every answer awaited him on her tongue.

A surprisingly steady hand lifted and fingers brushed at his freshly groomed beard in thought. What did he want? His stomach tightened in anticipation. The commitment he'd had at New Years no longer existed due to the combination of his honesty and the lack thereof. There was a tug in his chest, a faint warning that this was his chance to do something right — a chance to right a few wrongs.

"I wouldn't need a drop." The husky confession floated smoothly off his lips. When it came to right and wrong, he'd never known the difference. Head fell to the side as if he were contemplating, but he'd made up his mind the moment her perfectly toned frame had slid into the other side of the booth. He needed reprieve and she needed the same. Anything less would have been a disservice to the both of them.

The agent swallowed harshly, choking down the fire that had clawed it's way up. He leaned forward, arms crossing atop the table, his voice dropping low, eyes fixed on her as if they weren't sitting in a buzzing diner full of others. "Yes." A barely there nod aided his one worded, but confident response.

He could do both and in the end, still right wrongs. Screwing the tension out was still a form of help, even if it came unconventional to some. No strings, no emotions. For once, what someone wanted from him, he could deliver without the fear of falling short.

The intensity in his brown orbs softened, but only momentarily. By every definition of the sense, he was fucked up, but he kept it hidden beneath tailored suits and a falsely carried confidence that most didn't question. "Because you're fucked up too?" The question ghosted off his lips without thought, but he held his front, despite the flush of heat he felt creeping atop his cheek bones. Amongst all three options, the latter had the greatest appeal and his fingers clenched tighter at the thought of her hair between them.

Heat worked through his veins like a wildfire, spreading to every inch of him with only one solution being capable of putting it out. A sigh of ghosted from his lips as he slid into her side of the booth, her frame unforgiving against his own. "Lucky you, I can help with that." He offered a half smile, his focus remaining on the red dots. Being in her proximity and catching her gaze, or worse, allowing his own to drop to her mouth would have ceased what little process they were attempting to make.

Khalil felt her eyes on him, but past that, he felt the warmth of her breath at his jaw. It took every ounce of will power to keep his hands atop the table and not allow to fall between her thighs, even if the back booth offered an shred of privacy that would've been enough to release her tension at least.

A breath was forced from his lungs. He peered at the newly forged distance between and only after did he brave the feat of finding her gaze. Beneath her determination was a gorgeous woman with her own demons. "I'm not sure, but I could plug it into my phone and figure it out." Coordinates weren't so difficult to follow, but with a foggy mind and stomach full of desire, they were a little less clear.

"Right now?" Rather than argue, a game he knew he'd lose in a heartbeat, he gave a nod and shifted to pull his wallet from his pocket. From within, he pinched a couple of bills and tossed them atop the table for the water he'd sipped on. Free, sure, but he'd occupied the table long enough. "I'll drive."

Something churned in her belly when Khalil confirmed he wouldn't need a touch of alcohol to put his hands on her. Even more, a jolt of need surged through her entire body, forcing the photographer to shift as wanton eyes held his with his rasped confession. He wanted her and suddenly she had to force her legs to cross under the table, to pinch her desire.

With a head filling with lust it was difficult to focus on the task at hand, at the papers with dots and possible leads on them, because all Ale could think of was how big and sturdy he must look under that nice suit he wore tailored to his large frame. Instead of the brunette's interest being on clusters of red here and there, the opportunity to assuage her desire to know his stamina was the most imminent to her.

Glistening, freshly moistened lips parted to release a quiet and shaky sigh. Pulse banging in her chest like the motel headboard she imagined banging against the wall if they were to race off to their release.

Without an ask for permission, the Arizona native reached across the table to wrap her hand around his water and pull it to herself. She gulped down two swallows and willed the throb in her neck and between her thighs to settle down. A playful smile took to her lips as her gaze cast down away from Khalil's, rested on the table between them, almost shy or blushing if someone didn't know her any better. The water was passed back and the photographer sucked in a steadying breath.

"You can tell?" At first she only glanced at him through lashes with a single coat of mascara, then her chin lifted and Ale once again tried to read the man across from her. "Is it written all over me like it's written all over you?" Maybe it wasn't, it could've just been something they recognized in each other because they saw it any time they looked into a mirror.

That— haunted darkness.

It was too difficult to think with Khalil right next to her, their legs flush against each other. When all she wanted right then was for their limbs to be tangled and to hear him grunting, growling, and moaning— right, right, the red dots indicating where her sister had frequented most in her last weeks and days.

Nothing should take precedence over that.

Yet, all Ale wanted was to not think for a while. To not worry and feel the terrifying possibility. To feel anything other than the pain that weighed her down from moment to moment.

Why was their no switch to just turn everything off?

Or, maybe there was, and it was the man she saw swallow thickly beside her.

"Okay, yeah— can you do that?" Once more she found herself leaning closer to him and that strong arm. It was so tempting to smooth her hand around that bicep that made his shirt a little taut, to get a glimpse of just how strong he was. Ale cleared her throat and forced her eyes up his profile, a little smile flickering on her lips as the air grew thicker between them.

Was it her or was it getting harder to breathe?

"Yes, right now," the brunette answered and felt him graze her as he shifted to pull his wallet out. A moan damn near spilled from her lips, but Ale attempted to push through the fog and shifted over to get out from the booth until she was flush against his solid body. "Okay," she said to his comment about driving and smirked a little.

As Ale inquired about his holiday festivities, Daniel leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on her lips with an undeniable intensity. "Christmas was… uneventful if I'm being honest," he confessed, his tone dripping with suggestion. "But New Year's? Ran into some old friends, more fun than I anticipated," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And how bout you? What did you get into?"

Following Ale's lead towards the bedroom, Daniel's lips curled into a seductive smile as he closed the distance between them. "If not?" he purred an echo, his breath hot against her ear as he savored the anticipation of what was to come.

This was a booty call.

The time for sustenance and replenishment would come later. All the photographer wanted was comfort and release. Pleasure could actually take a backseat, but with the survivalist the brunette knew it wouldn't have to. Their history of being lovers had been why she'd been so confident in sending that invite that brought him to her door.

Already, only minutes into his visit, there was no disappointment. As much as she wasn't interested in chatting, at least not yet, Daniel didn't seem to be either. The heat and wanton in his gaze was as obvious as hers.

In fact, Ale could assume that this was inevitable since their reunion months ago.

"Old friends, huh?" A glance over her shoulder so she could catch a glimpse of the curly topped male following her to her bedroom, somehow she could actually see the suggestion. "How much fun?"

Verda tore her gaze away from Ale long enough to do a once over of the bakery. Some days it felt like boss energy, other days felt as if it were all slipping from her grasp. "If I think about it too much, I'll probably get emotional." It was the combination of the journey she'd ridden out to get there and the reminder of the conversations the both of them had shared years earlier.

A quiet laugh echoed off the whistle that fell from Ale's lips, the woman's wink causing the baker's smile to double in size. Her ex's honesty wasn't surprising, but a twist of concern knotted in her chest. "A bit of a mess?" A brow lifted, her curiosity piqued.

Teeth raked over her bottom lip as she called back to the times she had sought out a sense of drunken comfort. Could things have ended differently if she had been around the whole time? "I get it though. I found myself in a similar place before this whole marriage thing," she admitted with a shallow breath into her lungs.

Married women weren't supposed to think back on their past, but some parts of it weren't so easily forgotten. Especially the parts that had healed her from the inside out. California had been her best attempt at distance, but what she'd found there in Alejandra had been more than she could've ever asked for.

"Harlan Coben has been the go-to lately, but I've also been reading books on business. It's been on my mind for awhile, but I'm thinking about going back to college for my business degree. I figured if I'm going to run this place, I should know how to do it properly," she mused, passion flowing through her tone as her gaze held steady on the woman she couldn't take her eyes off of.

She blamed the familiarity, but a part of her feared that if she looked away, even for a second, the other would disappear.

"Oh," she started, a vertical crease forming between her brows as she shuffled through her memory. How could she think of a single thing she'd saw when excitement beamed at her from pretty brown eyes? "One time, I watched a guy walk straight into that glass door." Against every instinct, she panned away from the other long enough to point towards the building across the street. "And another time, I watched a bird bully a sandwich away from a woman."

Both stories seemed lackluster by some of the fun she recall them sharing, but she looked onwards for some sign of approval or amusement from the other.

The compliment wasn't lost on her, but the clarification of pride nearly knocked her off her feet. "I'm happy you're here to see it." It made everything feel that much more full circle than it already had. Verda reached out, her fingers curling softly around the woman's wrist where she offered a gentle squeeze. Her skin was warm to the touch and as comforting as it had always been, but after a few short seconds, she dropped her hold and cleared the thickness from her throat.

Her own gaze lit up as she nodded. "Hope you're hungry, because I can't show you around and not offer you samples. Plus, I think I remember what your favorites were and I just so happen to have plenty." Was it because she'd worked on a fresh batch a little bit earlier? Maybe.

Verda's hand brushed against the dip of the woman's back as she stepped towards the double swinging doors that led towards the back. It was brief, but her heat had settled in her fingertips before spreading to every inch of her.

In a matter of a couple steps and one left turn, they'd reached the very kitchen that had become somewhat of a second home to her. "And here we are. When I picked this place, it already had a lot of equipment, but I had to replace a few things and add some of my own." Once more, she store her gaze away from Ale long enough to sweep over the room before dark hues fell back on the woman.

"So, are you hungry or what?" For a moment, she wavered on mentioning Ayla. Did the other know she was around? Was it any of the baker's business? In the end, their policy had always been honesty. "Ayla's in town," she added, that same vertical crease returning, this time forged by concern rather than confusion. "I just thought you should know if you didn't already."

If for one second the baker had answered that question in the negative, then Ale wasn't sure she could stop herself from trying to swoop in. What they'd had was special, and perhaps their relationship had served its purpose, it just wasn't easy to let go of someone that had helped you heal and move on.

Of someone she'd felt a special intimacy with.

They had share dreams and future plans. That wasn't just some fling. What they'd had was substantial.

So much so that when she'd walked into a wedding venue with her equipment, Ale found herself with the urge to object.

She bit her tongue so hard it drew blood.

Clearly her forthcoming nature had caused some worry and the last thing the photographer wanted was to be responsible for lines in this woman's perfect face. It was easy to move past and ignore, something she'd done a lot of since she and Verda had broken apart. While it was a mutual split, something they'd agreed on, nothing had been quite the same since.

Maybe that was due to looking for Ayla and the baker in everyone she'd meet.

Which could be something to do with this undeniable attraction she feels toward Khalil. He's so incredibly different from what she's known.

"I've never read him but I have seen his shows on Netflix. Been wondering if they're worth checking out." Most of the time the brunette couldn't really focus or be still long enough to get through an entire episode. There was so much tension, stress, and worry clouding every moment of consciousness. "I feel like you're a natural at business," Ale complimented but found herself smiling and swelling with pride again at Verda really making moves in her life. "If you do go back I think you'll be great at it."

It was hard to peel her eyes and attention away from the baker to look out the window as Verda explained some things she'd witnessed. Of course not her sister or anyone chasing a woman. Nothing suspicious came up. A good thing by all means just something that was another negative to whatever remaining hope she had left.

"You've got yourself a racy corner. I suppose I should've expected things to be a bit different here than from LA." A little laugh had bubbled up her throat and she shook her head with how brazen people could be. Not that they hadn't fallen victim to some public PDA here and there, something that had always been missing in the relationship she'd had with Ayla.

"Thanks for inviting me and letting me see how well you've done with yourself. It's inspiring what you've accomplished." It was just like yesterday, or felt like it, when they'd been sharing a pillow and spilling our dreams as their sated bodies rested and their sleepy gazes stayed locked on each other.

When it came to her own business Ale had been successful but the trajectory she'd been on had come to a halt the moment she knew something was up with Mari. She had to give up everything and move to The Rockies.

"I'm always hungry," she smirked and maybe her gaze gave off a familiar heat smoldering somewhere in the back, but it was meant for jokes and nothing more. They'd each moved on with their lives. "So lets see the place and snack at the same time. You know I've always been a big fan of your cooking."

The tour was fun in that she got to follow the bakery owner to the back, to the kitchen where she got to see where the magic happened. The things Verda had done in her truck and now here had made her a successful businesswoman. She was that good. "It looks awesome," she said, her dark eyes panning about and taking in the space. Even the pad of her index finger smoothed along some surfaces and equipment. "Do you have a big staff? And plans on expanding or a second location? Maybe a Turkish restaurant..."

It was a play on the fact that Verda's wife was a successful restauranteur and it seemed logical to her that it could be the direction her ex went.

"Yes, please, feed me." A big smile formed and she closed some of the distance that had been created between the two of them while she took it all in.

The happy expression faltered at the mention of her ex and former best friend. Yes, she knew Ayla was in town. Apparently she actually lived here and for some years. "I know," Ale answered, much quieter and less enthused. "I ran into her at that Silk Road place when we were both picking up food." Then she stewed over it for a while and eventually found Ayla's address and went to confront her. "She said she's been living here a while. Is engaged to some man..." The gesture of her hand was flippant.

"Missing? What? No. She left." It was a joke, wasn't it? A cruel, well played joke, or it was another attempt at swiping a few more dollars from beneath his roof. He glanced back at the closed door, thankful that his children were with their mothers and even more thankful that his wife-to-be was elsewhere all the same.

He studied the woman's features, his own softening at the resemblance to a woman he'd thought he knew. It hadn't been love, hadn't been anywhere near it, but to have been understood had been equally as important to him.

A cold laugh echoed into the chilly air around them. "Maybe you didn't know your own sister as well as you thought. Especially if you don't think she wouldn't go ghost." He ignored the animal reference, but his jaw had clenched in response. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't the type to hurt a woman.

Not even the stupid breathing technique he preached his to his children was enough to slow his rapidly beating heart. He watched as she pulled at papers, as if she had an undeniable piece of proof. Sure enough, the male stumbled back at a step, his focus entirely on the clustered dots.

Fingers curled tightly into the already battered material, the edges crumbled even more as he attempted to make heads or tails of what he was seeing. After rotating it not once, but twice, it clicked. His address, those dots... it made sense.

Slowly, the male tore his dark hues from the paper, but rather than look directly at her, his line of sight dropped to her pointed finger. "You show up to my place," the construction worker started, "in the middle of nowhere," he added, gaze finally lifting to meet hers, "and accuse me of doing something to your sister and you don't even bring someone with you?"

It was unbelievable and as a man of two daughters, potentially another on the way, he couldn't wrap his mind around it. "Relax, I didn't hurt your sister and I'm not going to hurt you either. If you really wanna know, we were hooking up. A lot more than I even realized according to these dots." He slowly extended his arm, offering the papers back to her.

"So no. I didn't feed her to the wolves." It was answer enough, wasn't it?

What she wanted most was for people to stop saying that Mariana had every right to run off and away from her life. All these bad signs that didn't add up didn't make her sister a runaway.

Why did no one care when a brown woman went missing without a trace?

"What did you fucking do to her? You're not remotely convincing... the evidence on this paper doesn't fucking lie. You act like you barely knew her, spent any time with her, like she didn't matter." The papers were further thrust his direction. He needed to take a closer look so that she could see it dawn on him that he was caught, there was no lying his way out of cold hard facts.

The papers were crumpled in his hands even further as he examined the proof of Mari being here on this property, with him. It didn't matter. Ale had spent time at the FedEx shop and made copies. Something she'd learned in this investigation was to have backups. "She's been here a lot. You can't deny that." A finger thrust in his direction, accusation still heavy as he seemed to finally realize he was caught.

Was that a threat?

"I can handle myself." Even if he took a step back, the brunette was only moving forward. If this visit had cost her everything, then so be it, she'd go down getting answers. "Plus, like I said, someone knows where I am and I'm recording this." See, she could lie and make threats too.

Frustration took over and the photographer practically ripped the papers from his grasp. "Relax? Do you not fucking get it? MY SISTER IS MISSING!" What more did he need? The shout had caused birds from a nearby tree to take off in flight, startled by the outburst. "Right, right, because you've been so damn trusting and forthcoming already?" Brunette head shook. "What I wanna know is where she is. What you did to her, with her."

A scoff scratched the back of her throat and Ale reeled back just a little in disbelief. Dark eyes rolled and she was still only charging forward. One step closer, likely not menacing to a man of his size, but she wasn't going to be written off.

When a voice spoke up near her, the brunette looked at the man and she was sure her lips parted. He was handsome, had a bit of charm to him, and Ale almost responded with something she shouldn't say to a stranger.

I wouldn't mind you invading my space.

"Umm, no, go ahead, and... grab that," she said slowly, dark gaze hanging onto his handsome features for a moment before glancing back at her phone when another ping had distracted her. Going a step further, the Arizona native moved back a little so he didn't feel weird about reaching in.