When a long and sleek black town car pulled up outside Rockaway Nursing and Rehab, I wanted to cry with relief. D'Andre was waiting with me as well as an officer from the local 101 Precinct. The driver hopped out of the car as I jogged toward it.

"Are you Emmaline Dubois?" he asked as he headed around to open the back door.

"I am."

"Mr. Montgomery wanted me to make sure you were here before I let Mr. Dubois out of the vehicle."

D'Andre was by my side as the door opened and David blinked up at us.

"David," I greeted him, my voice wobbling with emotion.

"Had a little outing, did we?" D'Andre said and took David's other arm as he used us to leverage himself out of the car.

"I'll be right back," I told the driver. "We'll just get him inside."

David blustered. "I can walk by myself."

"That's for dayam sho," D'Andre muttered. "You walked yourself right outta this joint."

We accompanied him through the front doors. The alarm started blaring from his anklet, so we coaxed him farther in and away from the sensors. The officer went and conferred with Penny, presumably to be assured they could cancel the Silver Alert they were about to issue.

I stepped in front of David. "D'Andre's going to take you up to your room, okay? Then I'll be right up to see you."

"Okay." David smiled, all relaxed, like we all just came back from a fun afternoon at the freaking zoo.

I smiled tightly, hugged him, and headed out to the driver, scratching around in my purse for some cash. How much were you supposed to tip a guy who transported the most precious person in your life to safety?

"If you're looking to tip me," the driver said, "Mr. Montgomery already took care of it."

"Oh." I stopped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm instructed not to take it anyway. Your grandfather, is he? He's an interesting guy. I enjoyed the ride. I'm Bobby, by the way."

"Thank you, Bobby," I told him, not bothering to correct him about my relationship with David. I put out my hand, and he shook it.

"No problem," he responded with a grin. Then he gave me a card. "In case you ever need wheels. I'll be in the area for the next hour, then I'm headed into the city anyway. If you needed a ride." He headed back to the driver's side, opened the door, got in, and pulled the car away from the curb.

I was left standing there wondering how immense my owed favor was to Trystan Montgomery. I didn't like feeling indebted, but I was so grateful that if the guy was in front of me at that moment I'd hug him for an eternity and have a hard time letting go. Mostly due to aforementioned gratefulness, but also because I remembered him smelling really, really, good.

And now to add it, he was a freaking hero in my eyes.

---

As soon as I'd seen David settled, I'd gone back outside to sit on the steps outside and breathe calmly or the first time in what felt like forever. It had been less than ten hours since I'd first learned David was missing, but it felt longer. I logged in to my bank on Trystan's web browser to make sure I had funds for a hotel.

The closest option would be to stay in one of the hotels near JFK. But damn if I didn't want to stay in the city tonight. It had been years since I'd spent any time in Manhattan. After the day I'd had, I would walk toward Times Square, buy a single scalped ticket to Springsteen on Broadway, and lose myself for three hours before collapsing into a hotel bed.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I hissed out loud, straightening up as I saw my bank balance. Never mind a hotel and a show, I could take a week-long Caribbean vacation for the amount of money deposited in my account.

As soon as the shock passed, I felt the rise of immense irritation. God. I already felt in debt to him, and now it was worse. He was throwing his money around. Either he didn't value money, or I was his charity case. Both scenarios made my stomach turn.

A text popped across the top of the screen. Armand letting me know Trystan had arrived to rent my place, and I had to remind myself that while he may be overpaying, he was in fact renting my place. That part wasn't charity. Rescuing David, maybe, but I could explain away the rest of it.

"You okay out here?" D'Andre's voice made me jump. "Oops sorry, didn't mean to freak you out."

I smiled up at him, and he joined me on the top step. "Sorry. In my own world. What a day."

"What a day, indeed. So how'd you get the limo hookup?"

"Well." I blew out a breath and held up the cell phone. "That was cell phone dude's doing. Life works in mysterious ways. The most annoyingly inconvenient thing that's ever happened to me led me to "not meeting" this . . . guy, who ended up being the one to pretty much save David."

D'Andre's eyes were wide, his eyebrow cocked is disbelief.

"Believe it," I said. "David called Trystan Montgomery on my number, and Trystan somehow convinced David to stay where he was, have something to eat, and then get in a limousine to come here." I shook my head. "I honestly don't know how I'll ever repay that debt."

"Maybe it's not meant to be paid," D'Andre said thoughtfully. "I mean sometimes things have a value beyond, you know? Maybe you just pay it forward."

"I guess."

"Sounds like a good guy though. Maybe you two should actually plan to meet for real."

"Ha." I let out a nervous cackle. "One minute he's soooo . . . everything. And the next he acts like a prick. I don't know who I'm going to get. And I can already tell from all these many, many dating apps," I brandish the phone out in front of me, "that this one runs a mile from intimacy and commitment. Two things I value above everything else."

"Everything else?" D'Andre teased.

"You laugh," I said seriously, "but I'd settle for bad sex as long as I had intimacy and commitment."

"Girl, you must have dated some assholes."

"Probably," I agreed. "But mostly no one whose character's been worth settling everything else for."

"Now, I don't call myself a dating expert," D'Andre said, his voice taking on a higher pitched preaching tone. "But I'd say what that dude did for you today showed his character."

I squinted. "Don't," I complained. "I'm already crushing hard on the dude. Please don't give me more reasons to. I need less reasons."

"Well, he keeps doing shit like today? Girl, you in trouble."

The setting sun chose that moment to streak rays between the buildings. I raised my hand to shield my eyes.

"Are you clocking out?" I asked, noticing he was out of his scrubs and wearing designer-looking jeans and a lightweight jacket.

"Sure am. I'm headed into the city to see Logic." He shook his head side to side, his bright smile contagious.

"Your idol."

"You know it. I got a friend with a hookup at the club he's playing. I may get to meet him after, you know?"

My eyes widened. "That's awesome."

"You wanna go? I could get you in. I'm going with a crew. It's real. You'll love it."

I laughed. "I was thinking earlier I'd love to go to a show, but I was thinking more along the lines of Bruce Springsteen. You probably don't even know who that is."

D'Andre reeled away from me, his hand on his heart. "Baby girl. Stop it. You hurtin' me. I grew up in Jersey, yo. And that guy? Those are some lyrics right there. He may not be street, but he's talking the same shit."

"Never thought of it that way. David was a fan. Is a fan. I don't know. Anyway, I grew up knowing all his music."

"Well it's not Springsteen, but you'll have a good time. You in?"

"D'Andre, be serious." I laugh and look down at myself, straightening my jean clad legs out in front of me. "I'm not dressed for a club."

"Look. I ain't hittin' on you. But you hot. Just, like, put some makeup on or some shit."

"Stop it. Tell me about your YouTube thing."

He leaned back on his elbows. "Been rappin' and posting my lyrics. On Instagram too. I have followers, not many, but it's been cool. I just like need a big break, you know? Like if I get mentioned or picked up by another YouTuber it'd go big you know?"

I thought about my little phone hacker friend and his YouTube channel, though I didn't know much about what he actually did. While I thought about it, I dug out his card. "This guy." I showed it to D'Andre. "Know of this guy?"

"Xanderr? Shit, yeah. He's a gamer but, like, he's pretty famous."

"Is he?" He had seemed pretty cocky, but then I wasn't around a lot of the current crop of teenagers. And not famous enough not to be stuffed into economy class next to me. Then again, that was probably his parents doing.

"Wait, you know him?" D'Andre asked.

"Not really. Well. A bit, I suppose."

"Whoa." D'Andre leaned back and looked at me with increasing respect. "Would you send him a link to my channel?" he asked. "Or . . . man, he lives in New York, right? Does he want to come out tonight and see Logic? I can hook him up too. Then I could meet him."

"He's young. Like sixteen or something. He probably can't get into a club."

"For real? Damn."

"I can ask."

"Call him. Call him, right now." D'Andre elbowed me. "Pleeeease?"

"Fine." I rolled my eyes with a smile and dialed the number on the card.

It rang twice.

"Al?" I asked. "Alex?"

"Who is this?"

"It's, uh, Emmy." Silence. "From the plane. With the phone . . . situation." I winced.

There was a muffled sound, then an expletive, then a deep breath.

"Emmy, girl. Sweet Emmy. How are you?" His voice came out calm and deep like he was pretending to be super relaxed.

I laughed silently. "Great, actually. How are you?"

"Can't complain. Back with the old man in the Big Apple. You get your phone sitch sorted?"

"Nope. Still have that guy's phone."

"Dude. You must have sweet talked him."

"Ha. Well, anyway, the reason I called is I have this friend, D'Andre. He's a musician. A rapper."

D'Andre nodded approvingly.

"A poet," I added, and D'Andre put a hand to his chest in thanks.

"Yeah?"

"He has a YouTube channel. The only other person I know who has one is you, and I don't know how these things work, but I thought maybe you all should connect. You might like his stuff or . . . something."

"Give it to me, I'll look it up right now."

"Oh, uh sure." I gestured wildly at D'Andre. What's the link? I mouthed to him. He pulled it up on his phone, his face hopeful, and I read it out to Alex.

"Cool. Cool," Alex said. "Just gonna give it a look and listen, back in a mo."

There was silence on the phone, and I imagined him slipping on those massive earphones of his.

"He's listening right now," I told D'Andre, who jumped to his feet and paced back and forth in front of me.

"Calm down," I told him.

"I need a paper bag," he said.

After a few minutes, Alex was back. "I need to get hold of this guy."

"Oh, uh." I looked at D'Andre who had both hands covering his mouth. "He's standing right next to me. I'll give you his number."

"Extra. Put him on, will you?"

I held out the phone to D'Andre who looked at it aghast.

"He wants to talk to me?" he whispered.

I nodded.

He took the phone and cleared his throat. "This is D'Andre. Yeah, sure." He got his own phone out of his pocket and typed something into it. Then walked back and handed me Trystan's phone.

"Is this happening?" D'Andre asked me, looking nervous.

I smiled and shrugged.

The phone in his hand buzzed, and he answered, walking a few feet away along the sidewalk. It must have been good news based on the size of the grin he was wearing.

Remembering Armand's text, I decided to get hold of Trystan. Dude had some explaining to do about the price of a two-night rental in Charleston. I wanted to call him but didn't want to risk getting barked at if he was in the middle of something. Instead, I texted him to make sure he’d settled in and found clean sheets.

A response came back almost immediately.

---

Suit Monkey: Settled in fine. Thanks. How's David?

---

Can I call you? I typed. I refused to thank him via text, it was too big.

---

The phone rang immediately with an incoming call. Suit Monkey. My heart jumped to my throat as I hit "Accept."