Rye
RyeThe Café des Roules sat in a dark corner in a dark alleyway in Rabat, Morocco—the perfect setting for my dark mood. I signaled the waiter for another café creme and stretched my legs under the little round marble-topped table. It had a sugar packet crammed under one leg to keep it stable, but it didn"t work. I kept jostling it and sloshing coffee into the little saucer. I wasn"t built on a Moroccan scale. I belonged back in Texas, where the streets were wide and the buildings sky-high.
But I was here in Rabat. Again. For the third time in the past six months. Looking for Lauren Blakewell by way of her mother, Glee.
We McAllisters are nothing if not stubborn bastards.
Six months ago, Lauren Blakewell had disappeared without a trace. The only lead I had was that Glee had skipped o
