I put the name of the restaurant into my GPS on my phone, and get a location. It's in Kendall, a suburb about 10 miles southwest from downtown Miami. From the website that pops up on my phone, it looks like it's a Columbian restaurant.

I have no idea what parking is like in that area, so I decide to take an Uber.

I text Martina as I step into the elevator.

I just got a call from Angelica.

Martina replies, Seriously? She's okay?

I don't know. I'm going to meet her now at some restaurant.

The text comes back immediately.

Not by yourself, you're not. Wait for me.

Oh for heaven's sake. I start to text her back to stay at her desk, but before I can hit Send she's coming around the corner, high heels clacking on the polished floor. I push the door open button on the elevator and hold it for her.

"Jenny," she says, as she walks past the reception desk, "we have a client emergency. I'm not sure what time we'll get back to the office, so please send all Ms. Jones' calls to voice mail unless it's urgent. If it is, tell them we'll get right back to them, and reach out to me on my cell. Okay?

"Sure, Martina," Jenny says, her eyes wide. And I'm grateful that for once Dylan isn't lounging around the reception area flirting with Jenny and sticking his nose into places it doesn't belong.

"You really don't have to do this," I say as Martina steps into the elevator with me.

"Like I would let you go meet up with Angelica on your own? Hadley, if someone grabbed her, this could be a trap."

"I don't think so. There are a lot of easier ways to get to me if someone wanted to. Besides, how would they know I didn't just call Max?"

"Why aren't you calling Max?"

"Angelica asked me not to, practically begged me not to."

"Hadley, you don't even know her."

"I'll probably still call him. I just want to get there and see what the situation is first."

"I'm going to call Gabe now."

"Don't. Let's just go to the restaurant and see what she wants. We can always call Gabe or Max once we get there, especially if anything looks off. Right now, I just want to see what Angelica has to say about why she's been missing for three days, and why she wanted to talk to me in the first place."

All of that is true. But I'm also thinking who knows what Angelica might know about the relationship between Gino and Max and Max's father. It can't hurt to make friends with her, and that will never happen if I call Max when she specifically asked me not to.

"Okay," Martina says, as we walk up to the waiting Uber and get in. "How about if I just text Gabe that we have an idea where Angelica might be and we're checking it out and will let him know if we find her."

"Fine," I tell her. "I guess that can't hurt. Then at least he'll be standing by if something does go wrong, and you can just text him the name of the restaurant."

When we get there I feel a moment of nerves as the Uber driver pulls away, and am second-guessing my decision not to bring my car after all.

We walk in, and find the place is pretty crowded, which I guess isn't that surprising, since it is lunchtime. It's colorful inside, and the aroma is amazing as servers navigate their way between tables holding large trays of food. Everyone seems to be speaking in Spanish, and I'm really happy Martina is here since she's fluent. I remember her telling that her father is from Venezuela and her mother is Cuban-American. She grew up in a bilingual household.

She explains to the hostess who approaches to seat us that we're meeting someone here, and we walk through the two rooms looking for Angelica. I'm beginning to think this has all been a wild goose chase, or maybe it really is a trap, and I'm starting to wonder if I made a mistake not calling Max.

Then I see her sitting on the patio at a table, across from a man who appears to be holding her hand. His back is to me, so I can't tell if I've ever seen him before.

As soon as we go through the back doors she spots us, waves us over.

"See?" I say to Martina. "There was nothing to worry about. It's perfectly safe here."

As we get closer the man turns to look at us and I realize with a start that it's the artist whose work Max launched at the gallery, Benadicto Rojas Ortiz. And he indeed is holding Angelica's hand.

"Hadley," she says, rising up partly from her seat. "You came."

Martina and I sit at the remaining two chaise when she gestures toward them.

"You remember the artist from the gallery event - Benadicto Rojas Ortiz."

"Of course," I say. "This is my good friend Martina. We work together, and she was with me when you called."

"Pleased to meet you, Martina," Benadicto says is his soft low voice, "and to see you again, Hadley," he adds, nodding to me.

"Angelica," I say, "what's going on here? Where have you been? Max has been really worried about you."

She lifts her palms in a gesture of apology. "I would have texted him not to worry, but I lost my phone."

"You left it in the restroom at the club. We thought you'd been abducted. Max has people looking for you all over Miami."

"Oh, he's not going to be happy with me, is he?"

"Well," I say, "I'm sure he'll be glad you're safe."

"Bento and I are in love," she says, joy radiating from her face. "Bento" is looking at her like a love-sick puppy, so it's apparently mutual.

"So you've been with him all weekend?"

"Of course," she says, as if it should be obvious.

"Why didn't you answer my text on Saturday? We were supposed to have lunch."

"We can have lunch now," she says, then frowns. "I am sorry. Without my phone, I didn't have your number, and I didn't want to call Max and ask him."

"Why not?" I ask her. "Why the secrecy?"

"Because Uncle Gino will never allow us to be together," she explains, and grips Bento's hand more tightly. "He intends to choose a husband for me, and I'm just supposed go along with that plan."

From the look on her face, I'm guessing Angelica has no intention of marrying whatever guy Gino picks out for her.

"I told Uncle Gino I wanted to come back to Miami and work with Max so I could learn the gallery business. I was an art history major, you know." She smiles at Bento. "But that's not the real reason for coming here - I could have done that in New York. I wanted to be with Bento."

"Well, you are 21," I point out. "So your uncle can't tell you who to date."

She laughs. She actually laughs. "In my family," she explains, "age does not matter. My uncle thinks he is the boss of everyone, and unfortunately it's true. If he doesn't want me to be with Bento, he will make things . . . very difficult for me. And for him as well," she says, gesturing toward Bento. "I don't want that."

"So why get me involved?" I ask her, still confused.

"Because you love Max. If you didn't, you wouldn't have been ready to kill him when you thought he was having sex with me. So you understand how I feel about Bento, and you will help us figure out a way to be together, no matter what my uncle wants."

I'm just thinking, oh great. Just what I need. To be pulled into a family dispute between Angelica and Gino, one of the most powerful mafia dons in New York city.

Martina has been pretty much silent until now. But when the server comes to our table, she orders a number of items in Spanish.

"So I ordered some appetizers. We might as well eat," she says, when I stare at her.

I get the feeling Martina is looking at today's events like a K-drama she can't tear herself away from.

A man wearing an apron approaches our table and says something low in a quiet voice to Bento, and he nods and gets up abruptly.

"I need to leave," he says to Angelica. "I'll see you soon."

"What's wrong?" she says, her perfect features perplexed.

"I'll explain later," he says, and then he's gone, following the waiter around the side of the building. Moments later we hear a car start.

"Something must be wrong," Angelica says, "or Bento would never leave so suddenly."

Our server comes back to the table with one of the large trays and begins unloading plates. There's a platter of empanadas, and other dishes I don't recognize. It all looks amazing, and the half a bagel I had for breakfast this morning is already a distant memory.

"That was incredibly fast," I say, glancing over at Martina. "You only ordered a few minutes ago."

"Oh," Angelica laughs, "that's the order Bento and I put in earlier. Please, enjoy."

Then she looks up, just past me, at someone standing behind me.

"Ooops," she says.

I don't need to turn around to know who's there. I can sense him even before he speaks.