“Can I at least have my phones back?” Gabriel asks evenly. “I have a few calls of my own to make.”
She nods toward Tony.
“And our guns?” Merrick adds.
“Nice try.” Ava’s eyes rake over him again without a hint of modesty. “We’re not that good of friends… yet.” She winks.
I do my best to ignore the small army of guards—all equipped with automatic rifles—as Gabriel and I stroll along the pathway, taking in the panoramic view of the valley below and rolling hills as far as my eyes reach. Ava’s estate is a palace on top of a hill, but the retaining wall that surrounds it making it feel like a fortress. Within those walls are leggy palm trees that offer little shade, interlocking pools of various shapes and sizes, one boasting a swim-up bar while another is half-covered by an artificial cave and waterfall. A variety of cozy alcoves provide ample seating—both in the sun and sheltered beneath pavilions.
The last I saw Caleb and the Perri brothers, they were beyond the gate by the helicopter pad, in deep conversation with Farley. It seems none of Gabriel and Caleb’s security were permitted inside.
“How long are we expected to stay here?” I tug at the collar of my ruined dress. My sweat is soaking through the silk material. I’m ready to dive into the water, fully dressed.
“Until we’re feeling extra friendly?” Gabriel reaches back to graze his new stitches with his finger.
I gently swat his hand away. “Does it hurt?”
“Nothing a few pills won’t fix.” With a wry smirk, he collects my hand in his and brings the back of it to his mouth. His lips are warm and supple against my skin.
We turn down a path that takes us toward the house and the stone-clad terrace, where staff are setting a dining table with white linens and centerpieces for an elaborate meal. Ava did say she was having the kitchen prepare food for us. It’s an odd turn of events—from kidnapping at gunpoint to this—and it’s left me unsettled.
“What do you know about her? Ava, I mean.”
“Not much, beyond what we’ve heard today.” He eyes the guards. “She seems smart and she’s definitely ambitious. But it’s the kind of ambition that gets people killed, especially when they’re going up against Eduardo Velez, who’s going to feel the loss of business.”
The last thing I feel is sympathy for the Easton drug supplier. I just don’t want it to blow back on us. “Do you trust her?”
“I only trust two people: Caleb and you.”
My chest swells at that declaration. There was a time when my name didn’t make that list. “But do you think she’ll keep up her end of this deal you’ve just made?”
“We’ll know soon enough. But I’m not gonna lie, getting rid of Navarro has already solved a big problem for us. If it actually happened. She could be full of shit. I’m waiting on my PI to confirm.”
“It’s real.” The way her face paled, the way she reached for that picture. I caught a glimpse of it on my way out of the room. In it, she’s arm in arm with an older gentleman who I’m guessing was her father.
She had her own father executed. I bite back those critical words before they slip out. Gabriel and Caleb have basically announced open season on their father. It’s no different.
But Ava did it to get in deeper with her criminal world, I remind myself. Gabriel and Caleb want to get far away. There is a difference.
And Vlad Easton surely deserves what’s coming to him.
A twisted rationale, but one I can live with.
Gabriel’s phone rings. He slips it out and answers. “Yup?” His blue eyes search the premises as he listens to whoever’s on the other line—a woman, by the sounds of it. “Yeah, that’s my car, Special Agent Lewis.”
My mouth drops. “Why is Lewis calling you!” I hiss.
He shushes me with an index finger against my lips.
“I heard it was stolen out of my driveway this morning, but I didn’t have a chance to file a report. I’m out of town.” His eyebrows arch. “A bullet in my engine, you say. Gosh, whoever took it must be mixed up with dangerous people.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Of course I’ve seen Mercy. She’s right here. Do you want to say hello?” He frowns as he listens. “Why on earth would I ask someone else to pretend to be her.” He smiles as he holds out his phone. His mood is light. Now that I’m safe and my father is relatively so, he’s having fun with the FBI agent.
Nerves flutter in my stomach as I collect it. “Hello?”
“Mercy Wheeler?” A familiar, smooth voice asks.
“Yes,” I say warily.
“My name is Special Agent Kennedy Lewis. I’ve been trying to reach you for days to confirm some details about last Wednesday night’s plane explosion. When can we talk in person?”