I blink with the realization that he’s honed in on his business and only his business. “Did you hear the part where there’s a hit on my head?”
“Drop the case and the hit will go away,” he states almost matter-of-factly.
“Spoken with such confidence,” I say, “that it’s almost as if you have insider knowledge.”
“I have common sense,” he states. “I thought you did as well.”
I ignore the jab. He’s good at taking jabs. “Logan’s connected to Waters. That means you are as well. I hope you’ve insulated yourself. Because that insulation could be the difference between you living in your mansion or inside a prison. Or even life or death.”
“Drop the case,” he snaps.
“I’m sending a security team to pick you and Mom up. If you choose to stay rather than go with them, either of you, that’s your own bad decision. Make a good decision for once, Father, and if not for yourself, for Mom.” I hang up the phone and dial my mother. She doesn’t answer. I leave a message. “If you want to live, you go with the security team I’m sending to the house. Do not listen to what Dad tells you. Please be smart.” I hang up and Beckham rolls down the window next to me, clearly aware of every word of my conversation.
I dial Adrian and once again, I’m thrown into his voicemail. That’s when I toss the phone out of the window. Beckham rolls it up and when Adam glances back at me, I say, “Sorry for committing you like that.”
“I’ve already got a team on the way,” he assures me. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”
His words radiate with sincerity. It’s true that yes, he’s here for me for Adrian, but I believe I’ve also built a bond with these men. I respect them. They are my friends. Adam is my friend. This is why I add, “I need you to know, and you have a right to know, that I don’t think my father was blackmailed. I think he’s involved with Waters and if that changes things—”
“It’s doesn’t,” he says. “The closer he is to us, the more we control how much further he falls.”
“He won’t accept our protection,” I say, “but maybe my mother will.” But even as I speak that hopeful statement, I know she won’t. There’s no hope there, so I turn to where I still have some, and ask, “Anything from Adrian?”
His lips press together again, and he offers a tightly spoken, “Not yet.” He hands me another phone. “That one has your calls forwarded to it but don’t be surprised if we trade it out again.”
Rather than ask the millions of questions I have about what’s going on back at the restaurant and with the police and Logan, I accept the phone and sink back into the leather of the seat. I can’t think right now. Or rather, I can’t think of anything but Adrian, right now. And so, I do. I think of him, and I replay what happened tonight. We, he and I, hand in hand, had exited that restaurant and the police had shown up instantly, not at the front of the building, but the rear. It was a setup. We walked into a trap. And Adrian was the tiger being trapped in a cage.
But they couldn’t have known we’d go out the back door. Unless somehow, they did.
What was waiting for him on the other side of that fence?
Chapter Nine
PRI
Adrian is a tiger, a beast that is furious in battle. I saw that when he fought Deleon. And he will bite off the hand that taunts him. I repeat this in my head over and over during the ride to the airport, and until the car halts on a private runway next to a private plane. Adam exits the car and opens my door for me. I slide out and look at him. “Is he here?”
“Not yet,” he states, and I can almost feel ice encasing my heart which will surely shatter any moment.
“We have your bags on the plane,” he says. “There’s food and plenty of booze, too.”
Booze.
He thinks I’m going to need booze.
He thinks Adrian isn’t going to show up.
“I can’t leave without him.”
His jaw and eyes harden in one instant. “If I don’t get you on that plane, he’ll find me and kill me. You mean that much to him. You get that, right?”
I press my hand to my face and knots clench my belly, emotions swelling in my chest. Adam catches my hand and pulls it from my face. “This is what he wants,” he says. “You with us and safe. He’ll find you and us. Do this for him. And stop deciding he’s dead. No more of that bullshit. None of us need that. Ever.”
I inhale and breathe out, accepting the comfort and chiding in the same deserved instant. “He’s not dead,” I say. “He’ll find us.”