He nodded. “Yes.”
“So is my mother in on this?” Although I found it hard to believe she would subject me to all this—it didn’t fit her overprotective, for-the-good-of-humanity personality—I had to ask. Also, when Santiago first appeared in my life, she’d acted like she’d just met him. Frankly, my mother was a horrible liar, so I knew she wasn’t faking.
“Yes, she knows,” he replied.
“What?” It was official. The entire world had betrayed me. But why? “You’re trying to tell me that my mother knew who you were the moment you showed up?” I asked.
“No. But…it’s complicated. You need to ask—”
“My father.” I felt my face turn a frustrated shade of red.
“Dakota, I can’t give you any information. It would be different if you weren’t my boss’s daughter, but you are. He’s given me strict instructions not to tell you anything that isn’t directly related to saving your life. Satisfying your curiosity doesn’t qualify.”
“What a jerk,” I fumed.
He ignored me and continued watching the road like a well-trained robot.
We continued up Highway 15 for about thirty minutes and then exited and jumped on a back road. We continued north, driving in a charged, uncomfortable silence. I looked at his phone sitting on the console, wondering when my father might call or if “Santiago” would let me contact my mother. Not that my parents ever bothered calling me back.
“Can you at least tell me if my mother’s safe?”
“I don’t know. My job is you. Not her.”
Job. There was that word again. My life was a mess, but he referred to it in the same impersonal way a janitor might talk about cleaning floors. At the end of the day, he could go home, pop open a cold one, and watch the game.
“Nice bedside manner there, Paolo. When can I call her?”
“You can’t.”
“I can’t ever call her?”
“Not until the situation is…resolved.”
“But, of course, you have no clue when that will be.”
“No,” he replied.
“Well, it’s still a free country, and I’m an adult.” I reached for the phone, but he pushed my hand away. He quickly popped the battery and chucked the device out the window.
What the hell? “Such impressive eco-friendly manners there, bub, but you and my father can’t keep me prisoner,” I snapped.
He nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“You mean you’re not going to argue the point?”
“What’s to argue?” he said briskly. “You can leave anytime you like. If you’re willing to accept the consequences.”
The car made a sharp turn left and then right as we wound our way up the mountain road. Funny, the day looked so clear and bright, the sky a pristine blue. The weather inside the vehicle, however, felt closer to a thunderstorm.
The eye of the rabbit hole…
“Such as?” I asked.
“Your death. Possibly mine if I don’t keep you safe.”
What? “You’re not insinuating my father would kill you. That’s absurd.”
“Is it now?” he replied.
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t. I had no clue what sort of man my father was. Come to think of it, hadn’t he met my mother because he’d been shot? Lord, he was probably some sort of gangster.
“Your father actually would kill me,” he added, “but only for one thing: touching you. However, what I meant was that if you run and these assholes really know who you are, they will track you down within a few days. I’d have to come rescue you, which would be pointless because you’d be dead already—your head shipped off to your father—but I’d come looking for you anyway. My head would follow.”
His head, too? He couldn’t be serious. “Silver linings...aren’t they just magical?”
“Crack all the jokes you want, but I guarantee the only thing that has kept you alive all these years is that those people don’t know you exist. If that veil of protection is gone, then welcome to your new fucking life.” He pointed to himself.
No. No way.
“You can’t really expect me to believe all this crap?” Not that Santi—shit—Paolo had actually told me anything other than I was in danger and my father wasn’t who I thought.
“Believe anything you like. Just don’t get in the way of my job,” he said without emotion.
Crap. So this is what it all came down to? I would get no answers, but I’d get to choose either doing everything he told me, leaving my life behind, and going into hiding; or refusing to listen to him and taking the risk that he was full of shit about me being dead in a few days. Those were my choices? Really? Really?
“Pull over,” I demanded.
“What?”
“I said pull over! I’m going to be sick.”
He pulled into a narrow turnout, and I exited the vehicle, bolting for a stand of tall pines. I leaned into one, attempting to eject the burning knots, but there was nothing to throw up since I hadn’t eaten. My last meal had been before the party the previous evening. That didn’t stop my stomach, however, from trying to relinquish the pit of despair inside.