He drops my arm, taking a step back. My hand automatically rises to give it a little rub, which Vince notices but doesn’t remark upon.
The other man approaches me, and I look at him, wondering what happened to his face. He has burn scars along the left side and down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. They wouldn’t have healed like that if they were from the fire next door; not to mention, he hadn’t seemed injured.
“Give Adrian your car keys,” Mateo says as he passes Vince. “You’re riding with me.”
Vince finally gets close to me, and as soon as he does, I throw myself into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he tells me again, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
“Please don’t let them hurt me,” I murmur against him, trying to hold back tears.
“I’m gonna do everything I can,” he promises, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Are you sure they’re gonna take us to the same place?” I ask, not at all trusting this Adrian guy.
“Yeah, we’re just gonna go home so we can sort this out. Adrian won’t act unless Mateo tells him to. Isn’t that right, Adrian?”
“Sure is,” Adrian says, easily.
Vince lets me go, but I want to hold on. I wish I could ride with him, but I know they’d never allow that.
Once Adrian gets Vince’s car keys, Vince gives me one more hug, promising he’ll see me soon, and heads toward the black Escalade Mateo already climbed inside. Adrian takes hold of my arm lightly.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” he warns, tugging me toward Vince’s car. “Mateo wants to hear what Vince has to say first, but you draw attention, I’ll drop you right here.”
I feel like we probably already drew whatever attention we were going to, but I don’t say that. I nod and climb in the passenger side seat of Vince’s car.
Adrian drops into Vince’s seat, shoving the key in the ignition and firing it up. Before he puts it in drive, he holds out his hand, saying simply, “Phone.”
It takes me a second to remember I have mine in my pocket, but I take it out and hand it over without question.
Adrian pops something into the side and slides out a tiny chip, then he dismantles it completely, removing the battery and throwing all the pieces into the back seat.
As if this is his every day, he turns on the radio, pushes a button a few times to change songs, and puts the car in drive.
I look out the window as we pass my house, and I’m sick at the thought that this could be the last time I ever see it.
Chapter Thirteen
The ride to Vince’s house is silent and brief. I guess I expected Adrian to probe—ask questions I didn’t know how to answer, try to trip me up before I have a chance to talk to Vince. He doesn’t. He just listens to classic rock and drives like he isn’t escorting me to my own doom.
When we pull up outside the black wrought iron gates, I am floored. Obviously I knew Vince didn’t worry about money, but the sprawling edifice behind the gates is more Parisian opera hall than house. Two stories of white stone sit back off the road, pretty as a picture with a royal blue roof. Three stone steps lead to the front door, thick white columns holding up a beautiful balcony overhead. In front of the enormous house there’s a circular driveway of gray-white brick, and a large fountain at the center. Mateo’s Escalade has stopped at the front of the fountain, and Adrian pulls up behind it.
“Vince lives here?” I can’t help asking.
“Yep,” Adrian verifies.
“It’s like a castle,” I say, still in awe.
“Might as well be,” he mutters, shoving open the door and climbing out.
I don’t ask what that means, too awestruck to care.
Up ahead, Vince and Mateo ascend the three steps, while I linger in the driveway, gaping at everything. Off the right is a covered patio, and I see a pool through the columns.
“Come on,” Adrian says, a hand on my back nudging me forward.
I can’t believe this is a house—people actually live here. Not even just people, but Vince.
As soon as we enter the house, I’m blown away again. The biggest chandelier I’ve ever seen hangs from the second story, with twin curved staircases. The tan and white tile floor gleams, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a luxury real estate pamphlet.
“This way,” Adrian tells me, heading left past the staircase.
We don’t make it far, as Adrian leads me to the first gleaming oak door on the right side of the wide hall.
“This place is bananas,” I tell him, in case he missed it.
He cracks a smile, but it quickly dissipates as we enter the room where Mateo and Vince are waiting.
Another huge, beautiful room, this one clearly the study. Floor to ceiling wood, with built-in shelves full of leather-bound books. There are four puffy red leather chairs that look like they belong in a gentleman’s club flanking an area rug in front of the fire place, and to the far right, an imposing desk, presumably Mateo’s.