Six black SUVs are lined up in a row. I hesitate, lingering, not sure which to choose. I don’t even know where the keys are kept. I have my passport, I have cash, I have clothes—but suddenly the entire endeavor seems insane.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I look over and spot Elise. She’s wearing her poolside clothes: gauzy coverup, bandana over her head, big black sunglasses. She saunters toward me in flip-flops and the guard glares at her but says nothing. She acts like he doesn’t exist.
“Out for a drive,” I say, feeling extremely lame.
She gestures at my bag. “Packed like that? If I didn’t know you better, I’d guess you were running away.”
I glance at the guard and he’s studying me very intently, no doubt kicking himself for not noticing the damn bag. Poor, stupid bastard. Casso doesn’t necessarily hire men for their brains, but more for their willingness to follow orders and get violent for money.
“I’m not running,” I say, and when Elise frowns at my obvious lie, I decide to tell her the truth. “I’m going home to Mexico.”
The guard takes a few steps toward the house but Elise holds up a hand, halting him. She glances in his direction. “Don’t stop and don’t move. Do you understand?”
“Ma’am,” he says nervously. “I have to report this.”
“Then go report it, but go very slowly.”
He hesitates, but decides it’s better not to argue. He walks toward the main house. But he does it at a leisurely pace.
Elise turns back to me. “Explain. Quickly.”
“My father knows something about what happened ten years ago. Federov, the Russian, his son’s the one that tried to kill Fynn. His father’s the one that died with my brother in an explosion. Those things are connected, and if I can understand what’s putting it all together then maybe I can fix this.” Or something like that. I’m not even sure what the hell I’m doing if I’m honest, but I feel so strongly that it’s the right thing.
Elise digests that. She stares at me, not speaking. “Casso’s going to hate you,” she says softly. “If you leave right now and go back to Mexico, he’s going to be so angry.”
“I know that. Believe me, I know. I’ll suffer the consequences when it’s time but I think I need to do this. I have to talk to Papa, but I can’t do it over the phone. I need to see him, face to face.”
Elise nods and sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re doing this for him, right?”
“Yes,” I say and stick with the truth by adding, “and for myself.”
“All right then. For honesty, I’ll let you go.” She points toward a gray metal box tacked to the wall. “Keys are in there. Grab the top left set, that’s for this first one here.” She kicks the tires of the car behind her. “Get in, drive off, and don’t you dare look back. Casso’s going to be livid, but if you think this is right, then it’s right.”
I run to her and hug her tight. I don’t know why the women in this family are nice to me, but Elise has been like an older sister. It means more to me than she’ll ever realize. “Thank you.”
“Just make sure you come back, please. I’ll miss having a poolside friend.” She smiles and wipes a tear from her eye. “Now you’d better run. That guy’s probably inside by now.”
I run to the wall, grab the key, and hop into the car. The engine turns over and Elise watches me sadly as I pull forward. The big hunk of rolling metal drifts into the driveway, past the spouting fountain, and down to the main road. The gate rolls back once I figure out which button to press.
And then I’m gone. I hit the road and lower the gas pedal down. I put the address to my father’s compound in Mexico into the car’s navigation system and steel myself for a very long drive.
Casso’s going to kill me but I have to go. My father knows why my brother was at that meeting, and if I can understand it, I might be able to solve the whole puzzle. Danil wants me to figure something out, and I have to see this through. I have to do it, for myself and my brother and for Casso too, even if he doesn’t see it that way.
I hit the gas harder and I drive.
Chapter 22
Casso
Gavino pulls the slide back on his gun and lets it cock forward. He nods to himself, shoves the weapon into the holster under his arm, and leans back in his seat. Outside, the night is crisp and empty, the stars like paint splatter against a black canvas. Nico’s in the back seat with night-vision binoculars watching the front of a quiet strip club nestled in the parking lot of a strip mall at the meeting point of two major roads.