The place was…was…
Not at all what I thought a hideout would be.
A very expensive-looking split-level home made of glass and steel built into the side of a cliff overlooking a long stretch of empty beach. It was surrounded, not by other houses, but by dense forest. The high sun glinted off the east-facing windows and steel railings like diamonds.
There was no sign of anyone moving around inside.
What there was, was a gate directly in front of me.
It looked locked.
Fuck. What did I do now?
Taking my foot off the accelerator, I moved it to the brake.
And blinked when a soft chime sounded from my glove compartment a second before the gate began to slide open.
What. The. Fuck?
Beside me, Lucas groaned.
I let out a soft cry, the unexpected noise dialing my jitters up to a gazillion. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles felt like they were going to pop, I squinted at him.
The sun outside cast him in a glaring, color-bleaching light. It didn’t, however, hide how ashen his skin was.
“Lucas?” I whispered. No, I don’t know why I whispered either. “Are you sure this is the…”
I stopped myself before I could say right place. Something in my car had just opened the security gate, some kind of proximity activator, I assumed. Of course this was the right place.
Fixing my stare on the sweeping driveway leading up to the glass and steel building, I let out a wobbly breath and pressed my foot to the accelerator.
The Camaro slowly crunched its way up the drive, bringing us closer to the house.
Lucas didn’t make another sound.
I pulled to a complete halt and killed the engine in front of the closed double garage door. The tick-tick-tick of hot metal cooling filled the silence, as did the distant cry of loons beyond the windows.
I studied the house, its rooms clearly visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows for a moment and then, taking a lucky guess, I reached over Lucas’s inert body and popped open the glove compartment.
There, in amongst my normal shit—spare sunglasses with scratched lenses, numerous tubes of lip gloss, parking fines I probably should get around to paying sometime soon, a bag of Hershey Kisses that most likely were melted beyond their cute shape by now—was a small black rectangle with a smaller red button in the middle.
Straightening back into my seat with the strange device in hand, I looked at the closed garage door and pressed my thumb to the red button.
The garage door slowly rose, revealing a bright yellow sports car that my brain told me was a Ferrari but my eyes refused to believe was there, and an empty spot beside it.
Heart thumping faster than ever, I started the engine of my Camaro, drove into the empty spot and closed the garage door behind me.
I turned off the ignition and sat in my ticking car again for a moment, pulse pounding in my ears.
Okay. Now what?
Get Lucas inside. Check his wounds. Then get answers.
I could do that. Sure.
With a determined nod of my head, and a concerted girding up of my loins, I got out of the car, hurried around to the passenger side door and opened it.
Lucas didn’t move. He looked bad. Really bad. But even looking like he was on death’s door, he was still the sexiest fucking bastard I’ve ever laid eyes on.