Who the hell is Andre?
He paces between two trees before finally shoving his phone back into his pocket and returning to me.
“Come on,” he says.
“Where are we going?” I eye him warily. “How are we getting home?”
“We’re not going home.”
“Then where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
I sigh, still not moving. “Are we walking?”
“We have a ride coming, but we need to meet them in a neighborhood about half a mile away.”
My shoulders curl forward as I use the tree to brace myself and stand. My body screams in protest.
“Do you want me to carry you again?” There’s an unexpected sincerity in his tone.
I shake my head. As exhausted as I am, he has to be even more so.
We walk silently under the full moon. When we meet a narrow road, I look each way, as if expecting the men who chased us to appear.
Emilio leads us into a neighborhood and straight to a parked black Suburban. He opens the back door and gestures for me to get in. I sink into the seat, my body relaxing. He slides in beside me.
“Emilio,” the older man behind the wheel says as he pulls onto the road. He has a deep smoker’s voice.
Emilio gives him a single head nod and tugs his phone from his pocket. His jaw tenses as he texts.
I stare at the back of the driver’s head, debating on asking if he knows who Andre is, but don’t.
The ride is quiet. The only sound is the occasional slurp from the driver taking a drink of his slushy.
I run my fingers through my knotted hair before lowering my head and whispering, “I forgot my purse in the Range Rover,” to Emilio.
He doesn’t look away from his phone. “Leo will get it.”
I nod, turning my head to stare out the window. My eyes grow heavy as I drift into a light sleep. I jolt awake when the SUV rolls to a long stop.
Emilio opens the door, steps out, and offers his hand. “Come on.”
His palm is warm as I take it. As my feet hit the pavement, I look around, noticing my surroundings.
We’re at a private airstrip, surrounded by small planes and jets.
Emilio leads me straight to a compact jet. A man with a long ponytail stands at the base of the staircase.
“Good evening,” he greets, his voice deep like gravel.
Emilio gestures for me to enter the jet first.
I don’t know how safe it is, flying to who knows where with this man, but I also don’t know how safe I am staying behind either.
So, with a nod, I walk up the stairs.
I waituntil we’re in the air before I start my questioning.
