And these people were friends with my aunt?
What if Gia had escaped one gang for another? It would be just her luck. Why hadn’t she considered that? True, she’d been distracted by the whole Franco-isn’t-your-biological-father thing,but still. She should have asked more questions before trapping herself in a car with a woman who didn’t need to sleep.
“You good?” Sam asked, almost as if she could sense Gia panicking.
“Fine, but I need to get out of this car. How are you not fried after driving for so long?”
“I don’t need much sleep,” Sam said as if her driving-without-stopping superpower was nothing special.
Gia couldn’t bring herself to ask for clarification. She’d get to Shearwater Landing, claim her inheritance, and then never see Ramirez or Sam again. And if these people and her aunt had been into some dodgy shit? Well, Gia would have some choices to make, but she was not letting anyone control her life. Never again.
An hour later, Sam exited the highway. The sun rose over Shearwater Landing, glinting off an impressive skyline. This city was much larger than Ashton Lakes. See, Franco didn’t control the entire world. Gia tried to take comfort in the reminder.
Sam navigated the city streets with ease, passing through the tallest buildings and leaving them behind. Eventually, she pulled over on a rundown block of closed shops.
Sam pulled the parking brake and twisted around. “I called Edward while you were sleeping. He’s upstairs waiting for you. Would you like me to give you a ride to Susan’s place, uh, your new place, after you sign the papers?”
“You don’t have to,” Gia said automatically.
“Obligation isn’t why I offered.” Sam smiled, and Gia realized it was the first time she’d seen the woman do so. She didn’t look much older than Gia despite the mature impression her calm authority gave.
“No, it’s all right. You must be dying to get home and sleep.” Gia paused as a thought occurred. “Are you from Ashton Lakes?”
“Never been there before in my life.”
“Oh…” Gia’s pulse quickened for reasons she couldn’t put her finger on. “Do you live here?”
“Not in the Banks, no. That’s the neighborhood we’re in,” Sam added in response to Gia’s blank look. “I’m in the Arts District, but I’m sure I’ll see you around once you settle in.”
“Maybe.” Gia had no clue why Sam assumed they’d reconnect. This wasn’t a small town where you ran into people all the time, and despite the massive favor, they hadn’t struck up a friendship. “Thanks for helping me.”
Sam’s stoic expression turned alarmingly tender. “Of course. We’ve been trying to find a way to get to you for years.”
A chill ran down Gia’s spine. What the hell? Yeah, the lawyer mentioned Susan had tried to contact her, but contact was a far cry fromgetting to her. And Susan’s attempts had nothing to do with Sam.
Whatever Susan had done over the years, she couldn’t have tried very hard. Ramirez had tracked her down and ferried her away easily enough.
This was smelling more and more like organized crime. Or something dodgy.
“I really appreciate your help,” Gia repeated as she grabbed her backpack and opened the door. She did appreciate it, but she didn’t trust this woman.
SIX
AURORA
For the life of her,Aurora couldn’t figure out where she was.
Okay. She was in a room with a desk. She knew that much.
Butwhydidn’t this room have any windows?
She screamed, the sound deafening to her own ears, even though she had no physical ears. No vocal cords. No body.
Was the sound of her scream all in her mind? No, she didn’t have a mind either. No neurons firing. Aurora was a spirit. A ghost. And no one responded to her cries of rage.
Without a body, Aurora couldn’t open the door to the room, the desk drawers, or the cabinets lining the wall. If she held her hands in front of her face, she saw a pale outline of her former self, but she had no physical presence. She could feel the desk when she placed her hand against it, the wood preventing her from passing through, but that was all.
Apparently, she existed enough to be confined, but not enough to have any impact on the world around her. And she had no way of knowing if anyone could hear her cries for help.
