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“I thought Nathaniel was a crime lord?” I asked quietly, leaning over and craning my neck to stare at a particularly large house as we passed by.
“Yeah, well, he’s been doing this a long time,” Bishop said. “Crime pays if you do it as well and as long as Nathaniel has. But make no mistake, he’s nothing like the kinda people you’re used to. Don’t let all the finery fool you.”
To be honest, it made me a little more relaxed, but I said nothing of the sort to Bishop as we pulled up to a gate. Bish leaned out of the car, pressing one of the buttons to speak into the intercom.
“Bish here. Nathaniel wanted to see us.”
There was a slight moment of silence, followed by static and then an answer.
“Yup. Roll on in.”
The gate parted with a creek, and we were on our way in. The drive was long, lined with perfectly clipped hedges, not a leaf out of place. At the end of the drive was a fountain, behind which sat a huge, dark red-brick manor.
It reminded me a lot of home, and there was a pang in my chest as we got out of the convertible. I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of my family’s estate as we walked up the paved path from the horseshoe drive to the front door.
Had it been sold already? Was there someone living in it now? Had they changed it in any way? If so, what had they done?
Those thoughts cluttered my brain as Bishop knocked on the door, delivering three hard raps before standing back. We waited a few moments in silence, and my heart beat a little faster when the door opened.
A statuesque man in a crisp suit stood before us. His silver hair was slicked back, and he gave a slight bow.
“Mr. Ward is waiting for you,” he said.
I should have been used to the opulence by now, but I hadn’t expected there to be an actual butler here. It was one thing for Nathaniel to use his money to buy himself a big house; another entirely for all of… this. I supposed that it should have made me feel comfortable, but all it did was raise the elevation of my heart.
How much crime had paid for all this?
I was given an odd look by the man as he led us in, but he said nothing about my being there. He brought us through the entryway, and I got a good look at the space. Everything was done in beautiful mahogany, understated filigree trimmings along the floors and ceilings. It was a strange juxtaposition, seeing the beauty and opulence of the house while knowing how it had been accumulated.
I stayed close to the boys as we were taken upstairs. We weren’t the only people here, and I got the sense that this place was more than a house—it was a headquarters. A group of men in their early twenties stepped out of a room, conversing in low voices amongst themselves.
They cast gazes toward us, lingering a little on me, but not in the same way that Flint looked at me. There was a measure of recognition in one man’s eyes, and curiosity in the others’.
I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t shy away from the stares either. If they knew who I was, then so be it. I wasn’t a shrinking violet. Not anymore.
We were brought to a large double door, and the man leading us knocked.
“Mr. Ward.”
A heartbeat later, the door opened.
Nathaniel Ward, much like everything about this estate, was not what I expected. He stood tall and was well dressed, in that kind of way where it felt effortless, but you could tell every piece of clothing from the black jacket to the wine red shirt underneath had been chosen intentionally. His slacks fit him well, and his dark hair was cropped close to the sides of his head, the hair at the top longer, slightly curled, and brushed back. He looked to me with interest, brown eyes gleaming in the warm light. Then he chuckled, looking to the Lost Boys.
“I didn’t know you were going to be bringing a friend,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.
“Is that a problem?” Kace asked, a little guarded, somewhat caged in his answer. I could see his fingers twitch slightly, as if he was just barely holding himself back from clenching his hands into fists.
A flicker of worry flashed through me.
Shit.
Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Not for the reasons the
boys had thought, and not because it would be bad for me to meet the man they worked for. But because Kace was still on edge after Flint’s shooting, as if that night had stirred something up inside him, a ghost that haunted him and refused to settle.
He hadn’t gotten into any more fights at school, but he seemed to live on a hair-trigger these days, ready to leap to my defense if anyone so much as breathed on me wrong.
Nathaniel shook his head, either not noticing or ignoring the note of challenge in Kace’s voice.
