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I shrug. I wasn’t hiding, not really. “Not today. There’s something I need to do.”
“Okay,” she says on a sigh. “Just keep out of trouble, Laylay. Don’t make me change my mind and ride along, and you will tell me everything tomorrow, or I’ll handcuff you to me until you do.”
She’s the best.
***
Okay, so borrowing Dorothy’s clothes may be going too far, but I do it anyway, squeezing into her black leggings and pulling her oversized sweater over it, then shrugging on her long black coat.
Can’t chance anyone who saw me walking out of the warehouse premises recognizing me.
Dorothy’s already pulled on my black dress and heels. “The sacrifices I make for you,” she mutters, frowning. “My feet will be killing me for the next three hours.”
“You look awesome,” I assure her absently and open my hand, palm up. “Car keys.”
“Take care of my baby.” She glances at her small green Audi before she tosses me the key. “You’d better bring it back in one piece.”
“I feel the love.”
“And bring yourself back in one piece, too. Whatever it is you’re about to do. Spying on your dad. And Hawk. What are you doing, Laylay?”
“Pulling a prank on them?” I give her the keys to my car. “You know how Dad is. He won’t tell me stuff. And Hawk’s the same.”
“That why you like him?”
I freeze for a moment. “No, that’s not it. Anyway, I need to find out some things on my own, since they won’t tell me.”
“That why you think you’re Layla Bond, secret agent extraordinaire?”
“You’re just upset because you’re not coming with.”
She gives me a long look. “Are you being straight with me? You’re not putting yourself into any sort of trouble?”
“Me? You know me, Dodo. I’m a good girl.”
“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” Shaking her head, she waves goodbye and returns to her work, while I set out to find out what the hell’s happening in my dad’s warehouse.
***
My plan is to sneak back as night falls and try and get Hawk out. Or talk to my dad about this. Whichever is easier. Although making sure Hawk is okay seems more important right now.
In my borrowed car, I return to the warehouse. The people working there know my car, hence these dramatic measures. All this is justified, all right?
Doesn’t stop me feeling like an idiot. Dorothy is right. This is stupid. I should just talk to dad, clear this up. I bet he knows nothing about Hawk being tied up and beaten bloody next door to his office.
My pulse racing, I drive slowly into the parking lot of the company and kill the engine. I gather up my long hair into a bun at my nape, button up the dark coat, and grab my purse.
Really stupid, but what choice do I have? The police won’t help me, and I’m not sure what to think of Dad. I want him to be innocent of this, but is he?
And what about Hawk? Is he innocent? What about the mafia Dad said he was involved with? Is this because of it? Did he get himself into bad trouble—and why am I about to do the same for him?
What if Dad was right to warn me off? What if I’m about to commit the biggest, most dangerous mistake of my life?
Then I think… what if it was the other way round? What if someone found me tied up, hurt and alone, and didn’t do a thing about it? What if the police are in the dark, too? What if Hawk needs help?
Why am I so set on helping a man I have such contradictory feelings for?
I hesitate before I climb out of the car. I just need to talk to him. Look at him again, make sure I wasn’t hallucinating earlier. Snap a picture on my phone. Have proof.
