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6
A LUXURIOUS GRAVE
The helicopter wentfrom land to ocean in what felt like a millisecond. My legs ached fiercely from tensing them ever since the machine left the ground—and it wasn’t from fear of flying. I enjoyed flights, once I was in my seat and through the dreary battle that was the TSA. I ordered coffee or wine, stuffed headphones in, sat back, and listened to music in the seat’s arm.
Now, I clutched a crystal goblet of champagne like it could maybe help me chisel out of this flying tin can.
Neri remained unperturbed. He sipped casually at his drink, but not enough to actually drain the liquid. He, like me, was using it as a prop. But unlike myself, I had no idea why he was continuing his sobriety as we chopped through ocean air. He could have so many things in store for Scarlet Rhodes, idiot extraordinaire. I could be auctioned off to the highest sex bidder or turned into a foreign slave in a country with no extradition requirements. Cutting a quick glance to Neri’s bodyguard sitting next to him, I thought, hell, they could toss me out the door right now and have me smacking into the water before Neri lifted his glass for a third sip.
Neri didn’t bother to make conversation, which, under usual circumstances, I appreciated. But I didsowant to know if he planned to bring me back to Los Angeles by the end of this.
“We agreed to only one night,” I found myself saying through the little microphone curved in front of my face. Two giant Princess Leia-type gray headphones protected my ears.
Neri glanced at me, the whites of his eyes like ivory tusks. He adjusted his headset, then spoke. “Yes, you bet as such.”
“So…” I lifted my glass, gesturing outside, “Where are we going?”
Neri might have smiled, but I couldn’t tell. “That will be up to you, my dear.”
I paused. As in, what? If I behave myself accordingly? If I choose all the right moves?
Oh, if only Neri knew.
The chopper tipped, and I braced myself on the seat though I was belted in, champagne sloshing.
“Ah,” Neri said, peering out. “We’ve arrived.”
I followed his gaze, half expecting Alcatraz. Instead, what greeted me was a slash of white carved out of the blackened saltwater, lights of our helicopter circling blurry spotlights around its target.
“A … boat?” I asked, more to myself.
“Indeed. Stay still for this,” Neri said, and leaned back himself.
As far as landing a helicopter went, which I knew nothing of, it was bumpy, but tame. Most of my drink landed on my forearm and not the gown. This boat had a fucking helipad, so it couldn’t be titled a boat in my head any longer. A yacht. A luxury, million-dollar yacht that only sheiks and billionaires possessed, and celebrities used as rentals.
The bodyguard went first, while the blades were still spinning, and hopped out. Once the door was open, the headsets were useless so Neri simply waved me on to go next.
I crouched out of my seat, stepping tentatively but avoiding Neri’s helping hand. My hair lifted in an instant as soon as my forehead hit fresh air, the strands tangling into a visor that obscured my vision. A hand clamped on my arm, too sweaty and hammy to be Neri’s, and I leaned into it anyway, taking the steps out of the chopper with the carefulness of a toddler wearing her mom’s heels for the first time.
He rushed me out of the blades’ arc immediately, and we came to a stop along the edges of the painted helipad target while we waited for Neri. My head tilted up, unbelieving of the fact that this boat—sorry,yacht—had at least three stories to it. And that wasn’t counting what could be under my feet.
As soon as Neri cleared, the helicopter lifted, curved slightly, then flew back whence it came.
There went my ride.
Neri lifted his eyebrows as he passed, “Welcome to theHatari.Follow me, my dear.”
“Are we—is there a game going on?” I asked as I came up beside him. This wasn’t unheard of. A lot of high-priced poker games were played on the host’s yachts, most especially when they could cross into Mexico and enter international waters to avoid tariffs.
Was that where we were? Mexico? I grimaced.Shit.
International waters also meant Kai would never find me. Or my body, if it came to it.
We entered through sliding glass doors where the interior was well lit and I blinked against the unexpected brightness. I suddenly felt exposed in such a tight gown and quiet place. Like I’d missed the ferry to the Governor’s Ball and landed on a mafia king’s instead.
Plush. It was the only way to describe the main room where we stood. White leather couches, but the cushions were so pillowy it would be like sitting on clouds. Real fur rugs were splayed under coffee tables and side tables.
Red accents outfitted the walls. A ruby-painted skull of what maybe was an elk or some other creature with horns adorned the space above the couch. A rifle was mounted on the mantel above the fireplace.
