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Chapter Thirty-Two
A rental caris waiting for us at the private hanger as soon as we arrive. With Wes in the backseat, we make our way to the address George gave my father. There are several moments where I am ready to jump out and walk—I probably could beat them there. This traffic is fucking ridiculous; it's the middle of the night.
Thanks to the WiFi on the jet, Dad has been in constant contact with George and the security staff positioned at the Hamlin Estate. Denielle has been texting Wes, who attempts to give me updates, but when I ignore him, he also leaves me alone. I have no clue what he—or my father—told Wes’s parents to explain his sudden departure across the country. Don't care either. Since our one-sided chat, Dad seems to understand that I don't give a shit about what he has to say unless it involves Lilly's location and getting her back.
Thank fuck for that. I am over talking.
We pass a security guard, who meticulously dissects everyone's IDs before letting us enter the gated community. As we drive past the different properties, all separated from the road by various styles of walls, fences, and gates, I hear Wes mutter to himself, "Who the fuck lives here? The president?"
After what feels like years since Denielle’s name lit up my phone today, we approach the wrought iron gate the nav chick directed us to. Dad opens his window and types something into the keypad like he’s been here a million times.
What the hell?
I focus out the windshield, taking in the massive structure coming into view. In front of the house are two blacked-out SUVs and an even more decked-out RAM. Several men stand in front of the main entrance with a slightly shorter, dark-haired girl next to them: Denielle.
Arms wrapped around herself, her head snaps up as our car approaches. The men turn as well, and I recognize George instantly. How the hell did he get here before us?
Dad stops behind the farthest SUV, and Denielle takes off down the drive. Wes pushes his door open before we're fully stopped. Den jumps him koala-style and latches on. By the way her body is shaking, she is sobbing into my best friend's neck.
I exit the car a little slower, aiming straight for Lilly's bodyguard. I have tunnel vision.
George faces me as I reach the group. He's about to say something when I pull my arm back and let my fist fly. I clock him straight in the jaw, and his head snaps back. This is the only punch I get in, and the only reason I was able to make contact was the element of surprise.
I shake my hand out, even though I feel nothing. I move forward again. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER!"
"Holy shit!" Wes exclaims somewhere behind me.
"I TRUSTED YOU! WHAT GOOD ARE YOU IF THIS PSYCHOPATH WALKS STRAIGHT IN?" My voice cracks, and tears are streaming down my face. My chest heaves, yet I feel like I am suffocating.
Two of the guys grab me by the arms and secure them behind my back, assuming I’ll attack again.
"Let him go," George commands, and they instantly remove their hands. George steps closer and looks at me with such sorrow that it's clear he blames himself more than anything. Dipping his chin ever so slightly, it’s like a signal. I throw myself at the man like a little kid.
George's arms wrap around me, and he says, "I will bring her back. I promise you."
Unable to speak, I nod into his shoulder. I’m losing it in front of everyone.
George shifts but doesn't let go. "Colonel McGuire. It's an honor to meet you."
I draw in a shuddering breath and step to the side, wiping my face with both hands.
My father holds his hand out. "George Weiler, how is my daughter connected to The Ghost no one has seen in two decades?"
Lilly's bodyguard doesn't answer his question. Instead, he says, "Let's get everyone inside and settled. Then we’ll talk."
We congregatein the living room—or one of them, as we passed two more on the way in. I scan my surroundings as I trudge after George. The money in this house is visible but not in your face. Everything is decorated subtly and tastefully—Mom would approve.
Mom.A pang of guilt hits my chest. We just left her there. I wonder what she’s doing right now. If she and Natty will come to California.
I drop in the first seat available, which puts the kitchen in my direct line of sight. Two men and one woman are moving around. It looks like they're cataloging everything, taking pictures, and, as it seems, also looking for fingerprints. It's like we walked into a scene from one of those hyped-up crime TV shows, and I have to turn away. Someone broke in here and kidnapped Lilly, right there.
I avert my gaze. Den and Wes are on either side of me, with Dad standing by the door. George lowers himself into the closest armchair, and the remaining men distribute themselves in and outside the house.
"Where is Nate?" I break the silence in the room.
George's expression shifts to something unreadable, and it's like an invisible hand is choking me.
"What?" The word is just a rasped whisper.
