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He grins. "Yes, Boss.”
I crack up laughing, finding the word ‘boss’exciting as all hell, now understanding why Clay Butcher looks and smells like power… Because that’s what he is—walking, talking, smelling perfect power. And I have a little borrowed power of my own now, too.
I get an idea.
Now that the threat of my dad is… over, I take a big breath. “Can I leave the house?”
“You may.” He holds his hand out for me to take, and I do, standing with his assistance. “Where would you like to go?”
“To Max and Cassidy’s house. Then to see Xander,” I say immediately, brushing the short white hairs from my jeans and flowy pink crop top. I got a little head spin from jumping up fast but rattle the fuzz around until it releases its hold.
His brows draw in. “Of all the places you could go, you want to head straight towards drama again?”
“Yes. I want to make sure he’s okay. He took a bullet for me. And he’s pissed Clay off. And Cassidy must be so upset. Fuck, maybe withme…” I fumble on the unwelcome thought, remembering the last time I saw her and Shoshanna, I avoided them. Avoided the accusation in their sorrowful eyes. “Damn.” I cringe at the memory. “Yeah. I have to go. And I have to see Xander too. It’s my fault he was taken. And he’s…my friend.”
“And you should eat more before we go,” he insists. “Don’t think for a second I didn’t just see you nearly faint—"
“I didn’tnearly faint. Don’t be dramatic.” After putting Luna back in her pen, I walk towards the kitchen. He trails me, his dubious expression like a hand tapping me on the shoulder.
“You went whiter than you are naturally.”
“No, I didn’t,” I dismiss, grabbing a muffin from the basket of goods Maggie fills with freshly baked pastries and cakes. “See.” I wave the orange and poppyseed muffin at him.
Wandering towards the front door, I take a bite because he isn’t wrong. I’ve eaten. I had cereal. But when I stood up, I did get a little wave of dark coasting across my vision, a moment of weakness, heavy headiness, but I’m set on seeing Clay’s brothers and Cassidy.
My direction—towards the front doors— spikes my pulse as though any minute now I will get tackled to the ground for trying to escape.
I open the left one and slowly step out into the spacious air, utterly free, standing at the top of the stairs in the far-reaching daylight. It is a beautiful estate. The hedges roll into the distance towards those looming white fences.
At the foot of the front steps, shiny black vehicles line the side parking lot with one standing out like a sore thumb—it’s red. Henchman Jeeves is suddenly at my side, and the out of place car flashes ahead. The sound of it unlocking resonates like independence.
“That’s your vehicle, Fawn. And they”—he points to the four men now climbing into another car nearby— “will be following us. They work for Clay.”
Of course.
“I knew he couldn’t relinquish complete control.” I jog down the steps and rush over to the car, eager to touch it. I run my fingers across the metallic red paint—no, orange, no, gold… Depending on the angle, the car flashes with various analogous colours. I smile. “It’s a nice offer though. Isn’t it?”
“It is.” He rounds the vehicle and steps into the driver’s side with one foot, staring at me over the sparkling red/orange roof. “Jump in, and I’ll take you to see Mr Butcher.”
I grin over the roof, then wiggle my eyebrows with mischief dancing around on them. “Do you think he’ll teach me to drive it one day?”
“I doubt it. Anyway, you have me.”
“Hmm. I’ll work on him.”
* * *
It takestwenty minutes to get to Max and Cassidy’s neighbourhood. The houses are mostly two storeys, a bit smaller than the ones in Connolly, but the appearance of wealth is still in the cleanliness, the perfect green lawns.
All those cultivated roses.
Being from the other side of Stormy River, I’ve only ever seen poverty. Rusty bikes and motor vehicles abandoned on lawns. Couches in strange outdoor positions. The kind I’d never sit on. Not for a million dollars. Then, a few months ago, I experienced the culture shock of Clay’s level of abundant prosperity.
We slow at the base of a small hill. There are no parking spots, so we leave the car on the street. Closely behind us, the car with Clay’s soldiers brakes and parks a few lengths away.
Henchman Jeeves opens the passenger door for me, and I make my way up the pretty pebbly walkway to the house.
Ahead of me now, standing on top of the hill, is a home with two levels and low white fencing around a veranda.
