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He rubs at the red skin on his arm and then nods.
“Apologies then. Art is truly irreplaceable, as is your life. If you need to contact anyone, I have a burner phone you can use.”
And with that, he continues his way down the long, ornate driveway. Always the consummate professional. Drives me absolutely mad.
As we drive, I see my rusted, run-down car parked on the driveway, half of it on the perfectly mowed grass, and feel a bit of satisfaction. My father tried so hard to get me to conform, but I just couldn’t. It’s my own form of rebellion from the life he so badly wants me to live. It’s why I rent a basement apartment in the city, why I run my own business, why I drive whatever car I want to.
And yet, I can’t escape the fact that my father is Anthony Costello.
The famed mobster. The one who runs underground gambling rings, launders money, traffics drugs.
A real winner, that one.
Hence the reason I wanted to move away from those ancient and outdated illegal activities. I mean, why launder money and traffic drugs by hand when you can sit at home on your computer and do all that shit with a click of a button?
And don’t even get me started on hacking. I can hack all the livelong day.
It’s so simple, so easy. I can do it with the stroke of a key. So many people leave things where I can find them. They’re just asking for it.
Begging really.
Except Skylar. I tried to find shit on him, but he’s like a ghost. It’s like he doesn’t actually exist, which is infuriating. I’d like something on him. A past offense, maybe. A brother’s criminal record…the kind of underwear he wears.
Anything.
And yet, there is nothing. Nada. Zip. Makes me want to drive a knife through a wall. Makes me want to make things bleed.
I stare out the window and watch as we drive down the street, the line of trees stretching down the roadways, the mansion I grew up in disappearing in the distance.
“Where are we going?” I ask, and Skylar’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
He has very large hands. I bet they could engulf my entire neck if he really wanted to kill me. All he’d have to do is squeeze.
I shift in my seat and sigh when he doesn’t answer.
“Do not make me force you, Skylar. ”
He huffs a laugh, probably thinking that there’s nothing a little runt like me could do to him. Well, I have tricks up my sleeve. I was trained for shit like this. I can manage. I can use my size against him. You don’t have to be tall and wide to make a point.
“A place up in the mountains. We will be moving around for a while until your dad can get this threat neutralized.”
I roll my eyes very dramatically. “Well, I’m hungry.”
Skylar points to the back seat. “Brought some snacks.”
I hate that he did, that he knows me so well. I know he doesn’t like me and yet, he does shit like this. He seems to have memorized things about me, and it makes me angry. I want to hulk out, want to turn green and grow muscles.
“I don’t want snacks. I want a meal,” I say despite it not being true. I can survive on Cheez-Its and water. Have done that before. Made it a whole seven days before I ended up in the hospital for fluids.
Skylar eyes me, his hands tightening even more on the steering wheel. The faux leather squeaks slightly as they twist, and I feel a thrill move through me. I do love a bit of danger.
Love to feel threatened.
Not that anyone ever threatens me, not to my face at least, which is a shame.
Could do with a little of that. Really gets my blood pumping.
“Just eat what I brought. We don’t stop.”
