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Curling my fists in my lap, I refrain from saying anything else.
I don’t want to clean up and relax. I want to get this shit done and go home. But clearly, I’m not on my timeline now; I’ve got to fit into Luciana Rivera’s schedule.
Tipping my head back, I allow my eyes to close for a beat as I just take a breath.
This is where I need to be right now. If I’m going to get to the bottom of what my father has been doing, if I’m going to give Alana the closure that she needs and help her discover what happened to Kristie, then I have to suck it up and do as I’m told.
All I can hope is that it’s worth it. That Griff isn’t leading me down the wrong path while I need to be in Harrow Creek, protecting my future and those who are important to me.
If it were anyone other than my uncle, I might be questioning just how easily I hopped on a plane and left the country. But I trust him. I have to. He has questions that need answering just as much as I do.
It’s almost an hour before the guy—who never actually introduced himself—pulls off the freeway and down an almost secluded track.
The terrain changes, leaving me bouncing around in the back of the car.
“It’s not the front entrance,” he explains.
“You don’t say,” I mutter, the car bouncing so hard over a pothole that I almost hit my head on the roof. “Did you want to slow down a little?”
He doesn’t respond to my suggestion, nor does he slow down.
His decision. It’s not my car he’s fucking the suspension up on.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally brings the car to a stop and kills the engine.
Despite going into the hotel through the back entrance, it’s instantly obvious that we’re not in just any hotel.
Every surface is either marble or gold, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the cheap kind either.
I’m led toward an elevator and the guy opens a hidden panel before tapping in a code, instructing it to rise through the building.
My reflection taunts me from every angle, reminding me that I haven’t slept and that I look in no fit state to meet with Luciana. No wonder the guy suggested I rest.
The seconds tick by as the elevator continues to rise. By the time the doors open, allowing us to exit, I’m surprised we’re not on the roof.
Long, white hallways with thick dark gray carpets spread out before me. There are only a handful of doors in each direction, confirming my suspicions about the kind of room—or should I say suite—that can be found on a floor this high in the building.
The guy takes off and I diligently follow behind him, noticing, and not for the first time, that he is packing something I really don’t want to be on the receiving end of.
Finally, at the far end of the hallway, he slows to a stop and pulls a card from his pocket.
After unlocking the door, he passes me the card.
“Someone will come and get you when she’s ready,” he informs me before taking a step back.
“At what time?” I ask.
“When she’s ready,” he repeats.
“I need to make a phone call,” I state, thinking of JD at home.
“Then you’d better hope she doesn’t keep you waiting,” he says before retreating down the hallway.
“Brilliant.” Thank God Alana wasn’t that much of a diva when she was in my care. Or after, for that matter.
I whistle appreciatively as I walk deeper into the suite I’ve been given.
It’s not exactly Harrow Creek.
