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“I might’ve been able to talk your father into staying away, but I think there’s something he wants to discuss with Lynx. After our dinner with Buster and Annie, the two have been talking more frequently. Oh, wait. What did you say, Rick?” It sounded like my mom put her hand over the phone. “Honey, your dad wants to talk with you. Hold on.”
“Emme?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Listen, there’s been a slight change of circumstance since your mom’s been on the phone with you. I’m going to need you and Lynx to come into the city.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I hope so.” Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
After I’d hung up and gone to look for Lynx, I could tell he’d just ended a conversation similar to mine.
“My dad wants us to come into the city.”
Lynx eyes were hooded. “Yes.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly certain.”
It looked more like he did know, but didn’t want to tell me.
“Lynx?”
“I’ve arranged for helicopter transport. It will arrive in approximately twenty minutes.”
“I’ll get my things together.”
When the helicopter landed in the same place it had before, Lynx took my bags and pulled me toward it even though the blades hadn’t stopped turning. “Keep your head down,” he shouted.
He climbed in and then held his hand out for me to do the same.
“Emerson, this is Angel.” He motioned to the woman sitting in the pilot’s seat. I put on the headset she handed me.
“Nice to meet you, Emerson,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said, turning in my seat to glare at Lynx.
“What?” he mouthed, holding up both of his hands.
I wouldn’t say anything now when she could hear me, but Angel wasn’t just pretty, she was fucking gorgeous. Model gorgeous. Like Tommy, she was so ridiculously beautiful, they could be featured in an underwear ad together.
When we landed,Mario was waiting to transport us by car to my building.
Once we were on our way, I folded my arms and looked out the side window.
“What’s bothering you?” Lynx asked.
“Why did you talk to her about me?”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“If it isn’t what I think, what is it?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Saint.”
“Is she his girlfriend?”
