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13
One Of TheBest
I keep going backand forth between fury and terror. Fury that I’m being forced from my home by a demented outlaw; terror that he might hurt someone Ilove.
In the early morning light, the area around the farmhouse is filled with Adamos. Romero and Lando have summoned their cousins to help move us and our animals to safety.
I’ve already made calls to other families in the area, arranging for them to take the cows, goats, chickens, and sheep. Even though, officially, it’s only temporary, I know there’s a chance they’re leaving for good. That we’ll never live on our farm again.
The Tanners, who are taking in most of our livestock, will also be housing Zander, our Great Pyrenees. He’s a working dog, a gentle giant, and he needs to be with his charges. It makes me ill to think of anyone hurtinghim.
In the parlor, my sisters and I have stacked up our luggage. Two suitcases each; Romero was very explicit. “Only bring what you absolutely can’t get along without, or that’s irreplaceable. As soon as we can, we’ll make arrangements to store the rest of your things.”
Bree and Quinn also have their instruments with them: a guitar and a clarinet. The only thing I play is the piano, and I find myself staring longingly at the old upright in the corner. It has sentimental value that makes it irreplaceable to me, but moving it is obviously not a priority.
Romero’s arms circle my waist. “How you holdingup?”
I cover his arms with mine and lean back against him. “I’m doing all right. I’ll feel better when it’s done and all the animals aresafe.”
He kisses my temple. “I know this is rough. We wouldn’t make you do it if there were anotherway.”
Quinn told Bree and me about the mystery man in the kitchen last night. She’s certain he’s an Adamo; he feels like one, she said, whatever that means. Whoever he is, he’s the source of the warning that got us all up in the middle of the night.
Romero and Lando haven’t told us much, just that the man who wants the farm is both a criminal and not entirely mentally stable, and for now it’s better to err on the side of caution. Their careful restraint in explaining the situation only makes it more frightening.
Through a window, I see Romero’s cousin Carlo talking to some of his men. Romero told me that Carlo’s an ex-military guy like my dad, and now he runs his own security firm. Earlier, I shamelessly eavesdropped while the two of them talked.
“We’ve already run the Russian mob and those fuckin’ outlaw bikers out of town,” Carlo growled. “Either Santiago’s not very smart, or he thinks he’s got big brassones.”
“I think it’s more likely he’s clinically insane.”
“I checked him out after you called. If half the shit he’s suspected of is true, you’re doing the right thing getting the girls out. Eventually, the kind of life he’s living will catch up to him, but you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
Carlo’s the one who decreed that my sisters and I be split up and go to different houses. That scares me most of all. He didn’t say so, but I can only assume that if we were together, this Santiago person might try to take us allout.
If we had all gone off to college we’d be living apart anyway; but we didn’t, and my heart aches at being separated from them for the first time. It must be even worse for Bree and Quinn, twins who’ve never been apart a day in their lives.
Carlo comes in. “Let’s load up,” he tells us, and we all follow him outside. The driveway is full of SUVs and pickup trucks, several of them hooked up to trailers for hauling the animals.
The goats and sheep are bleating. I want to cry. This is the only home most of them have ever known, and they can’t understand what’s goingon.
Then I have to say goodbye to my sisters, and it takes all my willpower not to blubber like a baby. We hug each other tight, as if we’re being sent to the ends of the earth where cell phones don’t work and the internet doesn’t exist.
Romero takes my bags and loads them into his car, then holds the passenger door for me. The only consolation in this whole mess is getting to stay at his place. Carlo argued for putting me in a house with stronger security, but my man was adamant that I be withhim.
“Carlo,” he said when his cousin tried to talk him out of it. “If it were Gina, would you let her be under anyone else’sroof?”
Gina is Carlo’s wife, a curvy redhead around my age with a warm smile. I met her last night, and she’s been here this morning helping wherever she can. She told me when this is all over, she’ll share her little adventure with the Russianmob.
I’m curious about that, but I’m preoccupied by Romero comparing me to Gina. She’s Carlo’s wife, not his girlfriend or some random woman. It gives me a warm little glow inside, even in the midst of all this upheaval.
I can’t believe it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I first laid eyes on Romero. It feels like I’ve been through several lifetimes since then. What we have together feels older, too, like we’ve known each other months or years, not mere hours.
We don’t make the drive to Romero’s house alone; two black SUVs escort us. Part of me wants to just hide away and wait for this all to be over, but I can’t. “What happens now?” I ask him. “Will he try to take over the farm since no one’s there?”
“It’s possible,” he says reluctantly. “As far as we can tell, Santiago isn’t governed by any rules but his own desires. He’s canny enough to put on a good public face, but the reality is he’s quite ruthless about going after what he wants.”
“If a bunch of heavily armed men told me to back off, I’d listen. But you think he’ll just getmad?”
