“No more than I was before,” he says. “I don’t exactly feel safe anywhere, not even in your husband’s mansion.”
“Okay,” I reply, deciding on a course of action. Andretti and Marcello are in the wind. There’s no way they would be stupid enough to come here. Francisco isn’t going to stop hunting them either. He’s promised to do everything he can to keep us safe, and I believe him. But I can’t stay here without any answers. I feel like I’m suffocating the longer I stay confined to these walls. Brandon and I need to move forward, to put the past behind us. I deserve to say one more goodbye to my father before flying off to Italy, or committing to whatever comes next with Francisco, and there’s no time like the present.
The problem is how. I’m sure my bodyguard wouldn’t approve. He would have to get his Don’s permission, and it seems like Francisco isn’t available right now. I look out the window, wondering how safe it would be to climb out from the second floor. I don’t want to bother anyone, but I really want to escape. It will be just for a little while, just a quick trip to my father’s grave and then we’ll be back in time for dinner.
I force the window open. It takes a little bit of work because it’s probably been a while since the window has been opened. I pause to listen for an alarm, but I can’t hear anything. Leaning out, I notice that there are some bushes below us. It wouldn’t be a big deal to jump down.
“Are we going out the window?” Brandon asks suspiciously.
I turn to him with a sigh. “It’s easier this way. I don’t think I can convince the bodyguards to let us go.”
“I’m on board,” Brandon says. “The sooner we can get out of this place, the better.”
“We’re not running away,” I tell him.
“Speak for yourself,” Brandon snaps.
I study him for a moment, trying to decide what to do. He’s still injured. I don’t know if the jump will hurt him, or if I’m willing to run the risk of him not coming back with me. But he is an adult, and he can make his own decisions. If he chooses not to return to Francisco’s home with me, that’s his choice.
“Should we?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes, we should,” he decides for both of us.
He eases me out of the way and peeks out the window himself. I stand back, watching as he puts one leg out and straddles the windowsill. So far, so good. There is no reaction from the security force. It seems like we’re in the clear, so Brandon pulls his other leg over and drops out of sight.
I half expect to hear a scream, but there’s nothing. I rush to the window and look down, waiting, but Brandon doesn’t move. My heart starts to pound. He’s barely recovered from a concussion and now he’s just fallen out of a second-story window. What if he escaped torture only to die by falling out of a window? Suddenly, I hear a long drawn-out groan, and I let out a breath of relief. Brandon rolls off the bush and slowly climbs to his feet, clutching at his rips. He looks up and gives me a wave. I guess it wasn’t that big of a drop.
I run to the dresser and grab my cell phone, sticking it in my pocket. Then I lean out the window, sliding one foot after another out into the fresh air. I’m hanging on with my fingernails, terrified of what I’m about to do. I close my eyes and let go. The ground rushes up immediately, slamming into my feet. The bushes scratch my legs as I roll free. After a few seconds, the tingling goes away and I’m fine.
“Good?” Brandon asks.
“I’m good,” I say. “Are you?”
“I’ve been better,” he responds with a grunt. “But I survived the fall.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” I observe.
“Now what?” he asks, glancing around.
We’re at the back of the house, looking out at the garden. The garage with all of Francisco’s cars is to our right.
“This way,” I say, leading my brother toward the garage.
As we approach the building, I can see a guard sitting just outside the door. He hasn’t spotted us yet, but if we stay where we are, he’s going to see us in a minute. I grab Brandon and pull him back behind the garage. This isn’t going to be easy. It’s like escaping a maximum security prison, and this is supposed to be my home.
My first thought is that we could just borrow a car and then return it. But if I have to explain myself to the guard, then he’s going to want to know where my bodyguard is. And they’ll go up the food chain until they arrive at my husband, who is going to want me to wait until he gets home.
Our other option is to scale the wall at the back of the property, and try to make it out to the road. But I’m not sure if Brandon can handle that. I’m a little bit surprised that he isn’t more shaken up after dropping from a second-story window.
“Here’s what I think,” I begin, laying out our options.
“Maybe there’s a door in the wall,” Brandon suggests.
“I don’t know,” I admit. I’ve been to this house dozens of times, but I haven’t actually lived here that long. And I haven’t taken the time to circumnavigate the backyard to see if there’s a door. “It’s worth a try.”
We ease our way back from the garage and scan the rose bushes. There are many levels in the garden, specifically designed to hide the wall. It’s for aesthetics, but maybe it’s also for security reasons.
I’m going to have to climb in there and go all the way back until I reach the wall, because I can’t see it from where I’m standing. I glance at Brandon and see that he’s come to the same conclusion. Very delicately, we pick our way through the thorns, careful not to disrupt any of the rosebuds. When we finally reach the wall, I can see it’s way too tall to climb.
