Surrounded by the old-growth trees around the property, the house looked like an artifact from the future.
Or maybe another planet.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s some house.”
“Pretentious as fuck,” Jagger said. “But that’s the Kings for you.”
We parked the G-Wagon next to a black Humvee and got out of the car.
“They know we’re coming right?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
I’d never talked to anyone but the Hawks about what had happened to my parents. What if these… Kings thought I was crazy?
“They know.” Hawk was also wearing sunglasses, his jeans stretching to accommodate his big thighs, his T-shirt a breath away from being too tight as it tried to contain his chest and shoulders.
“Don’t be nervous, mouse.” Vigo kissed me on the lips. “You’re safe with us.”
We walked to the door and rang the bell. A few seconds later the door was opened by a willowy blonde in a printed maxi dress who looked liked she should be on a red carpet somewhere.
I recognized her. She’d been in the coffee shop more than once, sometimes with a couple of girlfriends, other times with one of three tattooed guys wearing designer clothes and flashing wads of cash.
Her smile lit up her whole face. “You must be the Hawks. I’m sorry to call you that but it’s the only way Neo, Oscar, and Rock have referred to you.” She looked at me and extended her hand. “I’m Willa.”
“Cassie.”
She nodded. “I recognize you from the coffee shop.”
“I just had the same thought.”
She clapped her hands together like a child being given extra birthday cake. “Now we know each other!”
I returned her smile. “I guess so.”
“Please,” she said, standing back to open the door wider. “Come in.”
43
CASSIE
We steppedinto a wide entryway that looked onto a stylish living room where two guys sprawled on a sofa playing video games.
“The Hawks are here,” she said. “With Cassie.”
The men set their game controllers aside and one of them turned off the TV.
“Yo,” the blond one said, coming toward us. “Welcome.”
“Thanks for seeing us,” Jagger said.
The Hawks introduced me to the two men: the blond with the bone structure of a model was Rock and the brunette wearing an old Pulp Fiction T-shirt was Drago (although Willa seemed to call him Oscar?).
I saw their gazes linger on the silver collar around my neck and wondered if they knew about the Hunt. If they knew the Hawks owned me now.
“Have a seat,” Rock said, gesturing to the living room.
“Can I get you anything?” Willa asked. “Iced coffee? Iced tea?”
We all said no just as another dark-haired man entered the living room, a cherubic gurgling baby on his hip.
