"The SUV I took here." He tosses me some keys as a flying teenager launches herself at him, hugging him tight. "Heya, kid. Violet says hi."
"She's not here, Cade."
Cade ruffles her hair. "She always says hi. And do what your brother says. If not, do what Lola says. Now, get your things together, I think you're having an adventure."
She looks at me. "Enzo? Where are we going?"
"Away."
As my sister races off to pack, Cade goes off to talk to the guy working on the door.
I glance at Lola, she is holding up, but I don't know how used to this side of the mafia world she is. Right now, she looks okay, but I'm betting it is adrenaline.
I'm going to need to get her clothes, though.
"So, Lola...we need to go somewhere saf?—"
"You might, I don't. I have work. Bills."
"And I'm your boss." I rub a hand over my face. This is tricky. "Look, you were here, so I'm not taking chances. You're coming with us."
"But—"
"No buts. You're coming, and that's final."
Chapter Thirty-Three
LOLA
I don't goto the Rockaways often, and it is nice, but my mind isn't on it. I'm a bundle of butterflies again, but without all the feel-good emotions rampaging along with them.
Now I want to throw up.
I don't know what Enzo has himself caught up in, but I know it has to be big, just like I know his sister and I are collateral damage waiting to happen.
Enzo doesn't say much on the drive, and I can't help but feel like I'm trapped in a thriller movie where the protagonists are fleeing for their lives.
"It's just for a little while," he says, like he can read my thoughts. "Until I sort this out."
He turns left onto a street.
"I need to get paid."
"And you will, Lola. Just, it won't be in office work. I have got plenty of things that have nothing to do with Barwon for you to do."
I just nod and look out the window at the houses passing in the streetlights, the dark of night seemingly pressing in.
It is a biggish plot of land when we arrive and go throughthe gates. Even at this late hour, I notice the other houses are closer together, and I wonder who the hell this Simon really is.
A doctor, yes, but there is no trauma doctor I know of who can afford what this looks like—two or three properties with a decent two-story house on it. Two or three, because in this part of New York, people can own sprawling spaces out here on the edges, but what some people do for privacy is buy up a few houses and knock them down, only to build on it.
I am glad it is no mansion, though.
I don't want to rattle about in a mansion.
Instead, it is a two-story modern-looking place. And...my heart sinks.
There is a car in the driveway.
