The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(143)

But he’d already done that, hadn’t he.

In the shower.

Man, for once, memories of being with him didn’t get her juiced. They made her want to cry.

“I no understand why we leave so early,” her grandmother announced as she came up from the basement. “It is not even dawn.”

Her grandmother was dressed in the yellow version of her house frock, but she was ready for the trip, her good shoes on, her matching handbag hanging off her wrist from its fake leather strap. Behind her, Assail’s matched set of guards each had a suitcase—and they did not look happy. Although, come on, they hardly had faces built for the jollies.

“It’s a twenty-three-hour drive, vovó. We need to get started.”

“We are no stopping?”

“No.” She couldn’t take the risk with her grandmother in tow. “You can drive in the middle during the day. You love to drive.”

Her grandmother let out a sound that for anybody else would have been an F-bomb. “We should stay here. Is nice here. I like the kitchen.”

It was not the kitchen the woman was fond of. Hell, her grandmother could cook over a Coleman without blinking an eye—and had.

He’s not Catholic, Sola wanted to say. He’s actually an atheist drug dealer. Soon to be wholesaler—

What if she was pregnant? she wondered. Because she hadn’t taken her pill for two days. Wouldn’t that be …

Nucking futs, as they say.

Shaking herself out of la-la land, Sola zipped the rolling suitcase shut and just stood there.

“Well?” her grandmother taunted. “We go? Or no?”

As if she knew exactly what Sola was waiting for.

Or who, as the case was.

Sola didn’t have enough pride left to try to be cool as she looked around again, searching the entry from the dining area, the archway that was used when you came from upstairs or the office, the shallow hall at the head of the basement steps. All empty. And there were no footsteps coming at a dead run, no thumping from overhead as somebody rushed to pull on a shirt and get to the lower level.

Shower time aside, how could he not see her off …

At that moment, her grandmother took a deep breath and the flat yellow gold cross she always wore around her neck caught the overhead light.

“We go,” Sola heard herself say.

With that, she picked up her suitcase and headed for the back door. Outside, a totally lose-it-in-a-crowd Ford was parked close to the house, the rental agreement in the name of Sola’s emergency identity.

The one nobody in Caldwell knew she had. And in the glove box, there was another set of documents and IDs for her grandmother.

Using the remote, she triggered the locks to disengage, and opened the trunk. Assail’s men, meanwhile, were handling her grandmother with kid gloves, helping her down the stairs, carrying her luggage, and her coat, which she had obviously refused to put on in protest.

As they settled the woman into the passenger seat and her suitcase in the back, Sola searched the rear of the house. Just as before, she expected to see him, maybe running through the main room to get to her before she left. Maybe coming up from the basement and shooting through the mudroom to come out. Maybe skidding around the corner from having been upstairs …

At that moment, something strange happened. Every window in the house had a sudden shimmer to it, the glass panes between the sills and the flat plates of the sliding doors showing a subtle twinkle.

What the—

Shutters, she thought. There were shutters coming across the windows, the subtle movement the kind of thing you’d miss … unless you were looking in at the very second it happened. Afterward? It was as if nothing had changed. All the furniture was still visible, the lights on, normal, normal, normal.

Another of his security tricks, she thought.

Taking her time opening her door, she put one foot in and craned around. The two bodyguards had stood back and crossed their arms.

She wanted to tell them … but no, they didn’t seem like they were interested in carrying a message back to Assail.

They looked downright pissed off now that they’d gotten her grandmother safely into the sedan.

Sola waited for a moment longer, eyes fixed on that open rear door. Through the jambs, she looked at the shoes and the coats in that back hall. So ordinary-looking—well, ordinary for a rich person. But the house wasn’t Middle America anything, and not just because it was probably worth five million. Or ten.

Turning away, she slid behind the wheel, closed herself in, and got a good whiff of lemon air freshener. Under which was the faint stinky haze of cigarette smoke.

“I no know why we have to leave.”

“I know, vovó. I know.”

The tinny-sounding engine jumped to what little life it had and she put the car in reverse. K-turning, she gave that open door one last look.

And then there were no more excuses to linger.

Hitting the gas, she blinked hard as the headlights illuminated the driveway and then the one-lane road that would take them off the peninsula.

He was not going to come after her.

“You make a mistake,” her grandmother said on a huff. “Big mistake.”

But you don’t know the whole story, Sola thought as she came up to a stop sign and hit her directional signal.

What Sola was unaware of, however … was that neither did she.