Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(89)

“Because you’re calling an hour early. Do you need something?”

Yes, you. “No, I just wanted to tell you that the Solises and Reagan have plotted their own surprise and are whisking me away somewhere. They seem ridiculously happy about it.” I look at their lunatic smiles on the mirror.

A pause. “Where?” The word is hissy, no doubt because he is clenching his teeth.

I am painfully aware of Javier’s eyes dissecting not only me but also Aiden through my reactions, so I smile. “I don’t know but I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. I’ll ring you the minute we arrive so you know where we are.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust your judgment when it comes to your own safety, Elisa. Or that of your friends for that matter.”

“Tell him thank you for my trip to England,” Reagan sings, bouncing to Lana.

“Yes, thank him for me too,” Javier nods in the mirror.

“Did you hear that?” I say to Aiden. “Reagan is revisiting diplomatic relations.”

Another pause. “They’re welcome. Now, I’d like to talk to Mr. Solis.”

I almost choke on my own saliva. “Why?” I whisper. Javier’s eyebrows furrow into a paintbrush again.

“Because I need to hear from his mouth that you will be safe.” More hissing.

“Umm…you sound relaxed,” I say, hoping he will get the hint that he should not hiss, growl, roar or bark at Javier.

A long pause. “Is this better?” His voice becomes even, without any intonation. That’s probably the best he can do right now.

“Yes, that’s good.” Despite my terror, I smile because oddly, this check-in feels intimate. I tap Javier on the shoulder and hand him the phone. “Aiden wants to talk to you.”

Javier’s frown deepens but he takes the phone. “Mr. Hale?”

I unbuckle my seat belt and lean over the front seat, pressing my ear against the phone and bumping Javier’s head.

“Are you taking her somewhere in Portland?” Aiden starts in his even voice.

“Yes. We’re almost there.”

“Crowded?”

“Yes.”

“Text it to me.”

“Mr. Hale, she’ll be fi—”

“Text it to me!” His voice hardens.

Javier’s forehead crumples and he blinks a few times. “Okay, I will. Anything else, Mr. Hale?”

“Yes. Here is the deal, Javier,” Aiden pauses as though to emphasize the fact that he used Javier’s first name. “As you no doubt know, Elisa will be under strict scrutiny from the U.S. government in a few weeks from her source of income to her moral character. Any incident with the law enforcement—any at all—and they may blink.”

Javier nods. “I know that.”

“I don’t want them to blink once. Is that clear?” The words sound like a command.

“I don’t want them to blink either.”

“Good, then I believe we’re on the same page.” Aiden’s voice softens.

Javier nods again. “Yes, I think we are,” he pauses, then adds, “I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your evening,” Aiden says politely.

I yank the phone from Javier before either of them can say another word. “Aiden?”

“Elisa, I need you to be careful. No matter what, your—safety—comes—first. Understood?” His voice is hoarse with anxiety. I can almost sense his rippling tension through the phone.

“Yes, I’ll be careful—don’t worry. I’ll see you when I get home.” Home? Bloody hell, did I just call his house, my home?

“I’ll be waiting.” A note of sadness enters his voice.

“I miss you.”

A sigh. “I miss you too.”

“You do?”

“If it will make you believe me, I have a picture of you sleeping as a screensaver. Now go have fun with your friends.” His voice softens.

I don’t hang up. I can’t move a finger after what he just told me. “Go, Elisa,” he orders.

I love you. “Okay,” I grumble and hang up, right as Reagan hits the brakes and parks sideways across two spots.

I look out of the window. We are in a multilevel concrete parking lot, lit up by fluorescents. Bloody hell, how did I miss the entire trip here?

“Where are we?” I ask, searching for road signs.

Reagan and Javier turn to me with identical grins on their faces, Reagan holding an envelope with glitter and Hello Kitty stickers—probably work of Anamelia.

“Da-da-da-dah!” she sings in the tune of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and hands me the envelope.

I laugh and tear it open, pulling out a ticket stub.

“Dog’s bollocks!” I squeal as I read it. “We’re going to a Lana Del Rey concert?”

Reagan starts bouncing on her seat and clapping. “Yes, yes, yes. Right this very minute.”

I squeal again and squeeze myself between the two of them, trying to hug them both. Reagan and I break into “This Is What Makes Us Girls” at the exact same second.

Javier covers his ears and shouts above our crowing. “All right, all right, let’s get going. We’re already five minutes late and the Coliseum is sold out. Ten thousand crazies like you two.” He pretends to shudder.