Chapter 14
Geneva
Ididn’t really know what on earth Rick was up to, but my spidey senses said it wasn’t anything good. As we dashed along a wooded, winding road through the exurbs well outside the city limits, I couldn’t help the unease ratcheting slowly higher. Where was he taking us?
Keep your shit together, Genie.
Looking out the window at the admittedly beautiful scenery, I took a deep breath, enjoying the soaring evergreens. The green, meticulously groomed lawns of houses we passed grew further and further apart as we drove, until there wasn’t much around us but woods and the occasional hobby farm or sprawling mansion on several acres.
When I was a little girl, Uncle Chester would sometimes take me fishing. Not because I liked fishing, or because he was any good at it. Rather, it had been a time of quiet, of thinking. Or something.
I’d observe him stabbing a squirming worm onto a sharp, glinting hook, then dumping it into the lazy, muddy ribbon of the Lowen River. Then I’d watch either him, or the water, hoping for something—anything—to happen.
Nothing ever did, of course. Uncle Chester was a man of many talents, but fishing didn’t count as one of them.
But what he was good at was showing me the truth of things—and not just how to subject a poor innocent worm to a skewering, followed by a drowning, sacrificed upon the altar of man’s need to effectively bait a fishhook.
Uncle Chester understood life in a way I’d never encountered before, or since. What he also liked to show me was something a little girl of scarcely eight understood—and certainly saw little value in. After having gone through half a dozen worm souls in a futile bid to coax even one of the Lowen River’s surprisingly wily, finned denizens onto his waiting hook, he showed me what patience meant. And calmness.
“You see, little Genie. I’ve been sitting in this hot, humid boat for how long now?”
“Too long, Uncle Chest.”
He’d nod along sagely, of course. “And in that long while have you seen me get frustrated? Or cross? Even once?”
While I had heard him mutter something that rhymed with ‘buck’ under his breath a time or two as he struggled with the elusiveness of the Lowen River’s fish, I gamely shook my head. “No, Uncle.”
“Precisely. Life tests a man.” He’d winked at me graciously. “Or a little girl, as the case may be.”
I’d smiled at that.
“And when life throws a test at a man, a man must do one thing, above all else. Do you know what that is?”
“What, Uncle?”
“Stay calm. No matter what happens. Cool as a cucumber in November.”
I’d always wrinkled my nose and giggled when he’d said that. I hated cucumbers, but it never failed to make me laugh when my uncle reeled off that phrase, being careful to pronounce the month ‘Novumber’ to ensure the playful, amusing rhyme.
“Do you know why that is?” he asked, withdrawing his hook from the water, the worm magically gone but without a fish to replace it. “Why calm is so important?”
“No, Uncle.”
“Because if you’re calm, you’ll keep your head. You’ll solve the problem, while everyone around you is too panicked to do anything but panic some more.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You might even save your life.”
I nodded along, giving him my most serious of faces but not really understanding why.
“Do you promise to remember that, Genie? For when life decides to test you?”
“Yes, Uncle. Cool as a cucumber in Novumber.”
He’d touched the end of my nose with a fingertip, his smile warm. “A very smart girl, you are. You make your uncle proud.”
“Genie…”
“What, Unc—” I bit my tongue, forgetting for a moment where I was. “Sorry—what did you say?”
Rick glanced at me, a muscle twitching at the corner of his much too square jaw. “Listen to me, and listen good.”
“Okay.” I hated the blush warming my cheeks at the demeaning tone in his voice, but it did something else to me I liked even less. I squeezed my thighs together, scowling as I tried to ignore the heat there too. “Fine.”
“What I’m going to show you is something you can’t tell anyone about. Not anyone. Not your uncle, not a fucking soul.”
Shit, what’s happening here? He gonna show you a body or something?
“Okay…”
“Not just okay. Tell me that you understand.”
I looked over at him, trying for a glare, but fearing I resembled a frightened mouse instead. “Fine. I understand, Rick.”
He surprised me again though by saying nothing, returning his attention back to the winding tree-lined drive. He slowed, then turned right, passing through an open, ornate wrought-iron gate. I peered behind us as we passed through it, a weight settling deeper in my belly as the gate swung closed smoothly in our wake.
“What, uh, what is this place?”
Maddeningly, he stayed silent, not even acknowledging my question. The sun-dappled shadows passed over the car as we drove, the strobe effect starting to give me a headache. We swept around a long left turn, then the forested landscape opened out into a vast, verdant gently rolling lawn, sprinklers spraying mists of water here and there.
Then I saw it. “Well… damn.”
The drive we were on ended in what looked essentially like a roundabout in front of a large, modern office complex several floors high, the smoky glass exterior reflecting the sun’s rays in dazzling, blinding brilliance. The three-story concrete parking structure set off just beyond, the tree-lined asphalt biking trails snaking in every direction across the sprawling, seemingly endless lawns. The sparkling contours of the main building evoked a sleek, tech campus feel.
Slow your roll, dummy. He’s a criminal, not a rich tech bro.
Rick pulled the car into a shaded parking spot among several other parked cars, the space only notable for the tiny sign at the head of it:
Reserved For CEO
“Isn’t this spot for someone else?”
He put the car in park, killing the ignition. “Nope.”
I snapped my head around to stare at him. “You… you can’t be serious about this. You expect me to believe this? That you… what? That you’re some kind of CEO?”
He gripped the top of the steering wheel, his big hand squeezing it so hard that it creaked. His voice was a gravelly rumble. “All I expect of you is to keep your mouth shut about this. Whatever else you think is irrelevant.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Provided you keep those opinions to yourself.”
With a fluid grace so unlike what I’d have expected from a big man like him, Rick stepped out of the car, slamming his door, and not bothering to look back at me as he strode across the parking lot toward the mirrored glass doors of the front entrance.
“Come with me,” was all he said.
My legs like lead, my heart galloping, my mouth agape, and the murmured words “I can’t fucking believe this” silently slipping from my lips, I did just as he ordered.