Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
LOLA
I don't go to 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 through the 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.
We pull up next to it, and a sleepy Lyndall stumbles out of the back seat, giving a big yawn. "Is this Cade's?"
"No," Enzo says, "Dr. Simon's."
But she is hurrying up the path as the door opens, and the man with the dark blond hair, who claims to be a trauma doctor and was meant to be at the hospital, steps out.
She hugs him, so I don't know. Maybe he had money he inherited, and being a trauma doctor is just a calling.
I start to follow, but Enzo stops me, his warm, strong hand curling around my arm. "Lola."
"Yes?"
He pulls me into him, leaning in close and feathering his lips over mine. "I'm sorry this happened, and I'm sorry if you're caught up in this."
"In what? And he's a trauma doctor? How can he—"
"Rich parents." He releases me and steps back. His face flashes pure, dark fire. "I need to talk to Simon and make sure Lyndall doesn't call her friends or...anyone." Then a muscle works in his jaw. "That goes for you, too."
I don't like being treated like a child. And does he know about Lyndall's twenty-year-old boyfriend? She is a child, and I want to fling that at him.
But inside, I'm shaking because I remember when everyone came for Dad before his death, and then with a vengeance after. They came for me, even though I had no idea what was going on.
I don't want that happening to Lyndall.
And I don't want it happening to me again, either.
"Is that all?"
"No calls or texts. In fact, turn your phone off."
I narrow my eyes. "Should I hand it to you?"
"Do I need to collect your phone?"
"No," I push out, "you don't."
He nods. "Good. Go and help out Lyndall."
I don't respond. I stalk down the path to the porch and climb the couple of steps. There is a look exchanged between the kid and Simon, and I can't help thinking I'm the only one missing pieces of the story. But the discord might come from the fact I watched Enzo kill two men.
I take a breath.
But Simon beats me to it.
"There are bedrooms upstairs, the main and two guest rooms. Plus, a bed in the study downstairs." He looks at me with a gaze that is so flat it could be innocent, but I take it as unreadable. "Lyndall and you can take a guest room each. I will be talking with Enzo."
"Have at it. I'm sure he's more talkative with you." And I push past him and head in.
It is modern but not overly impressive on the outside, like a neo take on the houses around here. I probably should know the style, but I couldn't care.
Inside is wealth.
It is a smart home, from the door that slides shut behind me to the furniture in the living room. The windows are shuttered, and it looks like luxury smart hiding the soul of a prison fortress.
Lyndall sits on the first of the stairs that lead up. "He has an elevator, like Enzo. And his fridge talks to you. The lights like to come on when you enter a dim. I bet they will do what they're told if you speak to them."
"Like Siri or Alexa?" Then I shake my head. "Come on, I will let you choose the bedroom."
The light, at least, is soft and golden.
We gather her stuff, Lyndall holding the violin case close as we climb the stairs.
She takes the guest room at the far end, away from all the others, and puts her stuff down, only putting some clothes in the drawers.
It looks like she has done this before.
Or maybe it is what boarding school does. I don't really know.
She pulls back the quilt and inspects the sheets. "Fresh. Good quality." Then she plumps a pillow. "So...are you going to be sleeping with Enzo?"
My cheeks heat.
The girl looks at me, and I try to find words. But I can't because, honestly, I have no idea.
"You know what, Lola? There's a daybed right there." She points at the extra-long and comfy-looking chaise longue. "We can switch off each night. You know, take turns. That way I won't have to be alone."
My heart breaks. "I will sit with you until you go to sleep. There are enough beds for everyone. I can take the other guest room and let the guys fight out who gets the other rooms."
"Enzo can take the one in the study." Lyndall pulls some PJs from her backpack, along with a toiletry bag, and hurries off to the ensuite, only partly closing the door. Over the running water, she continues, "He probably deserves it."
When she comes back in, she asks the lights to dim, speaking to whatever app. Clearly, she has worked it out...or read the note that I just spy on the bedside table. It is thoughtful, but it makes me want to laugh at the low-tech instructions for using the high-tech cutting-edge system.
"I'm exhausted," she jumps into bed with the energy of someone not at all exhausted. "So, how did you meet my brother? I think you're prettier in person, you know?"
"Did you see a picture of me?" She said something about that when we met.
But she pulls the covers up. "Everyone has pictures. Are you his girlfriend?"
"No, I'm not. We all used to know each other when you were a teeny thing."
She sniffs. "You wouldn't have been much bigger."
But I don't really want to talk about those times when things went from happy to isolated, all because of her father.
I change the subject to ask her about school, and she tells me all about the classes and how she wants to be a rock star violinist. Or just a soloist. She would take first chair.
"First chair?"
"Top dog in the violin section in an orchestra." She grins. "I'm aiming for a scholarship at Juilliard. But Dad..."
Her grin dies. "He likes to hold that over me to make me behave. And now...after catching me with Luke...I don't think he will let me go."
I hate the man, I do.
I know my father wasn't exactly innocent, but I didn't deserve to be turned into a pariah, and Lyndall doesn't deserve to have her dreams taken away.
"You can do what you want. You know that. I would wait until I was eighteen, but...yeah... And if you're good enough, a scholarship will be waiting for you."
"If Enzo asks you to be his girl, say yes. I know he can be a dick sometimes, but his heart's good, and it is in the right place."
"He's not going to."
"Enzo probably thinks you're out of his league."
I laugh at her misdirected fierceness. "I don't think so."
"But he's decent, honestly. And he looks after me a lot. I asked if I could move in, and he's trying to make that happen. Most single dudes wouldn't want a kid hanging around. But he does."
I nod.
It is clear Enzo loves her, and why wouldn't he? Lyndall is a great girl. But her father must be horrible if she wants that.
"What about your father? Doesn't he do a lot for you too?"
"If you call boarding school against my will a lot, then yes." Her shoulders slump as she shakes her head. "Honestly, I don't think Dad would care or notice if I stopped existing."
"I don't think that can be true." I scoot up the bed to hug her fiercely.
But it could be.
And I hate him more now for how he treats his daughter.
Enzo is in the kitchen with his computer open, drinking whiskey, a frown etched into his face.
"Lyndall's asleep." I wait.
But all he does is cast a glance at me, going back to his computer.
I bite back a heaving sigh. "Enzo."
"Yeah?"
I pull out a chair and sit at the table. "Want to explain to me what happened tonight?"
"You were there."
I grit my teeth. "Who were those men?"
"No idea. They didn't have ID on them."
I tap my hand on the tabletop. "Given your impressive hacking abilities and computer skills, I'm not buying that you don't know who those men were. I need you to be honest with me."
He hesitates. "I don't know exactly who they are. Yet."
"There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"
He types some more, then he finally stops and looks at me. "You're not going to like hearing the truth, Lola."
"Tell me."
"I don't know who they are, but I know someone hired them. I found a post on a site on the dark web looking for someone to make a hit."
"A hit?"
He nods. "On you."
My blood turns cold. "On me? Kill me?"
"There are different hits, so I don't know. The amount offered is on the high end of a kidnap job and the low end of a kill job."
A numbness spreads through me.
I don't ask how he knows that.
"But from what I found out, your father had an outstanding debt, and whoever it is, is intent on collecting. And I think what's owed for that bet is..." He shakes his head and looks me in the eye. "You."
"Me?" My voice rises an octave. "That makes no sense. Why now? Why didn't they come for me right after my father died?"
"I don't have those answers," he says noncommittally.
"How the hell do you even know this? Any of it?"
Enzo shrugs. "You said so yourself, my hacking skills are impeccable. Just trust me that I'm telling you the truth."
It is so surreal that I roll my eyes. "I'm not sure I said impeccable—"
"It was implied. The point is you now know everything I know."
"I'm not sure I believe you."
"Maybe not. Be that as it may, I am telling you the truth." He shuts down his computer and closes it, then gets to his feet.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"I have to call my father. He's going to have a fit when he learns this happened."
I almost ask him if maybe his father was behind it, but even if Lyndall's spot on about how her father feels, the man loves Enzo. I always knew that, saw that.
"What—" I stop.
"What?" he asks.
And I wince, shaking my head.
I almost spilled Lyndall's beans, and they are not mine to spill. Plus, I promised her not to tell Enzo.
And now he is studying me a little too closely. "Out with it. What are you hiding?"
"Nothing, just remembered some girl talk with your sister."
His eyes narrow. "If you're hiding something, I will find out what it is. From my father, because she ran away for a reason. You stay here. I'm calling."
Shit.