“Nothing. I’m trying to avoid anything happening. Which means the safest place for you right now is the house,” he says.
“Wait.” I pause. “Where is Jake?”
“Probably at work.”
“He’s okay?” I’m pulling my phone from my pocket, about to call him, when my father snatches it out of my hand.
“He’s fine. I’ve got men positioned at his building.”
“You promise?” I ask.
“Promise. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure nothing happens to the little shit. Come on. We need to leave.”
“Okay.” I know there is no point arguing with my father. This isn’t the first or the last time he’s dragged me out of somewhere and insisted on locking us all down.
There is a car waiting for us at the valet section. And about twenty men surrounding us.
I look to my dad. “Is all of this really necessary?”
“Your safety, there is no expense I would spare for it, Jazzy,” he says, holding the car door open.
I’m about to get in when the sounds of gunfire deafen my ears. Then I’m being forced to the ground. It’s like déjà vu. Except it’s not just a feeling. Thishashappened before. I was six at the time and didn’t really understand what was going on.
My dad’s body is covering mine as he yells orders at his men. He looks down at my face. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to reassure me or himself. “I’m okay,” I repeat.
“Get in the car and stay down.” My father pulls me to my feet and places me in the back of the car before closing the door.
“What? Wait.” I try to open the door but it’s locked. I breathe a sigh of relief when my father slides into the front seat.
He looks at the driver. I scream when he pulls his gun out and shoots the guy right in the head.
“Sorry, princess. Close your eyes.” Dad opens the door and pushes the body out before slamming it closed again. The wheels spin as he speeds down the Strip, weaving in and out of traffic. He glances up into the rear-view mirror. “Put your seat belt on!”
“You put your seat belt on!” I throw back at him. I’m still in shock.
It’s not until we’re pulling into my parents’ estate that I start to breathe properly. Antonia runs out of the house, yanking the back door open. She pulls me out of the car and hugs me so tight I think she might break a rib.
“What the fuck, Carlo? Again?” she yells at my dad.
“She’s okay. She’s here. Get inside,” he says. “Where are the boys?”
“They’re in the basement.”
“Take Jazzy inside.” Dad strides away and then stops. Turning around, he walks over to me and pulls me into his chest. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“W-why did you shoot him?” I ask.
“He wasn’t one of our men, Jazzy. I don’t know who he was, but he wasn’t one of ours.” Dad presses a kiss to my forehead before he walks off. And I know he’s going to figure out what the hell just happened and who attacked us.
The Court. Jake, oh god…
“I need to call Jake,” I tell Antonia.
“You can’t. Not yet. It’s not safe for him or you to be together right now,” she says. “Just wait it out.”
“I’m not waiting anything out!” I storm into the house and run up the stairs to my childhood bedroom.