you this weekend as soon as I told them. Couldn’t really avoid it.”
She nodded, gazing down at her tightly folded hands. “No worries. I get it.”
“How did your parents react?”
She hesitated in answering and I threw her a follow-up glance. Surely she’d told them… But it was still unclear exactly what her family situation was. She didn’t seem close to them at all and I was once again curious. Maybe she hadn’t even bothered to tell them?
She cleared her throat. “I haven’t heard back from them yet.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “You, ah… you emailed them the news?”
“Something like that.”
Wow. I threw her a sidelong glance, determined to get her to fess up about this. But now wasn’t the time. She glanced at me, then turned to look out the window.
When I opened my mouth to reply to her, she beat me to it. “I miss the trees sometimes,” she said out of nowhere.
“I beg your pardon?”
She turned to look at me. “The only big trees here are palms. They are everywhere, of course. And they fit in here, but I miss the trees in the Pacific Northwest. There’s just something about them—firs, maples, birch. It’s so brown here in the summer. But that’s the greenest season in the PNW.”
I kept my eyes on the road. “I grew up here. I’m used to it.”
“So do your parents still live in the house you grew up in?”
One of them, I thought, but I only nodded in response. Again, the less info I spilled about all this, probably the better.
I exited the freeway and wound down the familiar thoroughfares and byways, ending on a two-lane highway. That road led to one of the gated communities that made up Coto de Caza, nestled up against the dry hills and the canyons of Southern California back country.
We wound our way up the hill from the freeway through not one but two guard stations. If she didn’t freak out now, then we’d probably be good for the rest of the night.
Chapter 8
Katya
He was subtle, but I noticed that he threw the occasional glance my way as we exited the freeway. The car followed a twisty two-lane road that wound high into the hills. Was he testing my reactions? I made sure to drink in my surroundings but keep any inner responses low-key.
But that was getting a little more challenging to do as we made our way to the first gate. It was automated. Lucas pulled out a metallic card from behind the car’s sun visor and waved it past the machine. An automated gate slid aside to allow the car entrance.
The homes we passed were large and beautiful with carefully maintained front yards and expensive cars in the driveway. It was a quiet and rather snooty-looking neighborhood—fountains, statues and fancy topiaries in practically every front yard. There were homes like this in the richer parts of Vancouver, but I’d never found myself in or even near any of them.
But the real nerves—the sweaty palms and the racing heartbeat—kicked in when we hit the second gate within the first gated community. And this one was manned by several uniformed guards. Like the freakin’ Tower of London or something.
Lucas braked and lowered his driver-side window. “Van den Hoehnsboek van Lynden.”
After angling a camera at the car and scanning in the license plate, one of the guards nodded. His white military-style hat bobbed up and down in the late afternoon sunlight. “Of course.” And he let us through the gate.
Well just… holy crap. Where the hell were we going now? We were running out of hill to climb.
If possible, these homes easily topped the other beautiful homes we’d just passed.
And they definitely should be labeled mansions by any and all who had ever been introduced to the concept of what a mansion was. Adam and Mia’s place would fit in easily here. Of course I was sure they preferred their little private beach on a semi-private island in the back bay but… this view!
I looked out over the lowlands of the cities of south county below us as we ascended further up the hill. For every foot we scaled, the homes increased in size and volume and in value by hundreds of thousands of dollars—or so I guessed.
Wow. They really didn’t want the riff raff getting into their nice little haven, did they? Two different gates… armed guards. How’d these residents get their hands on their yearly fix of Girl Guide cookies in this neighborhood? To say