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I speed up—out of desperation and panic.
“What the hell are you doing?” Aidan says. He’s shaken and pushed backwards by the sudden change of speed. “Hell, you’re trying to get caught by the highway patrol. Nice try! Slice the woman’s neck.” He gives the command to Fernando.
Then a knife is pointed at Mama.
“Don’t! Please!” I cry.
“I like it when you beg—I mean, when you really mean it. Slow down,” Aidan orders me.
I step on the brake gently, making sure I’m not attracting attention.
“I will see every single move that your Mama makes. Now, you will do as I say, won’t you?”
I huff. “Fine. Just don’t hurt her.”
“You’ll listen to me?”
I nod.
“Say it!”
“I’ll listen to you.”
“Good girl,” he says, and then tells Fernando to gag Mama again and continue with his drive. Then he stops the video.
“Exit here.” Aidan orders me to leave the Pacific Coast Highway and go inland. After driving for about an hour, we hit an off-road track.
“Stop.”
I stop the car.
“Now, as I’m sure you’ve been despondently trying to do, you may call your lovely Rob.” Handing me his cell, he notices my calculating look. “Ah, it’s just a prepaid phone. I’ll throw this away as soon as you’re done. And you won’t have time to let anyone track our location.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You’re starting to sound domesticated. I like it. I’ll tell you what to say. Be very careful.” He draws the knife this time and places the sharp side of the blade across my face.
30
ROB
Where the hell is he taking Amber-Rose?
After following the tire marks on the road where my back entrance leads to, I’ve been driving around hopelessly. The security cameras don’t show anything besides Aidan dragging Officer Cooper into the police car, and then dragging Amber-Rose to the east of my estate. After the turn, the camera lost them.
The LAPD has distributed Aidan’s and Amber-Rose’s photos to their units around California. They’ve also alerted the authorities at the Mexican border, anticipating that Aidan might take her there, since he was spotted in Tijuana before all this started.
I’m taking my trusty Wrangler Rubicon, in case Aidan decides to take Amber-Rose to the mountains or through the forests.
“Dave,” I call my bodyguard. “Anything?”
“Not yet, Mr. Hartley.”
Suddenly I receive an incoming video call.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go.” I answer the unknown call nervously.
The video shows a blurry thumb and fingers at first as the caller places the phone somewhere steady. It’s in a car. Then it focuses on the driver’s seat.
