Page 55 of Little Monster
“Wanna ride with me?” Dex asks, already pulling the Rover fob from his pocket.
It’s tempting, but I don’t want to leave my car here again overnight.
“No, I think I’ll just follow you.”
He tips his head a bit, as if that’s not the answer he was expecting, then shrugs. “Cool. Think you can keep up?” He flashes me a grin, and my stomach sinks a little.
No, I most certainly cannot keep up with his Range Rover in my beloved 2013 Civic. And besides, there’s bumper-to-bumper traffic, so it’s not like we’ll be flying down the freeway.
Dex heads for his sleek black Rover, and I hop into my Civic. My phone dings a second later with a text. It’s his address, and when I put it into my phone, my eyes widen.
I don’t know much about the wealthy parts of LA, but even I’ve heard of the Hollywood Hills. I’m not so sure they’ll even let my car in there.
Dex pulls out of the lot, and I stick close to his Rover. Sure, I have his address, but I’d prefer not to lose sight of him.
Of course, that doesn’t happen. He speeds off at the first opportunity, leaving me glaring out my windshield with a furrowed brow, sitting at yet another red light while his taillights get swallowed up by the traffic in the distance.
Twenty minutes later, I pull off Santa Monica Boulevard and head north, and the homes are already growing exponentially in size. I spot a Range Rover pulled over with its lights on, and as soon as I get close, it pulls out in front of me.
He waited for me after all.
For some reason, that makes me smile.
Dex leads the way through the winding roads, and I try not to rubberneck at all the luxury vehicles and sprawling mansions. We have to go through a gated security stop, and Dex chats with the man in the booth, gesturing back at me. They both turn to look at me, then smile and shake hands. When it’s my turn to pull up, I grip the wheel a little harder, my anxiety kicking in. Are they even going to let me into this place? What if—
“Good evening, Ms. Miller,” the security guard says. He’s huge, and looking at his arms, I’m pretty sure he could bench-press me with one hand tied behind his back. But his smile is quick and bright against his dark skin, and it puts me immediately at ease. “Identification please.”
“S-sure,” I say, reaching into my purse to pull my wallet out. I fumble a bit, hands shaking with nerves, but the man waits patiently as I dig my ID out of the plastic sleeve. “Here you go.”
The man steps back into the security booth, types my information into his computer, and then returns with my ID and some sort of number to hang from my rearview mirror.
“Keep that on your mirror for the duration of your stay. If you expect to be here longer than twenty-four hours, come on back, and we’ll get you a new one. All right?”
“All right.” I take the items from his hands, and he pats the top of my car.
“Have a good night, Ms. Miller.”
“Th-thank you.” I hurriedly slide my ID back into my wallet and hang the numbered placard from my mirror, then continue into the illustrious neighborhood, where I once again find Dex waiting for me.
He drives slower now, coasting along the sweeping roads. The neighborhood is surprisingly populated. I would’ve expected the properties to have a bit more space between them, given they’d all easily go for over a million dollars, but the houses are tight together, as if they all want to keep an eye on one another.
Dex takes a right into a driveway surrounded by tall trees and shrubs, and I pull in after him. There’s no garage, just a modern-looking carport, and he pulls the Rover in on the left.Hesitating, I search the driveway for somewhere else to park my car, but it’s a tight space. Dex walks out of the carport and points to the spot next to his Rover.
I donotwant to park there. The last thing I need is to ding his midnight-black paint job. But he’s staring at me with that lazy smirk, waiting for me to pull in.
Fine.
I inch the Civic carefully—verycarefully—into the spot next to his Range Rover, then open my door the tiniest amount possible to slip out without getting my car door anywhere near his.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the carport, and Dex is there waiting for me.
“You left me behind,” I say, a bit of grumpiness in my tone.
“I knew you’d catch up.”
His smile is easy, unhindered. I imagine his heart isn’t beating near as hard as mine as he leads the way to the ten-foot wrought iron gate surrounding the property. After keying in a code, he swings the gate open and lets me step through first, then brushes past me to unlock the glass door.
“Welcome home,” he says, and I’m quite certain he said it in that breathy voice just to get a rise out of me.
