Page 41 of Drawn to You
“He’s taking her to see a place near where he lives. I don’t know the exact location, but he says it’s on Sunset and near a Wendy’s.”
“I know where it is. When did they leave?”
“At seven? Ten minutes ago?” he says.
“Shit.” I could’ve stopped them if I had gone up instead of waiting here like an idiot. I call Brittney right away, but she doesn’t answer. And then I text her.Where are you?
“What’s the emergency?” Darrell asks when I’m about to walk back to my car.
“I don’t trust the fucker, it’s all,” I say, glaring at him even though it isn’t his fault.
“Well, the guy isn’t that bad,” he says. “He wants to hire Brittney and me for his music video.”
“What are you talking about?”
Darrell hesitates for a moment before he lets me know the rest. “It isn’t a done deal yet. He just has the thoughts. Brittney didn’t tell you that?”
“No,” I say, feeling anxious. What’s between the two of them? Clearly, Mason has his eye on my girl. My girl. Shit. She isn’t mine, is she?
My phone chimes. A message is coming in.
It’s Brittney. I check it quickly. Fuck. My blood pressure goes through the roof. “He’s taking her to his house,” I say to Darrell. “Do you know where he lives?”
When he hesitates, I remind him I have Mason’s address on file, but it saves me time to go up and check.
He shrugs and gives me the address. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” I say and get in my car.
I call Connor to let him know I can’t make it to dinner, and then I drive toward Beverly Hills.
I turn on to Doheny Road, a street full of mega-mansions. The traffic is light. I slow my speed, although I’m anxious to get to Brittney. I look out the window anxiously to look for the house according to the address Darrell gave me.
Following my GPS’s instruction, I stop in front of a house shielded behind heavy hedges. I park and walk toward the gate. I press the button of the intercom and hear a woman’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Hi, My name is Andrew Adams, and I’m here to see Mr. Meyer.”
“He’s busy,” the woman answers. “He tells me no calls or visitors.”
Damn.
I observe Mason’s property through the gate. The place is enormous; the yard feels at least five times as large as mine. His conspicuous Lamborghini is parking in the driveway. The first floor of Mason’s two-story contemporary house is well illuminated with no blind or curtain. Even from a distance, I can see the interior through the glass. No one is in the living room. The second floor is dark, and I can’t see anything. My heart clenches Brittney. Where the hell are you?
That reminds me. I pull out my phone to call her. While locating her number, I see a man and a woman walk out of the house toward the back of the property. I can’t see them clearly, but I know from the shapes of their bodies, they’re Brittney and Mason. His arm is draping around her shoulders as they walk.
My blood boils. Brittney is walking with an unsteady gait and is leaning into the jerk. Something is wrong. “Hey, Britt! Brittney!” I call, but my voice must be small from such a distance.
They continue to walk. Damn. Frantically, I dial Brittney’s number, but the call goes to her voice mail.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and look around for a way to get into the property. There’s a security camera right on top of the gate, and it isn’t possible to sneak in from here. I might get caught before even attempting.
I walk in front of the property, along the endless hedges, and finally reach a breakpoint. Next to it is a path that leads to the back of the property, which is again guarded by a fence. Since the fence isn’t that tall, I climb over it, fully aware that there might be a camera watching me.
I run across the immense lawn in the direction Brittney and Mason went. There is a backhouse that looks like a cottage behind some trees. Damn. It’s a goddamn park here. There is even a creek running through the yard! I couldn’t cross it without soaking my shoes.
But I don’t care. All I know is Brittney is in danger. I can’t let that wolf put his paws on my girl. My girl. Yes. Why didn’t I realize it sooner that Brittney was mine? She wanted me, and I wanted her. Why did I make up so many excuses not to have her? Now it’s too late. Fuck. If something happened to her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Please, God. Please. Don’t let anything bad happen to Brittney.
