Page 93 of PET

Theclockonthedash tells me I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes, and nothing concrete has come of me following this jackass. Mr. Veradin has brought his new girlfriend to The Commons—nothing but luxury shops as far as the eye can see. I catch glimpses of them between stores, though. Her eyes are full of stars while her new guy who’s loaded stalks behind her carrying bags from places like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Versace, and Prada.

And it doesn’t seem like she’s giving up soon.

This is the most boring stake-out I’ve ever done. Not that I’ve done many before, but fuck… Grabbing my phone to play a game while I wait for the spoiled princess to finish shopping, I’m surprised to find a text from my mother.

Ma: We’re home, Zeke, and would like to see you.

I sit straight up, re-reading the text several times to make sure I read what I actually fucking read before I press the call button and put it on speaker. She answers almost immediately.

“Zeke, where are you?”

“I’m, um, at The Commons. When did you guys get home?” I ask to move the conversation along because I don’t want to explain to her why I’ll be coming home without any bags when I just told her where I was.

“This morning. So, as you can imagine, we were quite surprised to find out that you haven’t been staying here—for several days. What’s going on, Zeke?”

I groan, rubbing a hand over my tired face. “You’re asking me that now? Where haveyouguys been for weeks?!”

Silence answers me for a moment before her sigh breaks it. “Come home and we’ll tell you where we’ve been. It’s not safe to say over the phone in case—”

“Connie, not on the phone!”My dad’s voice barks from the background.

Now I’m really wondering what the hell is going on. When I look through the windshield, there’s no sign of Mr. Veradin and his mistress, but his car is still parked two rows up. I’m guessing this entire day is full of shopping and expensive meals, so there’s no point in staying here, right? Besides, my parents are home and it sounds like they’ve got some serious information—hopefully something I can take back to the bunker with.

“I’ll be home in about twenty minutes,” I tell them just as my phone dings at me.

Pulling it away from my ear, I glance at the screen and the flashing battery that tells me my phone is about to die. I look for a charging cord in the dash but find none. Christian has only had this car for a few days, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t have one. Shit.

When I hang up on her, I throw Christian a text letting him know what’s going on, and when I try to text Billie a similar message, my phone dies before I get the chance.

“Fuck!”

I toss my phone in the passenger seat and back out of my parking space, heading toward the highway. I’m not sure what’s happening with Christian at the moment, but at least I know Billie’s safe back at the bunker with Dana. I’ll make this quick with my parents and get back to her, though.

When I pull into my driveway and park near my matte black BMW, I feel like I haven’t driven in days.Soon, baby, soon.And as soon as I get out of the car, my mom is rushing across the black tar driveway straight for me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She smells like her expensive perfume—a scent that I’ve forgotten until now because they’ve been gone for so long.

“Decided to finally come home and see your son, huh?” I ask, getting a scolding glare when she holds me at arm’s length.

“I wanted to come home sooner, but we couldn’t.”

I snort. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t? The South of France is so great you can’t even stay in contact with me?” Now I’m the one scolding her because this is bullshit. They’ve been gone for months with very little contact. The only updates I ever got on them were through Farrah, who didn’t seem to know much herself.

“We did what we had to do for your protection,” my father answers for her when he walks onto the front steps.

Turning my glare on him, I step away from Mom and ask, “Protection? From who? From what? It would be nice to know who I’m supposed to be afraid of and—”

He looks around as if someone might be listening to our every word. “Not out here. Come inside and we’ll explain everything.”

I could tell them to get bent and take off like they did to me, but I won’t get any answers that way. And I’m also not twelve years old. Moving away from my mother, I head inside the familiar home I haven’t been to in days and head for my father’s study. They’re right behind me, shutting us in.

My father takes the high-back, leather chair behind his desk, nodding at the chair in front of it. But I’m not sitting. If I sit, he has the upper hand.

“I can listen from here,” I tell him.

With a frown, my mother stands behind him with a solemn expression on her face. I’m waiting for them to talk when the door opens and Farrah rushes in with a tray of tea and two cups on it for my parents. And when she sees me, her eyes twinkle, completely ignoring my parents as if they can pour their own damn tea.

“My sweet-boy! Where have you been?” she asks, moving to me to brush my unruly hair from my forehead. “Looks—andsmells—like you could use a shower, young man. Finish up in here and head up to your room. Once you’re fresh and clean, find me in the kitchen and I’ll have your favorite lunch prepared.”

I’m about to tell her I don’t have time for any of that when my father snaps at her. “That’s all, Farrah. We’re trying to have a private family meeting here.”

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