Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2)

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Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2) Page 4

by Bronwyn Archer


  Alexander’s phone beeped. Another call was coming in from someone named GRETCHEN with a 212 number.

  “I have to go.” My throat got tight. “I’ll call you when we land.”

  “Stay alive. Just stay alive.”

  My finger hovered above the answer button. What if it was his girlfriend? What would she say when she heard my voice? What would she have to be jealous of? You?

  I dropped the phone in my lap and buried my head in my hands. My father had known my mother’s true identity for ten years. Another decision he’d made trying to “protect” me. Meanwhile, he’d been oblivious to his new wife plotting to get her hands on my mother’s secret fortune.

  Worst of all, I’d been adopted by the most vile woman alive. He’d let her adopt me.

  A sudden cold, creeping fear wormed its way up my spine. I carefully scanned the lobby. They’re not here. You have to calm down. I slumped down and stared out at the boundless clear sky stretching over infinite desert.

  America was enormous. I was small.

  Maybe they wouldn’t find me if I kept moving. Kept driving.

  It was only the second week of summer break. I was supposed to be getting ready for college. Looking for a new summer job. Shopping for dorm supplies. Shower caddies. Extra-long sheets.

  My head hurt. Graduation felt like a hundred years ago. The beautiful handmade gown I’d worn was burned to ashes along with everything else. Maya had texted Alexander photos of the charred wreckage.

  My old life was over.

  A new, thrilling, slightly terrifying one had begun.

  #

  Alexander stood at the concierge desk talking on the hotel’s phone. The girl at the desk stared up at him with a stupid grin on her face. She was a pretty, polished brunette in a sleeveless white blouse.

  I decided I’d waited long enough.

  I jumped up and walked across the polished concrete floor.

  Alexander handed the phone back to the girl. “Thanks, Jordan, appreciate all the help.”

  She smiled up at him. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Ambrose.”

  I cleared my throat and held out his cell phone. “Good news. You have my dad’s permission to take me to New York.” Jordan stared at me as Alexander took his phone back. I smiled back at her. It was sort of hilarious seeing how other women reacted to him. Don’t gloat. You’re worse than she is.

  Without saying a word, he took his phone, grabbed my arm, and led me away to a corner of the lobby.

  Something had gone wrong.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. He stopped in front of one of the huge picture windows.

  Then, I heard the unmistakable roar of a supercar’s engine. That high-pitched whine. Panic welled up and I turned to look outside.

  A massive cloud of dust obscured the solitary winding road that led up to the hotel. The wind shifted, revealing a long line of race cars. There were at least twenty, of every color and make.

  “What is THIS?” I asked.

  “It’s the convention. Something called the Gumball Rally. A bunch of European billionaires trying to out-douchebag each other by racing across the country. A bunch of them got here late last night and woke me up, actually.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So listen, I have good news and bad news.”

  My stomach clenched. “Oh no.”

  He leaned towards me and I could smell his warm skin. “Well, the good news is your stepmother is just fine! Healthy as a horse.”

  “How do you know?” I whispered.

  “That’s the bad news. She asked the local police to find her ‘missing stepdaughter.’ And it looks like they did.”

  Blood drained out of my face. She’d found me. Oh my God.

  “But if she knows where I am, we have to leave RIGHT NOW!”

  He grabbed my hand as I backed away from him.

  “Lana, we can’t do that. The police are on their way right now. You can tell them everything and they can go after Victor. He’ll stop hounding you. You won’t have to live in fear like this. It’ll be over.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand! You don’t know her. She’ll get them to send me back to her.”

  “You’re eighteen. They can’t send you back to her against your will.”

  My newly formed backbone of steel started to soften. Ramona had that effect on me. I pulled my hat down low and tried not to break down in the middle of the hotel lobby.

  His eyebrows knit together and put his hands on my shoulders. “Why are you so afraid of her?”

  I shrugged his hands off me. “I told you, she wants to kill me!”

  “Literally kill?”

  “Yes, literally! Ramona Crawford is Victor’s niece.” His mouth fell open.

  “Really? Okay, all the more reason to get the police involved.”

  He didn’t understand. The police would lead her right to me. Maybe I could steal his keys and drive off. I knew how to drive his car. He tried to take my hand again but I pulled it away. The green breakfast smoothie churned in my stomach. Spa food, Vicodin, and the threat of imminent death at the hands of my psycho ex-stepmother did not mix. My head spun.

  “I’m a little nauseous. I’ll be right back.”

  “Meet me back in the lobby, and hurry.”

  I almost knocked down a housekeeper as I rounded the corner to the bathroom off the lobby. I willed myself not to throw up in front of the young hipster couple who stared at me as I ran past them.

  I ducked into the bathroom and skidded into a stall just in time. I fell to my knees and emptied my stomach into the most beautiful toilet I’d ever barfed in.

  When I was done, I sat back to catch my breath. Something hadn’t made sense. Why would Ramona call the police? She wouldn’t want me to rat her out. She was taking a major risk contacting the police, but maybe she knew I had no proof she’d done anything illegal. After all, on paper she was still my stepmother. My adopted mother, in fact.

  But couldn’t track me down on her own. She’d need someone who had access to hotel records, car license plates, police databases.

  My brain screamed. Wade Jenner. Could he have been the one on the phone with Alexander? Was it another one of her tricks?

  I froze as the main door to the bathroom swung open. Heels clicked on the polished concrete floor and someone went into the other stall.

  I left my stall and cleaned myself up at the sink.

  Something clattered to the floor behind me and I turned to look.

  A cell phone spun out from under the occupied stall. It came to a stop at my feet.

  I bent down and picked the phone up. It had a leopard-print case.

  The woman in the stall cursed angrily.

  At least, it sounded like she cursed.

  Because she spoke in what sounded a lot like Russian.

  I turned the phone over and saw a text message open on the screen.

  Virgin Air 1260 Vegas 2 NYC

  Time slowed down. The toilet flushed. An alarm bell deep in my brain started blaring. Icy chills descended down my spine.

  I stared, paralyzed in horror as the door to the stall swung open.

  Nastia stepped out of the stall and took a step forward. She wore skin-tight white jeans and a cropped white leather racing jacket covered in various chains and buckles. Her long strawberry blond hair hung in mermaid waves around her shoulders and her makeup was caked on as thick as ever.

  Before I could move, she snatched the phone from my hand.

  “Dank you,” she rasped in thickly accented English. I ducked my head so the lid of my hat obscured most of my face. She doesn’t recognize you. Do not panic. Do not run.

  Trying to act casual, I turned to the sink and washed my hands again.

  But I forgot about the mirror. Our eyes met in the reflection. Her eyes widened and then raked down my body to my chest.

  My hand flew up to my exposed pendant, which was swinging freely as I bent over the sink. I quickly tucked it into my shirt, but it was too late.
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  Her mouth curled into a glittering red smile.

  Okay, NOW run!

  I leaped to the door, pulling it open so hard it slammed into the opposite wall with a tremendous bang. I raced back to the lobby on legs that felt like wilted celery stalks.

  Alexander was casually sitting next to our bags, chatting on his phone.

  “We have to go! Now! Come on!” I grabbed my backpack and frantically tugged at his arm.

  “I have to call you back,” he said into his phone, then shoved it into his pocket. “Lana, relax! The police are going to be here any second.”

  Any second, SHE would be here.

  “They’re here! In the hotel!” He stared at me like I was crazy.

  “The police?”

  “Nastia! She’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “Victor’s girlfriend! We have to go NOW!”

  “What?!” His face turned to stone. He shouldered his bag and mine, clasped my hand in a tight grip, and we ran.

  #

  I didn’t breathe until we were in the parking lot and found his silver Aston Martin Vanquish. I’d last seen it at Jack London State Park, where I’d been working my job as a valet parker. A drunk guy had hit me in it. I’d gotten fired. He’d witnessed the whole episode.

  That was just last week. That happened last week.

  It felt like a thousand years ago.

  More race cars sped up the long, narrow road towards the hotel. Alexander threw our bags into the backseat and I jumped into the passenger seat.

  “Get us out of here!” I screamed.

  The tires squealed as he pulled out of the spot. As we raced away, we passed dozens of exotics—Buggatis, Porsches, Ferraris, other rare supercars I’d never seen before—and Lamborghinis in every color.

  And then, the bright yellow Lamborghini Aventador with SAVITCH 1 plates. Next to it was the matching black one with SAVITCH 2 plates. The black one was streaked in orange dust.

  “That’s Victor’s. So’s that one.”

  “Double Lambos?”

  “Yep.”

  “A double douchebag. Your seatbelt on?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. I’m putting this thing in Track mode. Hold on!” He pushed the gear shifter to T and lowered his foot on the gas. The Vanquish leapt forward like a rocket as we blasted down the long sloping road away from the hotel.

  Chapter 5

  Lacus Spei ~ Lake of Hope

  The only flaw in the otherwise perfect Aston Martin Vanquish is the gas mileage. Our escape from the Amangiri was only twenty minutes old before we had to pull into an ancient one-pump gas station.

  Blazing sun beat down on the car as Alexander filled the tank. I slid out of my seat, walked to the edge of the gas station, and squinted in the bright light. My adrenaline overdose evaporated in the heat, leaving me exhausted. Endless desert stretched in every direction and hot gusts of wind blew across the curving one-lane highway running back to the hotel.

  I just wanted to go back to sleep. To forget to be scared.

  To forget I was being hunted like an animal.

  I leaned against the back of the car and the metal seared my skin through my jeans. A deep-throated engine purred in the distance and my breath caught. A Murcielago painted in white and black zebra stripes passed by, heading towards the Amangiri.

  I shuddered. Eventually a yellow or black Lamborghini would be behind us and it would start all over again.

  “Can you get back in the car, please?” He was right. What was I doing? I got in and put my seatbelt back on. He started the engine and handed me his phone.

  “Get me directions to the 15.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the place they keep the airplanes.”

  I gasped. “Vegas?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are we flying Virgin Airlines?”

  “How’d you know?”

  I stared dumbly at his phone. “Nastia knows our flight number! She knows the airline. They’ll be waiting.”

  He looked around dramatically. “Well, I don’t see anyone else on the road heading to Vegas. Unless he has a helicopter, we’re probably going to be fine.”

  “He has a whole bunch of guys who work for him! I’m telling you, we can’t go to Vegas.”

  He sighed. “If you’re that upset, I can try to get us on a different flight. Which might mean we have to stay overnight.” He adjusted the rearview window. “Lana, no one can do anything to you in an airport. It’s crawling with cops.”

  “Then they’ll be on the plane—or at the gate in New York! You don’t get it! I am not going back to Las Vegas!”

  His jaw muscles tightened. His eyes were hidden behind his dark sunglasses and he didn’t say a word. The terror of running from Arkady hit me full force. I started sweating and my pulse shot up. Why was I even involved in this? Cops and Russian mafia and guys with knives chasing after me? I’d never even stolen a pack of gum. I was also humiliated that all my father’s dirty laundry was exposed. Through Alexander’s eyes, I must have seemed like a giant pile of white trash dysfunction.

  I hated him seeing me like that.

  He grabbed his phone and started typing until a calm woman’s voice spoke. “Okay, directions to Las Vegas. In sixty-eight miles, turn left onto Highway 389.”

  I glared at him, speechless, but he stared straight ahead. The sun coming in through the window illuminated his profile.

  “You have to take me someplace else! Anywhere but the airport!” Hot tears bit my cheeks. The desert flew by in a blur. He sped up behind a semi-truck and veered in front of it.

  “I’m not an Uber driver, Lana. Where would you like me to drive you?”

  “You got a doctor to a hotel in the middle of nowhere! Can’t we find a different way to New York?” He ran a hand through his hair and I sensed his eyes rolling behind his sunglasses. “Please. I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

  He snorted. “You don’t have to try, you are trouble.”

  He hated me. I suddenly felt the full weight of his burden. I was the burden. My cheeks burned and I chewed my lip, trying to think of a way out.

  “Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

  His hand got tighter on the wheel. “Now you’re making me feel like I am kidnapping you. When I agreed to take you to New York, I didn’t plan on a three-day trip through the desert chasing after a teenage girl. And now you want me to find a private jet at a magical invisible airport somewhere? Look, I have to get you across the country by Monday and my options are kind of limited right now, okay?” He sounded exasperated. His phone rang. “I have to take this. Don’t say anything, okay?” He put a wireless earbud in his ear and pressed a button on his phone.

  “Hello? Oh, hello! Yes, she’s good. We’re on our way to the airport now.”

  There was a long pause. He cursed under his breath. I watched him quietly. “Why?” Another pause. “Okay, I understand. We’ll be there then. Thanks, Severine.”

  Severine! Georgette’s caretaker. The one who’d sent Alexander to find me. Alexander threw the phone onto the center console. The fairy tale in my head crumbled a bit more. I braced myself for bad news. Change of plans. They made a mistake. It’s not you. He’ll take you home, tell you to forget this ever happened.

  “Is everything okay?” He slammed on the brakes, veered across the highway, and pulled up hard on the shoulder. Rocks and dust flew as the car jerked to a stop.

  “Stay here,” he snapped.

  He got out and walked away from the road out into the desert until he was surrounded by a sea of orange sand. He stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. The golden late afternoon light lit him up from behind so he was in silhouette.

  All his edges gleamed as he paced back and forth.

  His faded jeans hugged his butt and legs and his shirt was open at the neck just enough for me to admire his chest. I forced myself to stop ogling him and stay mad at him. I hadn’t asked for this! I’d never asked for any of
this. Was I the one insisting on some stupid trip to New York? Why did I even need to be at the stupid meeting?

  Hadn’t these people ever heard of email?

  I shoved the car door open and got out. His head snapped to attention and he glared at me. I marched toward him while picking my way around short prickly cactus plants and various menacing-looking snake holes. I stopped a few feet away from him and planted my hands on my hips.

  “Well? What did Severine say? Or is this a tantrum because I don’t want to be hand-delivered to the assassins planning to kill me at the airport?”

  He sighed. “The meeting with Georgette’s trustee got pushed back.” Pushed back. Not cancelled. In my head, I patched my crumbling sandcastle’s turrets.

  There was still hope.

  “Until when?”

  “Week from tomorrow.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It complicates things. Sorry, I’m not mad at you. Well, I am mad at you, but not because of this. I just—I didn’t plan on—” He looked up at me and scowled. My cheeks burned. Of course he’s mad at you! He has a life, a job, probably a harem of supermodel girlfriends to get back to. You have nothing and no one to get back to.

  “Got it. You didn’t plan on getting stuck babysitting me all week in New York.” I didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in my voice. I kicked a clod of dirt and it exploded softly, coating my sneaker in a film of orange dust.

  “Lana—”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, a little too brightly. “I’ll go back to Sonoma and stay at my friend Maya’s house. I’ll fly to New York next week—you don’t even have to go. Pretty sure I can get myself on an airplane.”

  “Except you can’t,” he retorted.

  “Not when the hitman knows my flight number I can’t! But don’t worry—I know this little adventure has already taken up way too much of your time.”

  He stared at me with his mouth open. “You want to bail? I left you alone for five minutes, and Nastasha or whatever her name is showed up.”

  I crossed my arms. “Hey, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me! You saved my life, and I owe you for that. But you now have my permission to quit as my escort across the country! I can take care of myself from here!”

 

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