C. Omololu - Intuition

“I think I’d need a ladder to get up there,” I say, looking at all of the expensive-looking furnishings.

“No you won’t,” Drew says, lifting me up onto the bed and then sinking down beside me. I lean back against the massive pillows and see a window above my head. Drew takes my hand. “Can’t you picture us cruising to the Caribbean, lying here in the darkness and watching the stars rush by over our heads?”

“You’re really going to buy this?”

“Only if you want me to,” he says, his eyes shining. “But think about it: we could just take off anytime to amazing places and keep everything right here with us.” He raises his eyebrows. “There are four other cabins, too. Maybe we’ll just keep our kids out of school and let them use the world as their classroom.”

I sit up so fast I almost hit my head on the headboard. “Kids? What kids?”

Drew puts one hand out and laughs. “Well, not now. But someday. You always said you wanted a big family; wouldn’t this be great for family trips?”

Kids. I don’t remember that from our time together, and I can’t imagine wanting to have kids anytime soon. He’s already years ahead of me. “I guess.” I look around the bedroom and start feeling anxious amid all the expensive furniture and shining glass. “But how much does something like this cost? It’s got to be millions.”

Drew lies back down with his hands clasped behind his head. “Doesn’t matter. What’s the use of having money if you can’t do anything fun with it?”

I cross my legs on top of the comforter, knowing I’m totally out of my depth. “But think of what you can do with that kind of money. The people you could help with the millions that it would cost to buy this thing.”

He looks over at me. “This ‘thing’ is something I thought we could share. A place where we could start our lives together.” He rolls over and traces his hand along my thigh. “You still think I’m just some selfish Khered, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t think that,” I say, but I’m not convincing either of us.

“Look. I pay my share of taxes. More than my share. You won’t catch me with some sneaky offshore accounting—I pay every dime I owe. And I support plenty of charities, like most of the Khered I know. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t use some of the rest of the money for things that give us pleasure.” He pauses. “Plus, just think of all of the people we’re supporting if we buy this yacht.”

“How is buying a million-dollar yacht supporting anyone?”

“Well, there are the boatbuilders and interior designers. And the captain and crew that we’ll have to hire. Not to mention the cook.”

I look around at the cabin that’s twice as big as my room at home. Maybe Drew’s right. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm my heart, to loosen up the tightness in my chest. Maybe I’m reading too much into this—he just wants to buy a beautiful boat for the two of us, and I’m being an old woman about it. And it’s not like he wants to start cranking out kids tomorrow.

“And then there’s Sandoval,” Drew continues. “He gets a massive commission if I buy this boat.” He pulls me down to him, and I can’t help laughing as he pokes me in the side. “He probably thinks we’re down here doing it right this minute.”

“Okay, okay,” I gasp. “I give up. Buy the crazy superyacht.” I lie next to Drew and put one hand up to feel his cheek just as he bends down and gives me a tender kiss.

After a few moments, Drew pulls away and scoots to the end of the bed. “Let’s see the rest of this bad boy before it gets dark.”

He lifts me off the bed and onto the ground. If it were up to him, I’d rely on Drew for everything, including getting in and out of my own bed. Instantly sorry for such a snarky thought, I stand on tiptoe to give him another kiss on the lips just as my phone rings.

“Let it go,” Drew says as I root through my bag looking for it. “This is our night.”

“I can’t,” I say. “I told Janine to call me if anything happens.”

But it’s not Janine’s number on the screen. I glance at Drew, hesitating, but pick it up anyway. “Hello?”

“Cole,” I can hear the strained urgency in Griffon’s voice. “Rayne’s gone. They’ve got her and we need your help. Right now.”

I can barely understand his words. “What are you talking about? Who’s got her?”

“Kidnapped,” he says. “We think by the same people who took the formula and killed Veronique.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Why would anyone want to hurt Rayne?”

“Because she’s proof, Cole. She’s the only proof they have that Veronique’s formula works.” He pauses, and I can hear some commotion in the background. “We got one of the kidnappers. Which is where you come in—we need you to find out what he knows, and we don’t have much time. I’ll text you the address.”

Drew is looking at me with concern. “Change of plans?”

“Change of plans,” I confirm, my legs shaking as we hurry toward the stairs.

“Is this right?” Drew asks as he turns onto Broadway.

“That’s what it says.” I show him the address on my phone. The drive has made me impatient, and even though I know it only took a few minutes to get here, it feels like hours since I got Griffon’s call.

“There’s nothing but mansions up here.” He glances out the window and back at me, concern in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this, you know. This isn’t your fight.”

I stare at him, wondering how he could possibly think that. “Of course it is. Rayne’s my best friend, and I’m the only one who can do this. Unless they get some information from this guy, we might never find her.” I look away from him and at the addresses on the houses we pass. “They must be in there,” I say, pointing to a huge white three-story house with big bay windows and a turret on the top. I unbuckle my seatbelt before the car is even fully stopped. “You can just let me out.”

“I don’t think so,” Drew says. “I’m not letting you go in there alone.” He parks on the street in front of the house, blocking the driveway, and we’re barely up the front steps when the big wooden-and-glass door opens. “They’re in the basement,” Giselle says, pointing to the back of the house. We walk quickly along the main hallway together, and I take in the Persian rugs and oil paintings on the walls.

“Is this a Sekhem house?” I ask. I thought most Sekhem didn’t live like this.

Giselle glances at Drew. I wonder how she explained her presence at his party. Friend of a friend? “No. Just Khem. But someone who is sympathetic to the organization. And who has a safe room in the basement.” She looks over her shoulder as she leads us. “Easier to keep things quiet that way.”

We walk down a curving staircase to the bottom floor of the house. I don’t know that I’d call it a basement, what with its carpeted floors and big-screen home theater over to one side. “In here,” Giselle says, her tone all business. She pushes a picture aside and punches a code on the keypad behind it, which unlocks a bookcase to reveal the safe room. She holds up one hand to stop Drew. “You can’t come in.”

“I’m not leaving Cole,” Drew says. He grabs my hand.

“It’s okay,” I say to her. “He’s with me.”

“Sekhem only,” Giselle insists.

Griffon appears in the doorway. There’s no emotion on his face when he sees us, although I watch his eyes take in my dress and heels. “Peter’s upstairs in another part of the house. You can wait with him there.”

Drew opens his mouth to protest, but I squeeze his hand. We have to do whatever it takes to get this done, and there’s no time to argue. “It’s okay. Nothing’s going to happen. Just go up and I’ll be there in a little while.” Drew must realize he’s not going to win, because he bends down to kiss me once, glares at Griffon, and then lets Giselle lead him away.

Griffon opens the door wider and motions me in. The room is more stripped-down than the one outside, and it definitely looks like a place where someone could hole up for days in an emergency. There are metal shelves stocked with supplies lining one wall, and a few chairs and a single bed pushed against the other. In the middle of the room is a small wooden chair with a dark-haired man sitting in it. One hand is tied to the chair back, but the other hangs loosely at his side. His eyes are open and scanning the room, but nothing else about him seems to be moving.

“His shoulder was dislocated in the struggle,” Griffon says, seeing my glance at his arm. “And Giselle administered a nerve block to keep him immobile.” Griffon’s face looks drawn and worried. “He can see and hear, but he can’t speak. Doesn’t speak English anyway, from what we can tell.” He gestures at the man standing behind him. “You remember Christophe?”

“Of course.”

Griffon glances at his phone. “Janine should be here any minute, along with some other Sekhem. We need to find Rayne quickly. See if this guy knows where they’re taking her, along with any other information he might have.” A look of concern crosses his face. “Are you sure you’re okay doing this? I saw what it did to you last time—”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, with more assurance than I actually feel. I picture Rayne alone in a dark place, not knowing where she is or who she’s with. She must be scared out of her mind. I feel my anxiety start to rise again and pull my thoughts away from wherever she is. I have to calm down or I won’t be able to do this. “How did it happen?”

“We were walking up Haight toward the Red Vic when four men jumped out of an SUV and dragged Rayne into it.” He runs his hand over his hair. “It was so fast; we were taken totally by surprise. I managed to grab this one as he was climbing back into the car. They took off without him.”