Kiss Me (The Keatyn Chronicles, #2)

“No. Don’t move. Don’t even speak.”


We sit in silence while Vincent leans against the car. He’s having an animated conversation. I can’t really hear what he’s saying, but he sounds pissed.

He slams his fist into the side of the window and I jump about four feet into the air.

“That’s it,” the driver says. He opens the car door and says to Vincent, “What the fuck are you doing hitting my car?”

I dive further down into the floorboards as Garrett yells at me, “What the hell are you doing there?”

Fuck.

Why did he have to do that?

And he’s left his door open.

Vincent slams his phone into his pocket. “I’m sorry, sir. Just got a call with some bad news.” He turns and looks at the window. Literally straight at me. “It doesn’t appear I did any damage.” Then he reaches in his pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and peels off a twenty. A picture drops out of the wad.

The driver bends down to pick it up.

Vincent says, “You been here long?”

“Only about an hour.”

“You happen to see this girl?” He holds my photo in front of the driver’s face.

I thought my heart stopped before.

I may literally be going into cardiac arrest.

Please, God. Please don’t let him be swayed by a wad of cash. Please let him say no. Please. Please.

Garrett yells in my ear again, “Keatyn, goddammit, answer me.”

“Shush.”

I hear the driver say, “I’ve seen a lot of pretty girls. Can’t say I’ve seen that one, though.”

“Thanks, anyway,” Vincent says. “Sorry about the car.” And he walks away.

The driver gets back in the car.

“I can’t believe you did that after I told you to stay in the car!”

“Nobody is going to hit my car and get away with it. He had a picture of you.”

“I was afraid when you saw that wad of money, you might tell him I was in here.”

“No way, Miss. I saw his eyes. He has cold eyes.”

“Yes, he does.”

“You ready to get out of here, I take it?”

“Yes. Please.” Then I say into my phone, “I’m fine, Garrett. We’re leaving. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

After he drives for about ten minutes, with me staring out the back window trying to make sure we’re not followed, I have him pull into a convenience store parking lot.

“I need to make a phone call,” I tell him, then step outside of the car.



I call Garrett back. Tell him what just happened. He puts me on hold to call B’s security team.

I pace the length of the car.

His voice booms in my ear. “What the hell were you thinking going there? All the work we did to get you somewhere safe and you go see Brooklyn at a publicized event?”

“I thought it would be okay. I never thought he would fly all the way to New York.”

“Do you believe me now? Do you fucking believe that you can never let your guard down again? Do you now believe me when I said your life as you knew it is over?”

I start bawling and lean against the window Vincent punched. “Yes, I believe you. I’m sorry.”

“None of this will work if you don’t make it work.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No. No sorries. I want you to think about what could have happened to you there. I want you to think about what Vincent wants to do to you. Are those pleasant thoughts?”

I sob. “No.”

“Good. Remember them next time you think about doing something stupid like this. Let’s get you back to school.”

“I’m going to the Hamptons. Some friends from school have a house there. I’ll be safe. It’s my new life. I swear, Garrett, I’m trying. I really am.”

Garrett calms down. I hear him take a deep breath.

“Please don’t tell my mom or James or Tommy. Promise me?”

“I’m putting you on hold. Don’t hang up.”

“Okay.”

I wait on hold for a few minutes. A text from the spa pops up with an address.

Garrett clicks back on. “I want you to get the driver to take you to the address that was just sent to you. Do not, under any circumstances, tell him where you are going next. Do you understand?”

“I understand. What is at the address?”

“A helicopter. I’m getting you the fuck to the Hamptons and fast.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“As for telling your family, I will keep quiet if you promise to never do something so stupid again.”

“I got it.”

His voice softens. “Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I start to cry again and stutter out, “I went . . . to . . . to . . . see Brooklyn . . . and he . . . hooked up with a girl . . . in a cabana . . . while I was there.”

“Damn. That’s not cool.”

“I know. You’ll make sure he’s safe though, right? As much as I’d like to kill him right now, I don’t really want anyone else to hurt him.”

“They said he’s out surfing. He’s fine. Right now I want you to tell your driver to take you to the address. Remember not to tell him where you are going. Okay?”

“Okay.”



I get back in the car, give him the address, and try to compose myself.