Counting Paths

Chapter 19.

Sterling

"Where are we going?" I ask for the millionth time in the last half an hour. Roland gave up on answering about twenty-five minutes ago. He said we're going to the city, I asked why, then he just stopped talking. "What's so important in the city? I said I wanted to go home. Why can't we go home?"

"This is what I get for making a last-minute decision," he mutters to himself. Then he looks at me. "Can't you just trust me and shut up?"

"Can you stop acting like a soon-to-be villain in a Disney movie? Why can't you tell me where we're going?"

"No."

"That wasn't a yes or no question!"

He groans, pressing his elbow on the door. He rubs his temple. "Have you considered taking a nap?"

"Give me your phone then."

"I bought you your own phone."

"Yeah, but your phone is connected to Bluetooth," I point out, and he tosses me his phone. I struggle to find the right song for a moment, then I play the classic Pocketful Of Sunshine. He makes an irritated sound that makes me laugh.

"Take me away!" I sing off-key loudly. "A secret place, a sweet escape!"

# # #

Roland has a lot more patience than I thought-that or he did enjoy my annoying singing and goofy dancing, either way, we continued to listen to music for another ten minutes before he pulls into an apartment's underground parking lot. I try one last try to see why we're here as we spill out of the car, but he refuses to answer. I put on the jacket I found in the backseat and zip it up only halfway. I try dragging the hoodie over my head, but Roland yanks it down and kisses the top of my head.

"Try it again and I'll rip it off," he warns. "Come on."

I follow him to the staircase. We climb to the ground floor and then walk down the corridor.

From the outside, the place is a simple red brick building with stone outlining the windows. But from the inside, the walls are a lovely beige and white marble and the floor is so shiny and white, I can see myself effortlessly. I'm scared if I stepped too hard, the floor would crack. There are also grayish, fancy-looking love seats along the right side of the wall and tables with flower pots on the other side.

"Why does it look so...different from the outside?" I ask Roland.

"This place is for people like me, people whose income is illegal, who want to stay off the radar but in style."

"Why?"

"The people that live here can't risk living in a house like mine. It draws too much-unwanted attention."

"You're not worried?"

"No."

We reach the last apartment at the end of the hall and I can hear multiple dogs barking from the other side of the door. I peer up at Roland with furrowed brows in confusion. He shakes his head, and bangs his fist on the door. I flinch, poke my fingers in my ears, and move behind him. He glances at me over his shoulder but before he can say anything, the door swings open. He turns back as a short but muscular man grasps him by his arms.

"King!" The short man exclaims happily.

Roland sighs through his nose. "What did I say about touching me?"

"Not...not to do it." He has a thick Russian accent. He releases Roland, his wide and crooked smile wavering. I pull my fingers from my ears as his dark brown eyes settle on me. The full strength of his smile returns. "Princess!"