Page 147 of This Woman Forever
He nods, sipping his coffee, quietly pensive. He’s wondering too. Who would steal my car, because this sounds like more than a planned theft. It sounds like a vendetta. “I’ve got Cook looking into Van Der Haus.”
“Thought you would,” he replies, easy as that.
At the same time, both of our mobiles ring. Neither of us look particularly thrilled. I leave John to take his call while I connect mine, wandering away from him and my bike. “Yes?” I say in answer, sounding harder than I intended. Jake and John are right. Ava doesn’t have any context. And bottom line, I trapped her. I realize she acted out of spite and anger. I realize she was trying to get some control back in her life. Still, it’s a really fucking hard pill to swallow.
I expect an apology. A plea for understanding. I expect her to ask if we can talk, sort this out. I get none of that. “Nice drive?” she asks, her tone curt.
She’s pissed with me? “What?”
“Are you having a nice drive?”
“Ava, what the fuck are you talking about?” I snap, irritation rising. “And when I send John to fetch you, get in his fucking car.”
“I’m talking about you following me,” she says, impatient.
“What?” Following her? Like a complete idiot, I circle on the spot, as if to remind myself I’m at Lusso and not following Ava. “Ava, I haven’t got time for fucking riddles.”
“I’m not talking in riddles, Jesse. Why the hell are you following me?”
“I’m not following you, Ava.” I look to the heavens and take more caffeine.
“So I suppose there are hundreds of Aston Martins driving around London, and one just happens to be following me.”
My coffee cup halts at my mouth, a rush of cold sweeping through my body. “You’re driving?”
“Yes. I’m driving around in bloody circles, and you’re following me. You’d make a shit detective.”
“My car’s following you?” I ask on a murmur, looking around the car park blankly, my mind struggling to absorb the information being given and what that could mean.
“Yes,” she yells, angry.
“Ava, baby, I’m not driving my car,” I say quietly. “I’m at Lusso.”
She’s silent for a few worrying moments. “But it’s your car.”
Realization slams into me with such force, I drop my coffee. My stolen car is following my wife? “Fuck!” I kick the cup away and stalk to my bike, my stomach dropping over and over, my throat clogged with apprehension. “John,” I yell. The big guy looks over his shoulder, his phone still at his ear. His glasses are pulled off his face the second he registers my disposition.
“Jesse,” Ava says. “What’s going on?”
“My car’s been stolen.” I make it to my bike, hearing Ava talking but not hearing her, John pacing over in long, heavy strides. “My car’s following Ava,” I say, and he withdraws, his stoic face falling. “Where are you?” I ask Ava, as John goes straight to his phone and ends the call, heading to his car.
“I’m on the embankment,” she says quietly. “Driving toward the city.”
“John,” I call. He looks back. “The embankment. City bound. Call her in two.” John nods, gets in, and pulls away. Together. Calm. Collected. Makes one of us. “Baby, listen to me.” I swing my leg over my bike. “Just keep driving, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I’ve got to put the phone down now.” I stare at the handlebars of my bike, praying on anything I’ve ever believed in to watch over my wife and baby until I can get to them. Beg.
“I don’t want you to.” Her voice cracks, her fear thick. “Stay on the phone, please.”
“Ava.” I try to inhale some calm. “I’ve got to put the phone down. John’s going to call you as soon as I hang up. Put it on loudspeaker and place it in your lap so you can concentrate. Understand?”
Silence.
“Ava, baby. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”