Before You Go (YA Romance) (21 page)

“I bet not.”

 
“About me… I don’t know,” she lied, thinking of Logan.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“There’s not that much to tell.” She’d been slapped by her hair as they walked into the wind, and Vincent noticed. He let go of her hand and began to wiggle his tie out of his shirt. While she stood there, staring, he knotted it and slid it over her head, then gathered her hair up off her face. He pulled the tie tight, and draped the silk ends down her back.

“Thank you,” she said. “That feels so much better.”

“Your boyfriend won’t like it,” he said, catching her hand again with his.

Margo stiffened.
“My what?”

“Your boyfriend.
The one inside the drink stand.
Speaking of drinks.”
He reached into one pocket and pulled out a bottle:
Tutankhamun
Ale. He slid his hand out of hers and put the drink in. “That’s yours,” Vincent said. “I got one for myself, too.”

“When?”

 
“As we were walking out the door.
There was a bowl full of them. You didn’t see?”

Margo laughed. “No.”

“Well,” he said, twisting the top off his drink. “I did.”

“You’re funny.”

He grinned. “You’ve never taken a drink before, have you, Margo?”

“Have you?”

“Sure,” he said.
“Plenty of times.”

“Your dad must be pretty lax.”

“
Johnathon
doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But hey, have a swallow of it.”

She hesitated, and Vincent helped the bottle up to her mouth. “This stuff’s made in Cambridge. Recipe’s supposed to come from the tomb of an Egyptian queen.”

Margo got a mouthful, and it didn’t taste good at all. She made a face, and Vincent laughed.

“Keep sipping,” he said. “It gets better. And it will make the night more fun.”

Reluctantly, Margo took another sip. “How did you learn so much about drinking?”

“School.”

“Where do you go to school?” she asked.

 
“Eton.”

 
“That one in England?”

“That one.”
His shoulder bumped into hers, a little jostle that made her chest ache with thoughts of Logan. Under his watchful eye, Margo took another sip.

 
“I thought your family was American,” she said.

 
“You thought right.”

 
“Then why do you go to school in England? There are good ones here.”

“My father wants the
Graystones
to be elite enough.
To hang around people like Valeri Repin.
He’s Russian mafia, if you didn’t know—not that they all aren’t.”

They walked in silence for a minute, and then Vincent turned them back around. “Tell me about your boyfriend.
You really into him?”

Margo shrugged.     

Vincent’s mouth curled. “So that’s a ‘yes.’ How did you meet him?”

She told him, and then, when he prompted her a bit, she told him a little more. She left out the juiciest details, but by the time it was over, Vincent knew more about her and Logan than anyone else alive (other than her and Logan).

“He decided it wouldn’t be a good idea,” she said, misery bleeding into her voice. “He wants to go to space with the company, and he’s worried Cindy would be mad. He doesn’t even want to try.”

“But he will.” Vincent seemed sure of it. “It’s a good thing I’ve given you my tie. That will help.”

“Make him jealous?”

“Yep.”

The party was wilder when they returned. Everybody was dancing. Vincent grabbed them two more drinks—something called Utopias this time—and pulled Margo onto the dance floor. As they twirled around, keeping step with the island music, Margo kept seeing Logan, a smudge of white in the little hut.        

They danced through two more drinks before Vincent led her back to their sandals. “I’ll walk you to your mother.”

“Cindy,” she corrected.

“Cindy.” He put an arm around her, and Margo threw an obvious glance over her shoulder. She didn’t see Logan in the hut.

“Where’d he go?” she asked, and Vincent pulled her closer as they passed through a crowd.

“I think our plan worked. Your boy was relieved of duty a few minutes ago, and he looked very troubled. I’m sure he’ll come to find you any minute now.”

 
“Good,” she said, suddenly exuberant.

“I’ve got to get back up to our suites. My father and I are staying here with the
Repins
, and I’m Natalia’s host. Unfortunately, I have to entertain her.”

 
“I bet you like her.”

“Well, you’re drunk.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, and the two of them stopped. She realized they were just outside her mother’s hut.
Cindy
, she corrected her fuzzy head. “Cindy.”

“She’s right in there,” Vincent said, pointing.

 
“I know.”

“I’m going up,”
  he
said, nodding to the hotel. “We may see each other in a little while, if Nat wants to come back down.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Keep the tie.”

He bowed lowly and left. She looked at the hut—no Logan—then back to the tent. There was no way in the whole wide world that she was going to sit down with her mom.
Cindy
.

Yeah, screw Cindy.

She was going to find Logan. If he didn’t want to hang out with her, well, she would… What would she do?

She decided to get another drink, and stepped into one of the open bars to get it. The place had neon pink and white lights, a blue disco ball, and way too many people.

That’s when one of them caught her arm. A blond man she thought she recognized. “Miss Ford?”

She barely had time to say, “Yeah,” before he grabbed her arm and began leading her to the door.

“What is it?” Margo tried to pull against him, but her arms were so heavy.

“Your mother needs you,” the man said.

Margo planted her heels and her arm slipped from his hand. “Why?”

"You have a family emergency."

Even drunk, Margo knew that was bullshit. “I don’t have a family.”

The man’s eyes swept the room, and Margo realized who he was: Mr. Teeth! Though her brain was bleary, an awful awareness trickled through her. She turned to see what, exactly, Mr. Teeth was looking at. He lunged for her, grabbing her arm and jerking her toward the door.

"Let go of me!"

He didn't, and Margo had a thought that sent chills down her spine.

Kidnapper!

“Help!” she screamed, and his hand slammed over her mouth, bruising her lips. He practically carried her out the door as she struggled, and no one seemed to be coming!

A limo was waiting down the short stone walk, its engine idling, the back door open. She thrashed, tried to scream through his hand, and finally bit him. She was able to catch his finger in her mouth; he had a leather glove on, but she bit so hard he yelped and for a second she was free.

 
“HEEEEEEELLPPPP!” she screamed. She tried to run, but she was wearing heels.

 
“HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”

Teeth grabbed her around the waist. Margo screamed, and heard someone yell, “Stop!”

She looked
up,
saw two security guards running from either side of the path.
 
The awful man—
he was not a scientist!
—pushed Margo to the ground, and she had only a second to register the gun in his hand before he fired three quick shots. Margo turned in time to see both guards drop like flies.

He stuck the gun in her face, and she was so terrified she threw up.

“Oh shit!”

On his shoes.

“Get up you stupid bitch!” There was panic in his voice, which, she realized, was sounding familiar.
Familiar because it was angry and so thickly…German.
Like in the O the night she’d gone to look for Logan!

He yanked her up by her hair and tossed her into the limo.
She scrambled across the seat to the other door.
Locked.

“Please let me go!”

He pointed the gun at her. “Shut your god—“

And then he was gone, tackled to the ground by a blur.
Her savior snapped his arms around her kidnapper and lifted him into the air, and Margo’s heart stopped when she saw his face.

“Logan!”

Margo scrambled for the door, but the limo lurched forward, throwing her against the seat. She screamed as the momentum slammed her door shut.

She tumbled forward and beat against the dark glass, but the driver didn’t slow. Of course he didn’t. She was numb with terror because holy shit she was actually kidnapped, she was being driven by a criminal imposter, probably to meet other criminals, to be whisked away in a boat or plane and ransomed.

“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded. “
Please
. I don’t even really know her!”

Oh, God! Logan! Logan would tell someone. She turned toward the rear window and stared out
, as the light from the hotel faded behind them. She waited for it, for the flashing lights that would signal pursuit.
Waited until
the road forked: right to the casa, left to somewhere Margo had never been.
The limo turned left, and Margo’s terror tripled.