Page 4 of Behind These Four Walls
“That’s not it. I can’t eat almonds,” Holland said. “I’m allergic.”
“Oh!” Isla said, grabbing the bag quickly and tossing it back up front like it was a hot potato as Hasaan apologized profusely. There’d been a girl at her group home who was allergic to nuts. Her reaction had been terrifying.
Holland assured them, attempting to calm them, “Not all nuts. Just almonds, weirdly enough. The last time I had a major allergic reaction was back when I was like nine. I ate some cookies without checking. No biggie. That’s what EpiPens are for. It’s okay.”
Holland could try to appease them all she wanted, but the look Hasaan shared with Isla through his rearview mirror was clear. They could have killed a Corrigan, and they would have been next.
Two high, ornate wrought iron gates with majesticCemblems on each half marked the entry point and extended from there, a seemingly endless length of tall stone walling off the inner grounds of the house from the vast property, where much of the land remained natural and untouched.
Isla silently echoed Hasaan’s low whistle. She imagined the opulence that was on the other side and already knew her imagination was not enough.
Any excitement they had was killed by Holland, who’d gone from relaxed and joking to nervous energy. She leaned forward in her seat, preparing to exit the moment the vehicle stopped, her anxiety ramped back up now that she was home. Holland’s door was open before Hasaan could throw the gear in park, and a guard was already exitingthe one-level building as floodlights illuminated the area. Isla grew uneasy when she noted two distinct objects, a Taser and gun, on either side of his waist. His hand rested lightly on the object that didn’t have the bright-yellow grip. The gun.
The guard recognized Holland as she approached, his expression transforming from hostile to surprised. He called out something unintelligible, and the front gates began to open all the way, sliding away from each other on hidden tracks. He closed the distance between them.
Holland gestured to the Camry, and both Isla and Hasaan froze when the guard craned his neck to see into the darkened car. They hadn’t done anything wrong, but Isla couldn’t help feeling like these people would think they had.
The guard ran a hand over his face, his apprehension growing as Holland spoke. Isla didn’t need to hear him to know what he was thinking. Heads were about to roll. Holland had come home in a strange car.
“Maybe we should go help the kid out,” Hasaan suggested as he bit his fingernails and stared out the window. “You know. Help the kid out a little.”
“I don’t know,” Isla answered. “They don’t look like the welcoming committee.”
But a tiny part of her felt like a coward. She should step out and explain her part before they really did call the cops for kidnapping or something outlandish. Not for the tenth time, Isla was second-guessing this entire thing, and the bus ride back home sounded better with each passing moment.
“I’ll go.” Her mouth said one thing; her body said another. It roiled with apprehension.
The guard was speaking when she reached them. “The whole estate on fire looking for you. Tracking the car, trying to call you. Searching the inner and outer grounds. Sending people out to search your last knowns,” the guard was saying as Isla got near. “They found your car with a flat and no one around.”
“Yeah, because I was on the way here!” Holland said, agitated. “I couldn’t call. Remember my phone?” Holland held up a hand. “And before you ask, I only know my number.”
Holland pulled her phone from her back pocket. She’d left her backpack with her wallet and all her valuables in the car with two people she’d known for barely an hour. However, the dead phone ... she’d kept close.
“Totally dead. But I got home, thanks to Isla.”
Isla waved at her name.
“Can we head in?” Holland asked, starting to head back to where Hasaan anxiously awaited them.
The guard shook his head. “They can’t come in past the gate for security reasons, but”—he motioned toward the small building he’d come from—“Willis has already called up for a car to pick you up from here, since we can’t leave post. Let’s get you inside until they come down.”
Holland had started to protest when the sound of approaching tires drew their attention. They watched as a dark-colored late-model sedan passed Hasaan and the Camry. It stopped near the entranceway. The driver exited, a serious-looking man giving off Secret Service vibes. He swept the area with his gaze, making his assessment, as he buttoned his suit jacket.
Noting the guard on the scene, he strode toward the car door Isla had left open when she’d rushed to join Holland. He peered in, sizing up Hasaan, who looked too afraid to move. Hasaan waved stiffly, but the driver didn’t return the greeting, instead straightening himself and standing by as if awaiting orders. Isla wasn’t sure what to make of his appearance, or the way he wouldn’t leave the Camry, as if it—they—posed a threat, but she smartly kept her thoughts to herself. It was better to wait and see.
“That’s Taylor. He’s my brother Myles’s driver-slash-everything,” Holland remarked, practically glowing, excited at the new arrival.
Chapter Three
The rear passenger door opened next, and Isla had to tell herself to stay cool when he got out. She recognized him instantly from TV and articles and the one time she’d seen him up close. None of those brief glimpses did Myles Corrigan a bit of justice. Isla had to force herself to not stare too long, to play it cool and focus on getting herself out of there. She’d done her part, brought Holland home safely.
Myles joined them, making his assessments as his driver had. Isla reminded herself to be quiet and look unbothered when she felt the opposite.
He stopped beside Isla. If he knew she was there, he didn’t let on. Isla chuckled softly with a slight shake of her head. Of course. The rich were all the same. They saw no one they thought was beneath them. Holland was an anomaly, though Isla wondered if her kindness was genuine or because she needed help.
Myles waited expectantly, focusing on the guard. His silence was a directive that the guard understood. He ditched the bravado he’d had a few moments ago and began explaining away the grievous mistake, the loss of Holland, that he hadn’t made.
“And Isla was a total lifesaver, got an Uber, Hasaan over there, to bring me home,” Holland was in the middle of proclaiming, as if to avert impending disaster by assuring her brother that the two strangers were friendlies, not foes.