Knight swore he’d be back with lunch. I opened the home screen, but there were no bars. I groaned. I gripped the phone, stopping myself from hurling it at the radiator. I’d never been so frustrated. I was the kind of woman to overreact. Call it training, or maybe it was my personality.
My stomach rolled. Something didn’t feel right. I waited for footsteps on the porch that never came. It was still too hot. I pulled on my shirt. My head started to throb. The headache was spiraling as I realized there was something terribly wrong. My mouth went dry.
I would give him an hour. Three o’clock. Then I was going to open the door.
I set a timer. It would keep me from anxiously checking my phone every three minutes.
As soon as I heard the crickets beep, I grabbed the key and turned the locks.
I stepped onto the porch, looking left and right. It was quiet. It didn’t feel as if there was anyone else for miles. I realized I couldn’t just walk out of here. There was a reason he wanted me to go into hiding, and the fear that someone could have grabbed him as easily as they grabbed Crew almost paralyzed me.
I staggered backward into the cabin. I had to get organized. I needed a plan to hide that I had ever been here. It wasn’t hauling a suitcase through the bayou.
I packed the most essential contracts and files in a messenger bag. The rest I hid under the couch and in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. The best I could with the suitcase was wedge it at the end of the bed and cover it with quilts, hoping it looked like a piece of furniture. I’d packed too much, not knowing how long it would be before I returned to my compound. I didn’t expect to leave the cabin like this—like a woman hiking out of the woods to save her life and looking for the man she loved.
I lifted the messenger bag over my head and walked out of the cabin.
I’d never been so sure that Knight needed me.
16
Knight
The fluorescent light flickered. Off. On. Blink. Blink. Off for so long I thought it had died, then it sputtered to life again. The man in the corner, rocked beneath it, holding his arms against his chest. Another man spat at him to stop moaning, but he didn’t notice. I didn’t want to watch the spit slide down the guy’s cheek.
What the fuck was this place? Homeless men? Pick pockets? It smelled. It was damp. It was crowded.
They’d taken everything from me when I was booked. The cufflinks with the KC engraved on them. The Breitling watch. Even my tie. I was only a few hours away from an orange jumpsuit. I could feel it. See it in their eyes—they wanted to see me in that thing. If they could parade me around in that costume, it would mean they had won a battle in a long unspoken war.
I rolled my sleeves up a few lengths and pushed them past my elbows. There was no air in here either.
My one call had been to Paul. But what the hell did he know about criminal law? He waded through murky legal jargon and real estate deals. I still didn’t know what the cops had on me. What could they have? No one knew where in the hell Crew was. Something or someone had put the spotlight on me.
The man closest to me started coughing. I turned away from him.
The bailiff approached the door to the cell, rattling his keys to get everyone’s attention. “Corban, you have a visitor.”
I took my time to stand. I wasn’t going to rush in front of this audience.
He rolled his eyes when I reached the cell opening. “This way.”
“Thank you.”
He led me through a narrow hall and to a room with a single table and two chairs. There was no one here yet. I sat, while the bailiff cuffed my wrists to the metal arches protruding from the table. I waited for Paul.
When the door finally opened, I stared at my visitor.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked. “Where’s Paul?”
He walked in briskly, dropping a leather briefcase next to his chair. “Paul called me.” He sat and started scribbling on a yellow legal pad.
“Your name?”
I looked up. “Baxter Barnes.” He let the pen rest. “Look, I’m…I was your father’s counsel in these matters. Paul knew to call me.”
“Never heard of you.” I glared at him.
He huffed. “You wouldn’t have. Raphael wanted it that way. I never worked in the front office.”