Page 17 of Redemption

“I’m sorry your math sucks, but that’s not my problem.” Zahir rises and extends his hand. “Have we got a deal?”

“I want it in writing, and I want my lawyer to read it.” There’re not offering me three years in minimum and snatching it away once the job is done. I’m making sure no matter what I do out there, I’m not going to be on the hook for any more crimes.

He nods to the guy by the bookcase, who takes an envelope out of his pocket, reads the front, and tosses it onto the desk.Three years, minimumis scrawled across the middle.

“I hate being a foregone conclusion,” I mutter.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Zahir says, “I didn’t even bother drawing up paperwork for the other deals we’ve discussed the last two hours.”

After they leave, I finger the envelope, thinking about what I’ve agreed to.

“They’re desperate,” the warden comments. “That’s a huge reduction in your sentence.”

I purse my lips and glance at him. “It’s not me they got over a barrel, it’s her. And I’d never let her fall.”

“An honorable trait, to love someone that much.”

I shrug. “Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d cut the honor out of me.” Not entirely true. For a brief moment, my life with Carys had been damn near perfect, as close to true happiness as I’ve ever felt. The other side of that bliss is what I’ve been living with the last few months—barely concealed despair. “You’ll get my lawyer for me?”

“I will.” He heads to the phone on his desk. “I’ll call you back to my office when they’re here.”

“Did they tell you when this is going down?”

He chuckles. “I’m as in the dark as you. Could be tomorrow for all I know, so I’ll get that lawyer here today. The FBI and CIA are playing chess—the rest of us are playing checkers.”

As soon as I’m out and can see where the pieces are on the board, I won’t be playing checkers anymore. No matter what it takes, I’ll be capturing the PLA’s king and taking down the person threatening Carys and Lucas.

Chapter Eight

Carys

Lucasisonmyhip as I make myself a cup of coffee and wait for Jay to get back from his meeting with the police. They claimed to have developments in the bombing of the hotel and casino. My grip on the cup isn’t as secure as I’d like it because of the cast, so I don’t fill the cup too full. I’ve had a few mishaps with trying to do too much when I’m not at full strength.

“Jay back yet?” Sofia asks as she breezes into the kitchen. She pours herself coffee in a to-go mug and leans against the counter.

“Not yet, no. They’ve had two weeks to investigate. They must have an idea of what happened.”

She grimaces and sips her hot drink. “Maybe that’s the problem. What to do with what they know…”

“You don’t think it was a gas leak.” I hitch Lucas up higher on my hip, and he tugs on a strand of my hair.

“Jay doesn’t like me in his business.” Her lips twist. “With a building that open, and no obvious ignition source close, it probably wasn’t the gas that sent you flying.” She winks. “Might have been a little bit of pillow talk the last few nights while he tried to piece everything together.”

Pillow talk.A spike of longing shoots through me, and I cross the floor into the living room to place Lucas on the play mat. I stare into my coffee while he kicks and rattles bar above him. Memories of Finn whisper and threaten to pull me under.

“I’m not supposed to understand what you’re doing,” Sofia says from the kitchen. “But I’ve got faith you’ll get him back.”

I glance over my shoulder. “If it doesn’t work, though…”

“Then you’ll find another way. One thing I love about my husband is his tenacity. He won’t give up, and neither will you.”

Before the explosion, before I saw Finn in Michigan, I was high on hope. Evander didn’t miss a step in our meeting. Even still, the last few days, my stomach has churned with worry. What if the escape isn’t successful? What if he’s injured or killed? What if he’s caught and sent to the supermax prison? What if, for a reason we can’t see, the plan never gets off the ground? As Evander warned us, there are so many moving pieces, it only takes one to slip and we could be free-falling.

The door opens, and Jay comes in carrying an envelope. He kisses Sofia on the cheek and makes himself a cup of coffee. He’s processing—stalling—before he acknowledges me. The last lingering hope that the explosion is pegged as a gas leak vanishes. If the explanation is easy, there’s no need for him to avoid me.

“I have to pick up the kids from school.” Sophia grabs her purse. “Lena is grocery shopping. I’ll take them to the park so we’re out of your hair for a bit.”

“Thanks.” Jay gives her a peck on the lips before she slips out the door.

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