Page 8 of Redemption

“I think I want to give him the hotel and casino project on top of Finn’s escape. There wasn’t a single question he faltered on. He had an ‘if this, then’ for every scenario we posed.”

“Any doubts I had are gone,” I agree. Rather than the unease that’s been building in me, hope is taking its place. Evander’s plan is solid.

“Now we wait for the cogs in the machine to line up.”

Chapter Five

Finn

Whentheguardcomesto tell me the warden wants to see me, I figure Hagen has him in his pocket too. What’ll he want now? Despite my bravado with the kid in the shower, his boss realizes my weakness. If he threatens Carys or her son, I’ll roll over.

All the way to the warden’s office, I theorize what Hagen might ask me to do. Drugs? Seems the most likely step removed from murder. Would the prison warden be in on that scheme?

The guard knocks on the door, and the warden calls us in. He’s a man in his late fifties with bushy eyebrows and a kind face. I suppose since this is a low-security prison, maybe he doesn’t have to be such a hard-ass.

“Have a seat, Finn. I’m Jeffrey Lim, the warden here.” He motions to the chair across from him. The guard stands beside the door to oversee the two of us.Must not trust me too much. Shouldn’t trust me at all.

I stare at him in silence. Whatever he wants to say, I’m not giving him an easy opening. Working for Hagen is very far down my list of fun things to do in prison.

“I asked you here today because I have someone who’d like a private, secure meeting with you. We could have done it in one of the lawyer rooms, but I didn’t want to take the chance of anyone seeing you together.”

Aww, shit. Hagen’shere? Harder to refuse him in person when he’s sneering in my face and I can’t retaliate. No matter what, I’m not getting shuffled to maximum security.

“He’s not quite here yet. Are you settling in okay? Has everyone been treating you well?” The two caterpillars above his eyes rise.

“Yeah. It’s been fine.” The guard behind me was on duty the day the kid came after me in the showers. I’m no snitch, and if Hagen’s the one running this place, I might as well look like a team player.

There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t bother turning around. No point in acting surprised when he makes his appearance.

“Ah, here he is. I understand you know each other?” Lim stands and motions to the now-open door.

Reluctantly, I turn in my seat. Well, knock me over with a feather. Not a Volkov after all. I haul myself out of my chair and prop my ass against the warden’s desk. These aren’t the kind of people to watch a guy’s back—more like stab him in it. “That guard.” I point to the prison security by the door. “Needs to be gone.”

“Pete, these men can handle their own security.” The warden shoos him out.

As soon as Hagen’s Payroll Pete is gone, I survey the tall South Asian man in an expensive suit and his two comrades behind him. Will Pete be a problem later? Does he understand who these men are? “F-B-fucking-I.”

Zahir’s lips tip into an almost smile. “That’s right. F-B-fucking-I. We were hoping to have a little discussion with you, Finn.”

“I have a choice?” I smirk. “No, I will not have a discussion with you.” I glance at the warden over my shoulder. “Thanks for inviting me here, Lim. But I’m taking a hard pass.”

“You may want to listen. We have quite a proposition for you.”

“A proposition? Well, then.” I rub my hands together. “Is it a sexual one? I didn’t realize the FBI was in the pimping business, but hey, who am I to judge? Nights get dark and lonely.”

Zahir raises an eyebrow. “A prostitute? How would Carys feel about that?”

Before I can school my face, a scowl mars it. “You don’t talk about her. Her name doesn’t cross your lips, you got me?”

“This is a pretty cushy setup you have in here.” He comes deeper into the spacious office and leans an elbow against a bookcase. The other two men take up watch on the other side. Whether they’re lackeys or security doesn’t matter. We understand who’s got the power in this room, and it’s not me.

“I was a good boy in maximum, so I got rewarded.”

He scoffs. “Your girlfriend is a rich woman, and so you bought yourself a better prison.” He ventures to the window behind the warden’s desk and stares out. “Time outside.” He glances behind him at my hands and feet. “No cuffs. Pretty sweet deal you’ve got here.”

Where are these comments going? Did he come to take me to a higher-security prison? Did they set up the equivalent of a Google alert on me? I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I’ve kept my nose, mostly, clean. Until I figure out where this conversation is headed, I’m not saying another word.

He rotates so we’re facing each other across the desk; the warden is the monkey in the middle. The walkie-talkie on the bookshelf goes off, and the warden crosses the room to turn it down.

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