Page 53 of Look for Me

“This cell here is facing east. I can tell from the morning sunlight.”

“Okay.” It might be useful later, Corinne figured. Or not. Right now the little slit of window was dark. Probably from the heavy rain.

“I just get sunlight. I don’t know where they put me.”

“Looks like a room?”

Corinne nodded. “Yeah, a regular empty room.”

“Then it’s one floor up.”

“You know this place.”

“I’ve been here exactly twice,” Flavian said. “With Nikos, no less.”

“Maybe he bought the island.”

“Rent is more like it. He’s too broke to buy one.” Flavian’s eyes steeled. “Don’t tell him anything.”

“He wants your diamonds.”

“You gave half of them to your cousin Stephanie, didn’t you?” His eyes showed Corinne that he knew.

“I was under duress.” Corinne didn’t explain what sort of duress.

It wasn’t from the FBI, for sure. She couldn’t raise a child in the dark world that Flavian operated in.

“I forgive you. You did it for our daughter. We should’ve left Vegas. You like Miami? When this is over, we can move to Miami.”

Even as he said it, Corinne knew he could make no promises to leave his life of crime.

The door opened before they could talk more. Corinne had no idea what Flavian wanted her to do, but she didn’t want to jeopardize Dahlia’s safety.

Yet, before she could leave the cell peacefully, Flavian was already attacking the guard.

Corinne rushed forward, but a muzzle pointed at her nose.

Miss Executioner shook her head. “Were you two thinking of fighting your way out?”

She nodded to the guard, who immediately tasered Flavian. The latter writhed in pain on the dirty floor.

“Flavian!” Corinne screamed. “No!”

Miss Executioner dragged Corinne out of the cell. Her last words to the guard were, “Break his legs.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Key West nightclub was neon loud in every way, psychedelic glow-in-the-dark colors splattered all over the walls and ceilings, and swirls of fluorescent paint on the bar, booths, and surrounding tables.

It was too noisy for Martin, but he pressed on, pushing deeper into the crowd reeking with the smell of liquor concoctions and cigarette smoke.

Suffocating!

Martin popped out of the dance crowd on the other side. He glanced around to gain his bearings and to see if he could remember his way out of here.

He looked at every face but did not see Pilar. The lighting had turned everyone’s clothes another color, and Martin suddenly couldn’t remember what Pilar had worn when she stepped off the van still parked outside.

He thought back to the last sixty hours he had spent with Pete and Angelina. It had turned out that in their spare time—back in the days—Pete and Angelina had been two small-town private investigators. They had retired from it twenty or more years ago after they had a falling out with each other.

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