Page 158 of Mess With Me

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

“My shoulder’s dislocated,” he says.

I swallow. The pain must be indescribable. To be contorted that way, his shoulder out of his socket. “When?”

“When he tied me up. I only managed one hit before he knocked me out. A hard blow to the temple. I’m guessing the same thing he did to you.”

I nod, pain rattling through my head once more at the movement. I remember the fist flying at my head. I glance toward the door, as if the man’s going to come bursting back in at any moment. It’s still. I let out a breath, willing myself to settle. “Fine,” I say, resigned for a moment. Using up my strength isn’t doing anything useful right now anyway.

Sam clears his throat. “A few months ago, Vincent Creelman found out I was working with Lionel McCrae.”

He sees my confusion and nods, wincing. “Good. It’s smart he didn’t tell you.”

“Vincent?”

“Your husband. Lionel McCrae is your husband’s boss. Or was.”

I feel completely out of the loop. But I know Griffin wouldn’t keep me in the dark because he didn’t trust me. “You’ll need to explain that to me.”

“I never worked with Creelman, despite what the headlines said. I never even met him until McCrae came to me.” He pauses, as if still rolling it over in his mind. “I don’t know how Creelman knew we were working together. The only thing I can figure is one of his men must have seen us meeting somewhere. They keep tabs on local politics just like they keep tabs on cops. They’re smart. It’s how they keep two steps ahead of everyone else.”

So Sam was a way to get to Griffin’s boss? I’m not sure I buy it, though I can’t help the tiny flame of hope that there’s some small possibility Sam might not be the dirty politician everyone makes him out to be. “What were you doing for Lionel McCrae?”

Sam must see the suspicion on my face, because he shakes his head.

“It’s not what you think. It wasn’t illegal. It was regular city business. It wasgoodbusiness. McCrae had gone all in on this piece of property. A huge building in midtown. It cost him millions. He had this idea for a school for training troubled kids to get into his line of work. Personal security. Pre-law enforcement training. That kind of thing. I guess he had a daughter who worked with him who was killed—your husband must have known her, too. It was something she’d talked about. He was doing it for her.”

I swallow hard, my throat stinging as the pieces fall into place.Laura.

“McCrae needed city approvals. He said he came to me specifically because of something I’d said offhand at some press conference. Not about schools but…” Sam looks up. “The guy knew I was trying to be someone respectable.”

“Bit tough when you sleep your way through your thirties,” I say. “You were like a walking caricature of a Wall Street bro.”

Sam grimaces. “You don’t have to tell me about my mistakes, Sasha. I’m well aware. And I never treated the women I dated badly.”

“Except treating them like they were disposable.”

Sam says nothing, though his mangled jaw pulses. “I never said I was a good man then, Sasha,” he grits out.

“Keep going,” I tell him. I don’t have time to focus on his feelings. I wriggle my arms. Maybe I can at least loosen the ties.

“The point was, Lionel trusted me.”

He works his jaw. I can see his thinking:He trusted me, and I fucked it up.“He wasn’t public about the work he did. But those guys knew about it. He was a problem for them.” He pauses. “It got messy from there, Sash.”

I don’t move. I just meet Sam’s one functioning eye, waiting for him to continue.

“Creelman was clever. He had a woman pose as someone working for my office. Had my phone diverted—even sent calls through to my office that were supposed to go there. Until the next time Lionel called. I didn’t know they were watching me yet. I would have warned him.”

There’s a loud snap outside. We both turn to the door. I hold my breath, but no one comes.

“Lionel saw through the fake call right away. He told me to shred any record of us working together. Not to share any details about our meetings or who he was or where he worked. He told me when we first started working together how critical keeping his business confidential was. I had to sign an NDA.”

“Did you even know any details of his business?”

“I knew where his office was. We had it on record for the formal applications. It was listed as a numbered company, but I knew. I knew he had people working for him all over the world and that they’d saved thousands of people from harm by protecting people who spoke up against injustice.”

Sam looks away. “But once Lionel cut off contact, Creelman got in touch with me directly. Told me he knew I was working with this ‘white label firm’ and that I had to tell him where it was and share any information I had on them. He said if I didn’t…that’s when he threatened my family, Sasha. That’s when he found out about you.”

---