“Maybe. I don’t know yet. But someone tried to go after Sasha Macklin last night.”
Silence on the other end of the line. Then, “What happened?”
“One of Creelman’s men came by her apartment.”
“Fuck.” I’m relieved to hear some of the old McCrae anger come out. I’m more relieved that the worst of my theories—that Lionel’s somehow in bed with Creelman, which is ridiculous considering how much Lionel’s previously expressed his disdain for the man—doesn’t appear to hold water. Whatever’s going on with Lionel, he hasn’t suddenly started palling around with scumbags like Creelman.
“I gave her a white card after that incident at the restaurant.” I hold my breath. We rarely give out those cards. Those cards come with McCrae’s full protection.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t exactly receptive to new information the last time we talked.”
I can practically hear him gritting his teeth.
“That’s not all.”
“The fuck?”
“She’s with me now.”
A pause. Then, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Anger heats up in my chest. “She’s a friend, Lionel. And I assumed after our last meeting you wouldn’t want me using company resources by placing her in a McCrae safe house. You know the cost of—”
“I’m perfectly aware.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, and I can tell he’s twisting this over in his mind. He may be keeping his cards close to his chest these days, but I still know Lionel McCrae. I still know he’s smart, and in his heart, even with the money issue, he wouldn’t want harm to come to an innocent person.
Still, he takes longer than I would have thought he needed. I have to prod him. “Lionel?”
“I’m here.” He curses under his breath. “Okay, listen to me. You do what you need to in order to keep her safe for right now. But I do not want you adding back surveillance on Creelman or Macklin. Do you hear me? We can’t afford it.”
I knew he’d say that. Still, my chest burns. It makes me doubly glad we haven’t cut off the electronic surveillance. “I think that’s a bad idea. And I think Smith would think so, too.”
Smith hasn’t actually connected Creelman’s organization to his construction company recently. But he thinks we’re keeping tabs on all the players.
“He doesn’t need to know how we run our business.”
He kind of should. But I don’t say that. I change tack. “Lionel, I’d like to access some resources to keep Sasha safe, at least until we know what’s happening.”
“She’s not our client.”
I grit my teeth. “Nobody’s in the safe house in Brooklyn right now.”
“She’s not our client. And you know as well as anyone it’s not just the house. It’s the costs that come with it. Food. Utilities. You. I can’t spare you right now, Kelly. You know that.”
I hold the phone away from me for a full five seconds, trying to calm the fuck down. “If I don’t get her in a safe house, I have to keep her with me. And if I keep her with me, I can’t keep doing my job for you.”
And as long as she’s with me, I can’t keep my goddamned feelings in check.
“You could turn her over to me.”
A chill goes over me. “What?”
“Bring her to me, and I’ll ensure she’s kept safe until we figure out what’s wrong.”
This is wrong. Very wrong. “So you’ll use McCrae resources to keep her safe but I can’t?” That makes no sense at all.