Page 175 of Sins of a King
“Well, sure. Have you seen him?” Ash asked in amusement.
“You like him.”
“Yes.”
“Well that settles that,” I said.
“What?”
I grinned. “We’re going to Scotland. You should be with him.”
“But what about all the stuff going on here? With you?”
“Things are stable enough here for the moment. I need to be with Flynn.”
I zipped my suitcase closed and lifted it to the ground. Pulling on a comfortable sweater and boots, I looked around the bedroom one last time to make sure I had everything. I wheeled the suitcase to the pile of luggage already packed. Picking up my shoulder bag, I took a deep breath, trying to settle the nausea rolling through my belly. Flying would be interesting.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sasha asked me as we followed the bellman through the lobby. We headed outside, and the bellman began stowing away my luggage into the waiting town car.
“It’s not ideal,” I said, “but you and Brad have a good handle on things. Your position is secure. It’ll all be fine.” Flynn had told me that everything was in place for the Russian empire to funnel money to the SINS and hopefully the FBI would no longer watch Flynn.
I also missed my husband and telling him about the baby was something I needed to do face to face.
I hugged Sasha, and he squeezed me back before releasing me. Just as I was about to climb into the waiting car that would take me to Ash’s apartment and then to the airport, Fred Winters walked toward The Rex, jaw clenched, body tight. He moved with purpose. Two agents flanked his sides, and I knew this wasn’t one of his tricks to come here and ruffle my feathers. Something was up. He’d been silent for two weeks, but I’d never been lulled into thinking he’d given up interest in all that had gone down with Marino.
“Barrett Campbell,” he called out. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Igor Dolinsky.”
Everything seemed to freeze, including my breath. I said nothing even as Fred Winters turned my body so he could cuff my hands. My eyes found Sasha, but I remained silent. He nodded, his face lined with anger. Even when I was put into the back of a black car, I didn’t say anything. Trick of the trade: keep your damn mouth shut.
There had been three of us in that warehouse: Flynn, Dolinsky, and me. No way a dead man could talk. Sasha knew what had gone down, but he would never betray me, I knew that in my bones. And Flynn was my husband.
Flynn had called Brad to clean up the mess, and Brad had had a team. I didn’t know those men, so I couldn’t vouch for them. Could one of them have squealed? Could it have been Brad?
Winters and the driver in the front seat were quiet too, except for when Winters got a call on his cell phone. He said a few words and then hung up—I was too caught up in my head to pay attention to what was being said. I didn’t know how long we drove, but the car finally came to a stop outside a tall nondescript building. I peered at it through the window until the car door opened and Winters waited for me to scoot out.
He took me by the arm, my hands still cuffed behind me, and led me up the front steps of the building. Did he really think I’d make a break for it?
We passed by two security officers seated in the lobby and headed toward the elevators. I raised my eyebrows in surprise when Winters pushed the button for the twelfth floor. Guess I wouldn’t be taken to a basement and tortured. Well, not yet.
When the elevator doors opened, I saw rows and rows of desks and harried people in suits. No one looked up as Winters all but hauled me down the hallway to a private room. He opened the door and ushered me in. It was a cube with a table and two chairs. And it was completely private. Winters gestured for me to take a seat. Without much choice, I did as bid, wondering why I was here instead of in a holding cell. I was sure Winters would enlighten me. At some point.
I sat, but he remained standing, no doubt trying to intimidate me. It wouldn’t work. I wasn’t who I used to be. A surge of protective instincts overwhelmed me and it wasn’t just for Flynn—it took all of my willpower not to place a hand on my belly. I had to give nothing away.
Winters quit pacing, pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table from me, and sat. He stared at me. I smiled. His face darkened with anger.
He really needed a better poker face.
“Does nothing affect you?” he demanded.
I shrugged but said nothing.
“You’re under arrest for murder—and you have nothing to say?”
“I’ll say nothing without my lawyer present,” I stated. “If you’ll actually let me make a call. Because, let’s face it, you’re not really a man of your word.” I leaned back in my chair, pretending I had all the time in the world, pretending that I wasn’t terrified of rotting in a cell without a fair trial.
Winters glared at me one long moment before shoving back from the table, stalking out of the room, like I was some cancerous contagious entity.
I was alone.
