Rocco cocks a dark brow as mirth hardens his features. “Are you not heading back to the compound?”
His face appears a mix of jeering and confusion when I answer, “I’ve got to take Roxanne home first,” before it switches to straight-up anarchy.
“I can do that for you. You don’t have to go out of your way.”
Needing to leave before I knock his teeth out, I grip the top of Roxanne’s arm before placing her into the passenger seat of the Mercedes with less aggression than I did Smith’s equipment. I’m not known for being gentle, but Smith’s laptop is only worth a little over half a million dollars. Roxanne’s price tag is closer to thirty—if not priceless.
“We need to find out what information Megan has that makes her invaluable to my father. If we can do that out without needing to travel to her, I’d much appreciate it.”
The last thing I want is a cross-country adventure when solid intel of a Russian invasion just landed in my inbox. Since the information came from a man with nothing to lose, I’m paying it more attention than I did when Theresa suggested the same thing.
I stop leaning across Roxanne’s body to fasten her seat belt when Smith says, “Megan could come to us.”
“How?” Roxanne asks before I get the chance.
I scrub at my jaw to hide my grin when Smith’s eyes lift from his prototype phone. He’s never without an electronic device. “She’s all-types of crazy… but not enough for a permanent placement. She could be signed out to a guardian.”
My eyes snap to Roxanne’s. I have no fucking clue why I’m seeking her advice. I am just relaying to you what’s happening. It could be the fact that I’ve spent the past few weeks going through the files she compiled while I was flat on my back. Or it could be her perfume. Whatever it is, a gleam in her eyes exposes she appreciates me seeking her opinion.
While bouncing her eyes between mine, she hesitantly shrugs. “She could lead us to the people we’re seeking.” The fact she says ‘us’ messes with my head even more than all the shit Maddox just bombarded it with. “It’s a risk, but if the reward could potentially exceed the danger, we have to take a chance.”
Because I agree with her, I give Smith the go-ahead, but with added stipulations. “Tag her before she’s released. We don’t want her location falling through the cracks.”
Smith’s hard swallow reveals he heard the words I didn’t speak, and the narrowing of Roxanne’s eyes exposes she’s just as telepathic. “You can’t microchip her like she’s a dog.”
“I can’t? Since when?”
The huff she does while crossing her arms under her chest is cute. I can’t wait to see how she responds when I order Smith to do the same to her. Then, there’ll be no more sneaking up on me. I’ll know where she is at all times of the day and night.
Twenty-Two
Roxanne
For how pricy this car is, it has shit ventilation. I’ve done everything imaginable to lessen the intensity of Dimitri’s unique scent—I’ve rolled down the window, cranked up the air conditioning, and removed my boots with the hope stinky socks would eradicate it—nothing has worked! It’s still there, lingering in my nostrils as often as his infamous half-smirk has trickled into my mind the past six weeks. And don’t get me started on other wondrous parts of his body, or you’ll book me in for more than a lobotomy.
Ugh! Why do I continue tormenting myself like this? He killed my boyfriend, tortured my parents, then sent a killer to my best friend’s apartment. I should have been glad to see the backend of him. I just wasn’t.
It’s for Claudia, I remind myself.I agreed to a ride I didn’t need for her.
With that in mind, I pull up my big girl panties, glide up the window I’ve been dangerously balancing out of the past hour, then shift my focus to Dimitri. Just like the first seventy miles of our trip, he stares straight at me. It should be impossible to watch both the road and me, but he makes it look easy.
“How much pull do you have with the warden at Wallens Ridge?”
He wrings the steering wheel two times before replying, “Depends who’s asking.”
“Me. I’m asking.” His grip on the steering wheel turns deadly. It makes his knuckles go white, but I push on, determined to have an injustice rectified. “Claudia was unfairly convicted—”
Dimitri cuts me off with a brittle laugh. “That’s what all criminals say.”
Even though his tone is brimming with mirth, I still narrow my eyes at him. “Sheisinnocent. Her boyfriend was an abusive ass. Witness statements prove his hand was on the steering wheel when they veered off the road, yet she’s still serving time. How is that fair?”
He waits a beat to absorb what I said before he asks, “Who prosecuted her case?”
Although I’m a little lost to where he’s going with this, I answer, “A DA more interested in looking at her tits than compiling legitimate evidence.”
I thought my description would match a thousand district attorneys. I was clearly wrong. “Luca Marco?”
After picking up my jaw from the floor, I ask, “Have you heard of him?”
