“And it’s not hard to guess for the rest of my men either. They knew exactly what you were doing with the rose under the sheets when you thought you were being discreet. And Brandon just picked one of your books at the airport. It won’t take him long to know exactly what those letters stand for, if he hasn’t already. Is that what you want? The attention of every man in the vicinity?”
“I didn’t wear it on purpose. I didn’t get to choose which clothes to pack, remember? When you took me to the cabin, you told Brandon to bring some of my things, so I just packed whatever he got, not that I need to explain my wardrobe to you,Mr. Morra. Now, get the fuck out of my room.”
“Or what? You’ll scream? Fire me?”
“Don’t try me.”
“No, you don’t try me because I’ve had enough.” I storm to the door, but before I leave, I glance at her over my shoulder. “In which prison is Shane serving his sentence?”
“Florida State Prison in Raiford. Why?”
“Just like you ask me to put my faith in you and trust you,Birdie, you’re going to have to do the same with me.”
CHAPTER 24
Birdie
The light filtering through the curtains isn’t warm. It’s sterile, fluorescent—hotel light.Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all?I’m awake before I open my eyes. My skull throbs. I don’t need a bandage anymore, but the headache is still there, a dull, pulsing reminder that I fell. Or imagined I did. Or…
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and reach for my phone. Not there. Right. Tristan took it. My head throbs more painfully. I pop a pill and get up.
When I crack open the door, Brandon’s massive frame blocks it like a wall of muscle. He doesn’t flinch. “Good morning.”
No. “Where’s he?” I don’t care about my hoarse voice or messy hair. I need that asshole to give me my phone back.
“Raiford.”
“What?” That wakes me up faster than caffeine. “No. No. What’s he doing there? Does he think he can just go there and visit Shane, without me, without even telling me?”
“He didn’t say, but I don’t think he’s there to visit an inmate. You need to apply first and get approved before you can, which takes several days, if not weeks. It’d be such a waste of time.”
The kid is right. “How do you know so much about visitation rules?”
His eyes flick to the hallway behind him for a split second. Then he shrugs, too fast, uncharacteristically casual. “I was aprivate detail for a guy whose brother got locked up. Same routine. Applications, background checks, fingerprinting.”
That’s the first time I catch Brandon in a lie.
I step forward, testing his boundary. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even shift his weight. But it’s too late. I know a made up story when I hear one. There’s no hiding it from me now. I’m not interested in the reason or the truth behind it though, not at the moment. What I’m looking for is leverage and distractions. “Can you go into Tristan’s room and bring me my phone please?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Mr. Morra said you’d ask for your phone and left strict instructions not to give it to you.”
Looks like Mr. Morra’s words are more intimidating than my leverage. “Fine. Can I useyourphone?”
“To call Mr. Morra?”
Smartass. “Sure. I need to remind him of his promise never to let me out of his sight, which he broke, again.”
“Technically, he didn’t let you out of his sight. He has active surveillance and tracking apps on his phone. Also, I report security stats every fifteen minutes, and I’m keeping my eye on you at all times.”
“Your phone, Brandon.”
“Sorry. He said no calls or internet until he returns.”
No internet as well. That means my laptop is a dead piece of metal, too. No wonder Tristan never bothered to take it. “Did he also tell you to keep me locked in here like a prisoner?”
