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Dixon shot over her, pinning her to the mattress with his smooth chest and belly, his ass raised as he fumbled with something on the floor. Clothes rustled. His abdomen pushed into her. Another yawn cut through the air.
He wiggled back, notepad and pencil in hand. Which one is keeping you up? Your father or the idiot?
Lila shrugged.
The prime minister hasn’t replied yet?
Lila shook her head.
He probably didn’t want to wake you.
“He’s never worried about that before. What if he’s in a holding cell?”
What if he’s not?
“What if he is? Isn’t this just like me? I have immunity. I slither through, and other people pay for my mistakes. If I had done my job, Mr. Shaw would still be chief and my father would be asleep in Falcon Home.”
If only she’d worked harder finding La Roux all those weeks ago instead playing house with Tristan. If only she’d slipped into Bullstow three nights ago after Shaw’s demotion instead of latching on to the oracle’s case. She should have made sure Shaw’s files had been destroyed.
She hadn’t even thought about them. Why had he kept the files in his office, anyway? Why not somewhere more secure, some place he could access if needed? A safe deposit box? His mattress? His fireplace?
This isn’t your fault.
“Isn’t it? My father is going to die because—”
Because Shaw kept records. He’s the one who made the mistake, not you.
“Perhaps, but—”
They made their choices, Lila. Perhaps the meeting has lasted so long because they’re prompting the senate to change. Maybe now the committee will realize now what has been done to protect it.
“They called Mr. Shaw incompetent. They said that it was his fault for not providing his men with adequate training. They’re not going to change their minds now.”
There’s nothing you can do until your father messages you.
“I know.” She peeked at her palm again.
Still nothing.
That’s not the only thing keeping you up. I saw Tristan’s face after Katia and I returned. Something happened between you two while we were gone, didn’t it?
Lila opened her mouth, then closed it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
You haven’t wanted to talk about it for days.
Lila rolled away, turning back to the wall. “Blair is good for you. You’re writing a lot more now. You’re—”
His notepad smacked against the back of her head.
Lila winced, rubbing where it had struck. “I don’t want to—”
It’s adorable that you think you have a choice.
“What do you want me to say?”
I just want you to talk. We’re friends, aren’t we?
“You’re probably the best friend I have. Maybe the only friend.”
