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“How I know isn’t as important as what I know. Now, unless you want to continue to discuss this here, I suggest you pack a bag.” His expression gave nothing away.
My nervousness about what he knew or which side he was on was less than the worry I had about pulling Geneva into my hot mess. Surely, if he was telling me to pack a bag, he didn’t intend to kill me. But what if he was supposed to take me to my father, or worse, Ivan?
It would be doubtful that my father would stoop to hiring Ogun’s club if he held such disdain for them. Yet, with my father, one never knew. He wasn’t above stooping to deplorable levels if it meant he got what he wanted. So using a club he looked down on wasn’t a long shot.
“Did my father hire you?” I asked in a whisper.
“No.”
Studying his eyes, I couldn’t see signs that he was lying, but he could be good at it too. Except, something in my guts said he wasn’t a liar.
“Okay.”
It might be something I wouldn’t live to regret, but I decided to trust him.
