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"King and Ellis's right-hand man were the only employees unaccounted for since his disappearance, and Victor Sidhrov was found with his throat slit last year."
I jerk upright again, my adrenaline level spiking at his insinuation. "Do they think she killed him, too?" That's ridiculous.
"We haven't been able to get our hands on his autopsy report. From what we learned, the knife is what connects King to Ellis's murder. And the witness."
"What witness?" Rhys looks between us like he's watching a tennis match.
I close my eyes. "The girl that was raped."
"Correct." George sounds almost apologetic. "She placed King at the club. The report says she confirmed that King dropped her off at the hospital. She did, however, state that she didn't see her killing Ellis. The girl was drugged and injured."
"Can't we use that?" A flutter in my belly gives me hope.
"Lilly contacted her legal team. Unfortunately, the knife is strong evidence," George explains.
My throat closes, and I can't swallow. "I want to see her. I need to know she's okay." The shadows in my vision are back.
"There is nothing we can do at this point. The jet is on its way to LA to pick up the family's attorney. But he already informed Lilly that he doubts anything can be accomplished over the weekend."
"WHAT?" He's got to be fucking kidding me. "They can't leave her in there over the weekend. She's fucking pregnant."
Jesus Christ.
I kick one of the plastic chairs with my boot, and it shoots across the room.
I peer at the clock on the wall. It's barely three on Friday. At the thought of her being in a cell for the next two-plus days, I can taste the bile coating my tongue.
"There is nothing we can do—" George starts, but I refuse to hear him.
"I'm not leaving."
"Bro," Rhys tries, but I plant my ass back down.
"Guess we're staying." Rhys plops down next to me, moving the chair next to him in front to prop his feet up.
I side-eye him, wanting to tell him that he can leave and needing him to stay equally. In the end, he makes the choice for me, and I am grateful for my friend.
"Okay, let me see what else I can find out," George relents and makes his way back out.
Saturday morning,I'm sandwiched between Den and Kiwi. Den showed up not long after I got comfortable in my plastic chair, and Kiwi joined us late last night. He threw a complete hissy fit that no one called him, and he had to find out from Zeke, who got texts from Mack, who was told by Chelsea, who heard it from Mags. Zeke was at practice, which delayed it even more. That being said, neither D nor Kiwi has left my side for longer than a quick pee.
Den is leaning against my shoulder, and I'm about to doze off again when Lilly and Marcus walk through the door. I'm out of my seat so fast D bumps into Rhys on her other side—who had been snoozing soundly—and he falls off his chair in a loud thud.
"What the hell?" No one pays his bitching any attention.
I scan both their faces. "Where is George?" If they are here, that means he is not.
"He got a call and had to leave," Marcus explains.
Leave? What the—?
Lilly's bodyguard has dark circles under his eyes, and it's apparent he hasn't slept either. He even lacks his usual hatred toward Den.
"Jaxon is meeting with Agent Oatis right now," Lilly says as she helps her husband off the floor.
"Jaxon?" Who the hell is that?
"My legal counsel for, uh…non-business-related matters." Lilly bites her lip, and I understand.
