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“The only door you can get out of without a key is the front one.” Smugness saturated his voice, as if he knew I was trying to leave. “Come out, Kat.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Blowing out a breath,I moved toward the stage. It wasn’t like he could touch me if he was still cuffed to the pole. But I didn’t like how calm he was. It had my nerves bubbling as I stepped into his line of sight. He was leaning against the pole, the chain giving him just enough slack for him to cross his arms. His eyes shot to mine as I got closer so I could go down the steps on the side.
“What were you doing back there?” he asked, clearly curious, even though it was apparent he was still pissed.
“Trying to find a way to leave without seeing you.”
“It took you that long to figure it out?”
“I have all the time in the world with you stuck there.” I stayed far away from him as I inched closer to the steps.
“Did you talk to Noah?”
His question made me falter, and I spun to look at him. He stared at me, not moving as he stayed leaning on the pole.
“Yes,” I answered after a few moments.
“What did he say?”
“He admitted he shot you.”
“That’s it?”
I stalked closer to him, my anger flaring. I stopped, making sure I was still out of his reach as I tried to read his face. But he wasn’t giving anything away.
“He said you and West beat the shit out of him when he tried going with you.”
Eli’s eyes darkened as he scowled. I frowned, shifting on my heels to relieve my aching feet. Since coming home, I’d gotten used to wearing heels again, but these were higher than I was used to. I wished I’d brought different shoes.
“What?” I snapped. “Are you going to tell me he’s lying?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“I messed with your life for years. And we haven’t exactly been on good terms since you forced me back here. I have no reason to believe you over my brother, who’s sitting in prison. You’re trying to fuck with my head.”
Eli stayed quiet for a moment. The handcuff clanged against the pole as he slid down until he was sitting. He raised his knees and rested his arms on them.
“What if I can prove my side?” he asked.
My eyes widened before I could cover my surprise. Proof? If he had any, why didn’t they use it yesterday when they told me their version of what happened? Suspicion mixed with curiosity as we stared at each other.
“You want to hear it? Then sit down.” His gaze trailed to my feet before he met my eyes again. “This is going to take a while.”
“Did you call West?” I asked, not trusting him. “You’re trying to keep me here until someone else shows up.”
“My phone is still on the couch I was sitting on when I saw you dancing.” He nodded his head to the side, and I glanced over, seeing his phone on the small table in front of the closest couch to the stage. “I haven’t called anyone.”
“Why were you here?” I moved closer to him, stopping next to one of the chairs the dancers had used during the show. “Got a thing for burlesque?”
“I was meeting someone to discuss business.”
“Discuss what?”
“That’s not what we’re talking about. You want to hear about how I can prove my side of the story or not?”
Dread climbed through me as I stiffly sat down in the chair. I was about six feet away from him, still far enough that he couldn’t touch me. My aching feet were immediately relieved once I sat down. I dropped my bag on the floor next to me before crossing my arms.
