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I guess saying I haven’t seen Knox is a lie. Because I’ve seen him every few nights for the past month on my television. The phone Luke gave me has remained quiet. I half expected him to show up and say something to me.
But that would give it away, wouldn’t it? That he’s part of the plot.
So while I write, I also muse about the inner workings of his operation. I keep it circulating in the back of my mind, then finally draw it on a piece of paper.
At the center is someone I don’t know. A big question mark, because Luke referred to a boss. Straight out from the boss is Luke. Luke’s connected to the guy I saw at the club, who supplies money? He said something about getting money together.
Under him, I write:Bank?
Also connected to Luke is the assistant coach. Whether or not he’s actually the man Luke has on the inside is up for debate, but I saw them talking to each other in the hallway that one time. So he’s messing things up for the Titans, but clearly not enough to cause losses anymore.
Unless the betting has swung in the other direction, then they’re letting the Titans win again.
I tap my finger against my chin, then fold the paper and shove it into my bag.
When I arrive back at my hotel at the end of the day, my door is cracked open. I stop and drop my heavy, typewriter-laden bag in the hall and fish the pepper spray out of my purse.
I push the door open as quietly as possible, creeping in. My thumb is on the spray, ready to press?—
“It’s just me.” Knox flicks on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. “Jesus, Sunny, were you going to Mace me?”
“Better than the Taser.” Which is also in my purse. I go and retrieve the bag I left in the hall, then move the lock so the door can fully close. “How’d you find me?”
“Well, it took three weeks.” He frowns. “Don’t you ever go home?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He stares at me like he can’t fathom it. “Why?”
I cross my arms. “You’re not seriously asking me that question.”
He nods, accepting that. Accepting my answer, or whatever he assumes my answer is. I mean, I got beat up there. My face looked like it went through a meat grinder, my dental bill was insane, andyeah, the nightmares that were plaguing me were enough to make me run away.
If he doesn’t understand that, he doesn’t have to. Although it would be nice if he did without asking in the first place.
Until he opens his mouth and says the one thing I don’t expect.
“Luke Abernathy.”
I stop.
“Yeah, thought that name might get a reaction.” He narrows his eyes. “Or a non-reaction.” He lifts the black flip phone I had left charging. “He texted, you know.”
Shit. Everything in me goes hot and cold all at once. A littledangersiren screaming in my ear. Warning me not to drag Knox into this. Not to draganyoneinto this.
I scramble for the phone, but it puts me in close proximity to Knox.
And that’s my mistake.
He wraps his arm around my waist and flings me onto the floor. He’s on me in an instant, wrenching my arms behindmy back. My cheek presses into the rough carpet, and I try to remember to breathe.
It’s not painful.
Uncomfortable, but notpainful. I don’t think I could escape his hold if I struggle, so I just freeze. Fight or flight, I pick the third option. The one that immobilizes me.
“‘Time to pull more strings with your husband,’” he reads, leaning over me and running his lips across my ear. “Now why is Luke Abernathy, the Titans’ owner’s son, asking you to pull strings with me?”
I can’t answer.
