Page 13 of Silk and Steel

“If a car’s following you, they don’t do things that stick out. They’ll try to blend in.”

I groan in frustration. “Then how am I supposed to find them? Especially if I’m not supposed to look over my shoulder.”

Cole arches his brows and glances my way before answering.

“A tail will usually try to stay two to three cars behind you. You can make them reveal themselves by suddenly changing lanes or making an exit without signaling, but you might force their hand. It’s better to play the long game and let your tail think they’re still unseen.”

“How do you do that without freaking out?”

Cole shrugs. “It takes practice. Do you see anything unusual?”

“Um, there’s a blue Honda that’s been behind us for a while.”

“I noticed it, too. If they take the next exit with us it might be a cause for concern. Good eye.”

I’m glad he takes my concern seriously. We make the exit, but the Honda does not follow and I relax at last.

When we reach the private prison, my face twists into a rueful sneer. It looks more like a country club than a penitentiary, if you ignore the barbed wire fence running around the perimeter. Apparently, Cole thinks the same way I do.

“Can’t see why he would want to escape from this place.”

“I know, right?” I laugh, but it isn’t that funny. “Club Fed at its finest. Of course, he got sent to a luxury private prison.”

We roll up to the gate, and a guard comes over to the driver’s side. Cole shows his ID.

“Cole Drake, here to see Warden Miller. I’m expected.”

The guard ducks inside the pillbox, speaks briefly on a phone, and then comes back, handing Cole his ID.

“All right, Sir, please proceed along this road and take a left at the hairpin drive. You’ll be met by your escort there.”

Cole drives as directed, passing by a group of inmates working diligently in a gorgeous flower garden. Most of them areHollywood heavy hitters who broke the law one too many times to avoid the inside of a prison.

Sort of like my ex, come to think about it.

Cole parks the truck in the designated visitor’s area. An older man in a plain but well-tailored suit comes out to join us, the sun shining off his bald pate.

The man’s face splits in a wide smile when he sees Cole. He vigorously shakes Cole’s hand.

“So nice to finally meet you in person. John goes on and on about you. Says you saved his life on the Red Sea.”

“I’m sure he’s returned the favor multiple times. Thanks for letting us take a look.”

“No problem. I’ve had Lovejoy’s wing vacated for the afternoon. We need to buff the floors, anyway.”

The windows are sturdily locked, and the doors are metal with electronic means of opening and closing. Other than that, this could be a major university or public library. Hardwood floors, fancy paintings on the walls, and soft classical music wafting from overhead speakers.

We are led past rooms where inmates engage in painting, music, even martial arts training. The last one really irks me. Like, these men need to be made MORE dangerous before going back into public life.

Warden Miller takes us to the “cellblock” where Julian had been kept. It looks like a luxury resort, but for the bars on the windows.

Then we see his room, and my jaw hits the floor. The walls are plastered with photos of me, most of them clearly printed off the internet. It’s so unsettling, I can’t enter the cell. I lean my back against the wall in the hallway and try not to hyperventilate.

“Are you okay?” Cole asks.

“I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

Cole turns to the warden.

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