Page 110 of Mob Bride

Phil turns to me. “Mr. O’Rourke, did you pick up Ms. Pritchard?”

Four voices respond. “No.” I remain quiet.

“Your antics might have worked in the elevator, but they won’t work here with me.”

I wonder if someone called him and let him hear the conversation or if there is a camera in the elevator. Maybe he’s assuming something happened since we clearly annoyed his agents.

“Mr. Shane O’Rourke, did you pick her up from wherever she sheltered?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She was in danger.”

“From whom?”

“She already told you.”

“Did you know that’s who she ran from?”

“I found out.”

“How?”

“I heard it.”

“From whom?”

“Someone.”

Phil’s rapid firing the questions, and I’m just as fast to answer. It’s easy to predict what’ll come next, so it’s easy to have a response ready.

“My agents found Ms. Pritchard naked and in bed with you. You were naked, too.”

I watch Carrie, who shows no outward reaction, even though I’m certain she’s mortified. There’s no question posed, so I remain silent. I won’t offer anything, and I’ll only give the most evasive answers.

“Ms. Pritchard, were you there by your own free will, or did Mr. O’Rourke force you?”

“I chose where I slept.”

“And that was with Mr. O’Rourke.”

“You said ‘there,’ as in a location. I told you where I slept. Your question didn’t ask with whom.”

“Don’t be pedantic, Carys.”

“Don’t co-opt my responses.”

“Did you sleep with Mr. O’Rourke?”

“Your agents found me in bed with Mr. O’Rourke, who was also asleep.”

“Are you having sex with Mr. O’Rourke?”

“No. I’m sitting in a chair.”

“Are you sexually involved with Mr. O’Rourke?” Phil’s patience is about to snap.

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