Page 49 of On Your Knees

"What are you thinking?" I ask, my eyes darting around the room for any sign of Lazarus or his crew.

Benedict’s jaw clenches, his gaze still focused on the crowd. “Hopefully we can learn something about Gregory tonight. See if they did in fact kill him.” His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tension there, a silent hope that tonight will bring answers.

A shiver runs down my spine at the mention of Gregory Saunders—the accountant whose name has haunted us both since the news of his death broke. The idea that the Delgados might be responsible gnaws at me, but before I can reply, something else catches my eye. My blood turns to ice as I spot a familiar figure strolling into the club, right beside Lazarus, like he’s a part of their world.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding music.

Benedict turns toward me, his sharp eyes narrowing in concern. “What is it?”

My throat tightens, and I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. The man walking with Lazarus, laughing and shaking hands like he belongs there.

“Christopher,” I breathe, my chest tightening as my ex-husband steps deeper into the club, his presence a tidal wave that threatens to drown me in memories I thought I’d buried.

“That’s him?” Benedict’s voice cuts through the chaos around us, sharp and controlled.

I nod, but my mind is spinning, my thoughts a mess of panic and disbelief. What are the odds? Out of all the places, all the nights, he had to show up here. There’s no way I can work the Delgado party now—not with Christopher in the same room. He’ll recognize me, no matter how much I’ve put into my disguise.

“I should get out of here,” I mutter, my voice shaky as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“Upstairs. The surveillance room. Now,” Benedict commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. There’s an urgency in his voice that matches the pounding in my chest, his body tense beside me.

I turn to leave, but it’s already too late. Christopher’s eyes lock onto mine from across the club, a brief moment of recognition flickering in his gaze. My heart stutters in my chest as time seems to freeze around us, the flashing lights and the pulsing music fading into the background. I can’t tell if he truly recognizes me or if it’s just a fleeting look, a trick of the low lighting. But I don’t give him the chance to figure it out.

Panic surges through me, and without a second thought, I bolt.

I fly up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, my legs burning with the effort. The noise of the club fades behind me as I ascend, my focus narrowing to the door ahead—the door that leads to the surveillance room where I’ll be safe, hidden, out of Christopher’s line of sight.

I burst through the door, the cold air inside hitting me like a wave as I lean against the wall, my chest heaving with exertion. The surveillance room is quiet, the hum of electronics the only sound as I try to catch my breath. Safe. For now. But the lingering fear stays with me. What if he knows? What if he comes looking for me?

Benedict arrives seconds later, his expression dark and unreadable. “Did he see you?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “But I can’t stay out there.”

“No, you definitely can’t.” Benedict strides toward the bank of surveillance screens, his fingers hovering over the controls as he scans for any sign of the Delgado party. His brow furrows in concentration, and the soft glow of the monitors casts shadows across his sharp features. “Maybe it’s best for tonight we both stay out of sight.”

I nod, the knot in my chest tightening with every second. “Yes. Good idea,” I agree, moving closer to the monitors, my eyes scanning the footage as if the answers are hidden there. “What do you think he’s doing here?” My voice is soft and quiet.

Benedict glances at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a hesitation, like he’s holding back. It’s subtle, but I catch it, and my stomach twists. He knows something. Something he’s not saying.

My mind starts racing, trying to piece together the scattered puzzle of information. Christopher was involved with Gregory Saunders—of that I’m sure. And Gregory Saunders was connected to the Delgados. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that Christopher is, too. But why? How deep does this go?

The realization hits me like a sledgehammer, the weight of it knocking the breath from my lungs. My eyes widen as the truth slams into me. Of course. It’s all connected. Saunders’ death, Christopher’s sudden appearance. It’s not a coincidence.

“Well, we know Christopher knew Gregory Saunders,” I whisper, the words barely audible. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can feel the walls closing in as the gravity of the situation sinks in. “He could know the Delgados too.”

Benedict turns fully toward me now, his expression more serious than ever. He doesn’t have to say anything. His silence speaksvolumes. He knew this, or at least suspected it. The cold, hard truth of it sits between us, and I feel the ground shift beneath my feet.

I want to drown in the flood of possibilities, to lose myself in the endless questions swirling in my mind. How long has this been going on? How much does Christopher know? And most terrifying of all… what does this mean for me?

“I need answers,” I mutter, my voice shaking. But I don’t know where to begin.

Chapter 23

Benedict

I watch Eva, her eyes wide with fear and suspicion as she stares at the surveillance screens. She’s piecing things together, I can see it in the way her expression shifts, her breath catching. She’s smart—too smart, really—but there’s only so much I can let her figure out. The truth, the full scope of what’s going on, would tear her world apart. And that’s a risk I can’t take.

I can’t tell her everything I know. I can’t tell her about the shell corporation we’ve been tracking, or how I think Christopher is tied to the Delgados in more ways than she’s realized. The connections between the money laundering, the trafficking ring, and her ex-husband are staring me right in the face, but I’m trapped. I can’t blow my cover. Not now, not when I’m this close.

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