Page 53 of Broken Promises

Declan climbs in the back as I adjust my seat. Maverick is already in the passenger seat. I see the two of them exchange a look while I adjust my mirrors.

“What? What was that look?” They both glance at each other again, which just makes me mad. “I will sing the entire three-hour drive. Don’t test me.” They both look alarmed, which is satisfying, but I keep my face in a scowl.

“I just thought Declan would be driving,” Mav says, but he’s tapping his fingers on his thigh. It’s a nervous tick of his. I’m sure he’s nervous about having to see his dad, but I’m getting the feeling that’s not the current problem.

“He has old man knees,” I say. Mav turns a pleading look on Declan.

“It’s just that your driving is a little scary, Princess,” Dec offers, trying to lighten the blow.

“Scary?” My voice rises in pitch. I can see Mav flinch out of the corner of my eye.

“It’s not scary, exactly,” Mav says nervously. “Just. . . aggressive.”

I curb my shock and smile. Declan and Maverick both look scared at the change, which just makes me smile wider.

“Buckle up, baby,” I say, catching Declan’s wide eyes in the mirror. “You too, Mav.” I turn to him just in time to see him scramble for his seat belt.

This is going to be fun.

“We’re here,” I singsong. I spent the last three hours singing show tunes and driving like I usually do. Judging from the gasps and a few worried yelps from Mav, I might need to adjust how I drive. You’d think if I was that bad, I would at least have been pulled over or even been in an accident. But I haven’t. Squeaky clean driving record over here, so I don’t know what they’re being so dramatic about.

After handing over our IDs to the guards at the gate and parking in the small visitor lot, Mav and I are led through a metal detector and into a bland room. The walls are eggshell white with a black linoleum floor that’s old and cracked. The small white tables with their matching benches are bolted to the floor. Harrison told us what to expect, but it’s depressing seeing it in person. Since the senator is being held on non-violent charges, he’s allowed visits like this. I was expecting the kind behind glass where you have to talk into a phone. Drug trafficking doesn’t seem non-violent to me either, but what do I know?

Maverick’s fingers are tapping his bouncing legs. I put my hand over his and it stops the bouncing, but his shaking becomes more evident. “It’ll be fine, Mav,” I lie. He knows it’s a lie, but he forces a smile, anyway. My heart aches for my friend.

Soon, a guard enters with James Wolfe in tow. He takes the senator’s handcuffs off and takes his post by the door.

“No cuffs?” I mutter under my breath in shock.

“Non-violent, remember?” Mav whispers back.

“Maverick, Ms. Prince,” Wolfe greets, taking the seat on the bench across from us. He folds his hands in front of him like he’s conducting a meeting. His salt and pepper hair is immaculately styled. He’s wearing beige pants and a shirt that resembles hospital scrubs. “Or is it Mrs. Monroe now?” The jerk smiles at me.

“You saw last night’s breaking celebrity news?” I ask sarcastically. “I didn’t take you for a fan of gossip.”

“You’d be correct. I keep abreast of any and all news surrounding my son and the people he’s allowed in his circle.” Wolfe smiles using that politician smile that was plastered all over the state of Maine during his many campaigns over the years.

“Dad, what did you do?” Maverick asks, losing all pretense that this is a friendly visit.

Wolfe clears his throat and shifts in his seat, almost like he’s uncomfortable, before looking at his son. “I did what I thought was best for my family. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

“I don’t think insider trading, kidnapping, or murder are good for any family,” I mutter.

Wolfe’s eyes flair in surprise.

“What? No insider trading?” I ask with a casual shrug. I should probably be playing nicer with this man, but there’s no way I was going to sit here and watch the way Maverick reacts to him without opening my mouth.

Wolfe leans forward, keeping his voice low. “While there may be some truth to the charges against me, I have never harmed or arranged harm of another person.” Maverick scoffs, but Wolfe doesn’t let up. “I know what you think I did, Maverick, and I can assure you that you’re wrong.”

“Which thing? Knocking Mom around or killing my boyfriend?” Maverick asks with so much venom in his tone that I have to double check it’s actually him sitting next to me.

“I,” Wolfe starts, “have never laid a hand on your mother or anyone else.”

“You don’t need to lie. I’ve seen your handy work,” Mav says, shrugging casually, though his fingers are still tapping out a soundless beat on his leg.

“You’re not listening, son.Ihave never caused physical harm to another.”

“Then who?” I ask, but Wolfe’s eyes immediately flicker to the guard and then to all the cameras in the room. He shakes his head when he meets my stare. I quickly glance at Maverick, who looks just as confused as I feel.

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