Page 33 of Cruel Redemption

I’d never been so sure that Luka needed me.

Nineteen

Luka

The fluorescent light flickered. Off. On. Blink. Blink. Off for so long I thought it had died, then it sputtered to life again. The man in the corner, rocked beneath it, holding his arms against his chest. Another man spat at him to stop moaning, but he didn’t notice. I didn’t want to watch the spit slide down the guy’s cheek.

What the fuck was this place? Homeless men? Pick pockets? It smelled. It was damp. It was crowded.

They’d taken everything from me when I was booked. The cufflinks with theLNengraved on them. The Breitling watch. Even my tie. I was only a few hours away from an orange jumpsuit. I could feel it. See it in their eyes—they wanted to see me in that thing. If they could parade me around in that costume, it would mean they had won a battle in a long, unspoken war.

I rolled my sleeves up a few lengths and pushed them past my elbows. There was no air in here either.

My one call had been to Viktor. But what the hell did he know about criminal law? He waded through murky legal jargon and real estate deals. I still didn’t know what the cops had on me. What could they have? No one knew where in the hell Enzo was. Something or someone had put the spotlight on me. Nothing tied me to Enzo Barone. Nothing.

The man closest to me started coughing. I turned away from him.

The bailiff approached the door to the cell, rattling his keys to get everyone’s attention. “Novikov, you have a visitor.”

I took my time to stand. I wasn’t going to rush in front of this audience.

He rolled his eyes when I reached the cell opening. “This way.”

“Thank you.”

He led me through a narrow hall and to a room with a single table and two chairs. There was no one here yet. I sat, while the bailiff cuffed my wrists to the metal arches protruding from the table. I waited for Viktor.

When the door finally opened, I stared at my visitor.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked. “Where’s Viktor?”

He walked in briskly, dropping a leather briefcase next to his chair. “Viktor called me.” He sat and started scribbling on a yellow legal pad.

“Your name?”

I looked up. “Baxter Barnes.” He let the pen rest. “Look, I’m…I was your father’s counsel in these types of matters. Viktor knew to call me. I handle the more delicate situations.”

“Never heard of you.” I glared at him.

He huffed. “You wouldn’t have. Dmitry wanted it that way. I never worked in the front office.”

“Viktor didn’t mention you on the phone. He never said he was handing me off.”

“He did the right thing.”

I thought about testing him. Quizzing him to see what he knew about the Novikov business, but I didn’t know how much time I had in this room with him, and I needed to get out of this fucking place.

“Can you get me out?” I asked.

“I can.” He nodded. “But it’s going to cost you at the bail hearing.”

“How much?”

He wrote down a number, scratched it out and replaced it with a higher dollar amount. “The judge is ready in the morning. I’m hoping she’ll be lenient. You’re a member of the community, with ties here.”

“That’s what you’re going with?”

“You and I both know if you wanted to run and leave the country you could. I also know that Viktor said you aren’t going anywhere.”

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