Page 17 of Velvet Chains
“I hate you,” Alek muttered. “I’m billing you extra for this.”
“I’ll give you a tip for good service, Ivanov.”
“I changed my mind. Arrest him,” Alek said dryly.
Fitzgerald grabbed something out of his pocket then, holding something in a plastic evidence bag—something small and black, like a SIM card. “We’ll be in touch,” he said. “Officially. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, flashing him a shiny smile.
Of course I wasn’t going anywhere.
Ruby was here.
“Bye, gentlemen,” Hayes said.
He left, and I heard them start talking to each other as he did. It wasn’t until they were out of earshot that Alek grabbed my arm. “You. With me. Now.”
I let him drag me around the corner like some misbehaving kid, mostly because I didn’t want to make a scene. Also because, if I was being honest with myself, I kind of respected the guy. That didn’t mean I liked him. But he wasn’t wrong. And for someone who looked like he’d rather be at a wine bar readingThe Economist, he was surprisingly scrappy.
We stopped by a vending machine next to a closed-off corridor, and he rounded on me like I’d just set his briefcase on fire.
“What the hell was that?” he hissed.
“Which part?” I asked. “The part where I stopped them from interrogating Ruby without representation, or the part where I volunteered to be the scapegoat for a murder she didn’t commit?”
“I am representation, Batman. I’m literally her lawyer.”
“Well, you weren’t doing a great job.”
“I was, actually,” he said. “I was doing a fantastic job until you showed up.”
“Really? Because she sounded like she was about to sob.”
“Someonedidtry to kill her last night,” Alek bit back. “Or maybe that was just about the bad sex.”
“Well, I don’t like it when Ruby cries—”
“Okay, you can’t just hide behind curtains and then jump in when you think Ruby might cry.”
I cocked my head. “Is that a fact, counselor?”
He ignored me. “Let’s talk about the important part of this.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Which is what, exactly?”
“The part where you confessed to murder, jackass,” he snapped, voice low but vibrating with fury. “In front of federal agents. In a hospital. After I told you to disappear.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said, leaning back against the wall, arms folded. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“No shit,” Alek muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stave off an aneurysm. “But maybe try listening to the guy whose entire job is keeping people like you out of prison.”
I shrugged. “They were coming after her. I made a call.”
He stared at me for a long beat, his jaw working like he was chewing through a list of insults and trying to pick the ripest one. “You made a call,” he repeated flatly.
“You’d have done the same thing,” I said. “If someone was breathing down her neck like that, and you had the power to make it stop, you’d have stepped in. You just would’ve done it with less style.”
He blinked. “Style? You call that style?”
