The Knight (Endgame #2)(15)
The water here takes forever to warm up, but the upside to freezing cold water is I’m wide awake after my shower. I brush my hair and throw on jeans and a T-shirt, this one announcing my inclusion in the Prep Academy chess club. Glancing at myself in the mirror, with damp hair and no makeup, I look like I might be in high school—not about to bid a million dollars in a high-stakes fight for my family.
A knock comes again.
I fling open the door, shouting, “I said I’m coming.”
The driver stands there, expression carefully blank. “Yes, of course.”
“Sorry,” I say, blushing. I look sideways, but Will has disappeared. “I’m ready.”
“Yes, miss.”
Harper seems to have gone back to sleep, judging from the soft, somehow feminine snore, so I don’t bother to wake her. Instead I throw myself into the back seat of the limo, breathless and urgent. He rolls out of the parking lot with careful slowness. How late am I?
Nervously I tap on the dividing window.
It rolls down. “Yes, miss?”
“Umm, what time is it?”
“Ten o’clock.”
I blink. “I thought the auction doesn’t start until three.”
“Mr. Miller thought you might like to spend time in the house before the auction.”
Because I might not win. This might be my last chance to see my mother’s home.
“Oh. That’s…nice of him.” Suspicion rises up, and I force it back down. Why do I always think the worst of Gabriel Miller? Oh, that’s right—because he systematically destroyed my family and defiled me.
“Yes, miss.”
And I have a new resource at my disposal to learn something—the driver. What kind of chess player would I be if I didn’t take advantage of an opening?
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Byron,” he says, sounding cautious himself.
Apparently exposure to Gabriel Miller heightens paranoia. The driver might have signed some kind of nondisclosure agreement. But I don’t want to know particulars of his habits. And I definitely don’t want any business secrets. What I want to know about is the man.
Purely for manipulative purposes, of course. Not because I actually care about him.
“How long have you worked for Gabriel?”
A pause. “Six years, miss.”
I try to keep my voice casual, as if I’m making conversation—even if we both know I’m fishing. Can he blame me? Both he and I are pawns in Gabriel’s game. Small pieces to be moved around. Unimportant. Powerless. Imagine what we could accomplish if we worked together.
“Were you a driver before that?”
“In a manner of speaking.” There’s another pause, longer this time. I can almost see the roadblock he’s putting up in front of me, the warning signs to turn back. In the end he lets me through. “I was in prison, actually. Before that I drove for an armored car company.”
Prison? My throat tightens. “Oh.”
He continues with less hesitation, as if now that he’s made the decision to tell me, he can share everything. “I got mixed up with a bad crew. They had this plan to knock over a bank, using the armored driver as an inside man. And I would have gone along with it, too.”
Curiosity gets the best of me. “Why didn’t you?”
“When we got close, the plan changed. First I was going to be the only one armed, and I wouldn’t have shot anyone. But then they got ahold of some automatic weapons. They claimed they wouldn’t hurt anyone, but it started getting out of hand. I didn’t want to do it, but I was in too deep.”
I’m leaning forward in the seat, literally on edge. “What happened?”
“It was too late to bow out. I knew too much. They would have offed me and then done it anyway. So I tipped off the cops and went in as their inside man instead.”
“Oh my God.”
“Never thought I’d be a rat, but I couldn’t let anyone get hurt.”
My breath is caught. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“Only me. When shit hit the fan, the cops came busting in. My buddy, all the way from grade school, he saw that I’d snitched. Shot me once in the chest before they brought him down.”
“Oh no.”
“Had a couple surgeries. By the time I woke up, most of the plea deals had been made. I took what they gave me. Three years in minimum security for my part.”
I frown. “That seems like a lot. You helped them.”
“I should have locked in a plea deal before handing over the information, I guess. Should have had a better lawyer. I didn’t mind too much. Minimum security isn’t a bad gig.”
“And Gabriel hired you when you were released?”
Another pause. “Before I was released.”
Before. “What could you do from inside?”
“He had a friend in there. Three months. Make sure he makes it through and I’d have a big bonus when I got out. He gave me the bonus and offered me a job too. Said anyone strong and loyal had a place with him.”
“That sounds like Gabriel.”
We pull off the freeway into an area with large estates and gated communities. Affluent. Exclusive. A place I had always felt at home, but it looks foreign now. I’m a tourist in my own country.