Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(45)

As we stood in the linoleum-lifeless hallway, David pursed his lips, glancing at me quickly. That was the difference between a friend and employee. David was my friend, but he was ultimately my staff, and what I wanted...I got.

Just like I’ll get what I want from Greg.

Because there was no other option. I couldn’t fail.

I kept my hands folded in front of my black slacks and cream shirt, going for a somber uniform with my long hair curled in a knot at the base of my skull. It made me look older, stricter...cutthroat.

I wanted Greg to fear me.

I wanted him to quake knowing what he’d done and how hard I’d go after him to teach him a lesson.

The police officer stood from his plastic chair, hoisting up his utility belt. “I wasn’t told—”

“You will. Expect a call any second.” David smiled just as the officer’s walkie-talkie crackled and a female voice alerted him to a visitor arriving at any moment and to clear access.

“That would be me.” I nodded at the guard, moving to peer through the glass window of the door.

The officer stepped aside and then there he was.

The man I no longer understood or knew. The man who held the life of another in his rotten little paws.

“Five minutes,” the officer said, dragging a hand through his short blond hair.

“Five minutes is all I need.” Turning the doorknob, I looked back at David.

He ground his teeth, his head slightly cocked. “I’d ask if you wanted me to join you. But I think I already know the answer.”

“You do.” I patted his arm. “I want to be alone with him.”

He scowled but accepted it. “Scream if you need me.”

I laughed under my breath. “Got it.”

Inhaling deep, I pushed the door and traded the sharp smell of disinfectant and giggles of nurses for the more subtle smell of a man I’d grown up with hidden beneath medicine and bleach.

Sudden gratefulness filled me. The last time I was in the hospital was to stay vigil at my father’s bedside while he recovered from his heart attack. We’d walked out together, and I wouldn’t be here today visiting Greg if it wasn’t for him.

I’d called the police station and asked for a meeting but had been laughed off the phone.

I’d asked Larry to arrange it—believing he’d have contacts that would make it easy—but he had no jurisdiction over a felon who wasn’t his client.

That left me near tears and furious when Dad walked in to bid me goodnight. I’d spilled my frustrations, and he’d mentioned he’d ask one of his friends to see if he could help.

Up until this morning, I had no hope that anything would come of it.

But the minute I walked wearily into my office, Dad had announced I had a meeting arranged thanks to Patrick Blake.

I hadn’t managed to spend much time with Dad since my reassurance and the many hugs after my abduction, but I squeezed him so damn hard when he gave me the news.

Apparently, Patrick Blake—fishing buddy and fellow golf enthusiast—was actually a judge.

Belle Elle hadn’t been free of its own lawsuits and court appearances over the last few decades and thankfully, Dad had befriended a few people along the way.

He fished with a high judge. He played golf with a district attorney. He had friends who had held his hand while grabby people tried to sue for ridiculous things like incorrect sizes offending their snowflake personalities.

He hadn’t once asked for favoritism or help fighting such claims. But for me, he’d requested approval and managed to give me the five minutes I needed to try and save Penn’s life.

Not that I told him it was for Penn.

He would’ve said no.

He’d approved of Penn before this nightmare, and I hoped he’d stand by him while incorrectly incarcerated for something as noble as saving me. However, what he wouldn’t approve of was Penn’s prior convictions or his unsavory background.

He was a good man, my father, but a snob through and through. Only the best of the best could marry his daughter and run Belle Elle. Which was hypocritical when he put so much energy into getting me together with Greg, only for him to be the worst of all.

Greg opened his eyes as I shut the door with a harsh slap, getting his attention.

“Shit...Elle?” He sat higher in bed, shuffling against the mountain of white pillows, his skin rosy with health not white with sickness. “Came to visit. You love me after all, huh?”

His smirk made me rage.

I hated that he was here being pampered while Penn was in jail going through who knew what.

My hands curled, holding back my temper. “Shut up, Greg.”

His forehead furrowed. For a moment, it looked like he’d retaliate and a small frisson of fear bolted into my legs remembering how it felt to be washed unwanted by him. To be naked in front of him. Cook for him. Such normal things but it left a terrible taste in my mouth that could never be washed away by mint toothpaste.

He’s a creep. Nothing more.

Stalking toward the bed in my high black heels, I stopped close enough to glower but far enough not to touch.

My eyes fell on his wrist on top of the starched sheets. A silver handcuff attached him to the steel frame of the bed.

That was karma. A few days ago, I was the one in cuffs. Now, he had the joy.

I smiled before I could school myself to be cold and aloof. “I see it’s your turn to be imprisoned.”