26. Bradyn
CHAPTER 26
brADYN
“ W ell, well, Mr. Hunt. I have to say, this is not how I saw our second meeting going.”
Klive Brown enters the interrogation room, and I tilt my head to glare up at him. I’ve been sitting here for two hours, waiting for him to arrive. All while I tried not to think too hard on the fact that they were searching the rooms, looking for Kennedy. All I can do is hope that Jaxson and Elijah were able to get her out.
“And just how did you see it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe back at the ranch as I sipped some of your mother’s delicious sweet tea.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“The day is young.” He grins. “I bet she has a pitcher in her fridge right now.”
He’s trying to rattle me, but I don’t let him see the hits landing.
“See, then we’d at least be comfortable when I tell you that the woman you’ve been harboring is wanted for murder.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tosses a photograph down on the table. The same one printed in the newspaper, only someone has enhanced it. “Who is this?”
“Sammy Lewis,” I reply.
He glares back at me. “We can play this game all day, Hunt.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” When I was in Special Ops, I spent seven months as a POW in hostile territory, in a country that no one even knew we were in. I had no clue if someone was coming after me or if I’d ever manage to escape, but I held firm because my faith carried me through.
Stronger men have tried to make me crumble. But I built my house on an unshakable foundation.
This guy is one more in a long line of men who will not break me.
I just have to hope they get me out before he decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth. I’m not afraid to die, but I am afraid of being one less obstacle between them and Kennedy.
“Kennedy Smith,” he growls, pointing to the photograph. “That’s her name.”
“I thought you said she was Olivia Brown. Your stepsister, if I’m not mistaken. Come on, Klive, your story’s not quite checking out. What is it they say? The math isn’t mathing.”
He rears back and slams his fist into my jaw.
I spit some blood out onto the table then glare up at him.
His cheeks turn red. “Let’s cut to it, okay? You were spotted with a woman matching this description, leaving the same hotel two men were later found dead at. I have you on murder charges, Mr. Hunt.”
I say nothing. Just stare straight ahead at him because I know that, if they were to truly charge me with those, the men would likely be traced back to him. It’s a bluff and one I’ve no intention of playing into.
Especially since only one was dead when I left. Cleaning up messes seems to be a Klive Brown special.
“Is that what you do for the senator? Clean up your daddy’s messes?”
Klive’s nostrils flare. “Mr. Hunt, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Personally, I don’t care either way.”
I don’t respond.
Klive continues glaring at me, his expression turning more and more murderous with every second that passes. “Fine. Want to play tough?” He stands. “A few hours in a cell should loosen you up.” He walks toward the door and taps on it. An officer opens it up, and two more come into the room.
My hands are unchained from the table, and I stand then place both hands behind my back so they can be handcuffed again. As we make our way down the hall and into what I imagine is a holding cell beneath the jail, I can’t help but notice the lack of attention the other officers are paying me.
In fact, none are looking in my direction. Not even a glance. It’s like they’re going out of their way not to see me. Which means they don’t want to be held liable for what happens if they do.
Fantastic.
We descend a set of stairs and reach the bottom of a windowless room with two large cells. One is empty. In the other are five muscled, angry-looking men, all looking at me like I’m the only thing standing between them and freedom.
“How many of these big fellas are on your Christmas card list?” I ask as they open the cell door, uncuff me, and push me inside.
“Do what you need to do to loosen his tongue, but don’t kill him,” Klive orders.
“So all of them then.” I roll my neck. “Fantastic.”
The first one charges—a large man with a neck tattoo. He rips a small blade free and tries to jam it into my gut. I dodge to the side and grip the top of his jacket then slam him headfirst into the bars.
Another attacks.
A fist slams into my side, and I grunt but drop down and sweep out my legs, bringing my attacker down to the ground. Rolling to the side, I narrowly avoid a boot to the face. Then I’m back on my feet.
But my speed and size don’t matter in here.
Not when I’m outnumbered in close quarters.
Neck tattoo grips my arm, twisting it just to the point of pain, while another holds my other arm, keeping me on my knees.
A third comes up behind me and grips my hair, ripping my head up and exposing my throat. Klive grins at me from the other side of the bars. Copper tang fills my mouth, but I don’t let him see even an ounce of fear.
Because the truth is I’m not afraid.
“Let’s try this again. Where is Kennedy Smith?”
I don’t respond.
“We don’t have to kill you right away. We can start by just taking a bit off the top.” He nods to the guy with his hand on my hair, and he presses the blade against my ear.
“I wouldn’t touch a single hair on his head if I were you,” a woman calls out. Heels click against the concrete floor as a brunette wearing a light-gray pencil skirt and matching jacket crosses over toward me. Her hair is up in a tight bun, her lips painted a bright red.
I’ve never seen her before, but I can’t say I don’t applaud her timing.
“Who are you?” Klive demands.
“Mr. Hunt’s lawyer,” she snaps and reaches into her briefcase before pulling out a folded-up piece of paper. She hands it to Klive, who unfolds it angrily.
“You’re from Boston.”
“And?”
“How exactly does he have a lawyer from Boston?” Klive demands, a snarky grin on his face as though he just caught her red-handed.
She smiles sweetly, but it’s dripping with venom. “I tell you what, Mr. Brown, you explain to me how you got an entire precinct to pretend you don’t exist, and I’ll explain to you how Mr. Hunt came to acquire a lawyer out of Boston. No? Don’t want to play ball?”
He glares at her then back to me. “Let him out,” he orders the officers.
“Fantastic,” she says. “Come on, Mr. Hunt.”
“This isn’t the end of things,” Klive calls out.
I stop and turn toward him.
“I’ll find her, and there’s nothing that will get in my way.”
Because responding to his threat would only fuel his fire, I simply turn back around and follow the lawyer out of the precinct.
After getting everything they’d confiscated from me despite never actually booking me on anything, I climb into the passenger seat of a Kia Telluride while the mystery lawyer gets into the driver’s seat.
“Mr. Hunt, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, offering me her hand. “I’m Beckett Wallace. A close friend of Margot and Jaxson Payne.”
I take her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, too. Have to say, your timing is impeccable.”
She laughs and pulls out of the parking lot. “You looked like you held your own. At first, anyway.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t quite sure how I was walking out of that one.”
“God didn’t let my plane be late,” she replies with a wink as we get onto the freeway.
“They made it out then?” It’s a pretty easy parallel to draw given that the only people who could have called in a lawyer were Jaxson, Elijah, or Kennedy.
“They did.” She tosses me a cell phone. “Untraceable. I’ve been told to have you use it instead of yours.”
I don’t hesitate before dialing Elliot’s number. He answers on the first ring. “Hunt.”
“It’s Bradyn.”
He mutters something to someone else. “Thank God, Bradyn. Where are you?”
“Beckett Wallace got me out. We’re in her car.”
“Jaxson told us she was headed out that way,” Riley calls out. “But we were about to pull a full-on prison break if she couldn’t get to you.”
I glance over at the lawyer. “I don’t get the impression she takes no often.”
Beckett grins at me. “You’d be correct on that assumption. If I’m the she you’re referring to.”
“How is Kennedy doing?”
“Restless. Mom’s hanging out with her at your place. It’s the furthest from the road and the best protected.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s alive. Restless I can deal with. Anything else would destroy me.
“Beckett is bringing you to an airfield where Elijah has a plane waiting. A buddy of his has a license, and he’ll bring you back here. Then we can go from there.”
“Thanks. Let her know I’ll be there soon.”
“Will do, brother.” I end the call and offer the phone back to Beckett, but she shakes her head.
“All yours, cowboy.”
“So what am I looking at going forward? With the arrest?”
“Nothing. They never pressed charges. There’s not even a record of you being brought in.”
“Then what was on that paper you handed him?”
“A fun little note letting him know that I’d own him and his boss if they didn’t let you out.”
“How so?”
“I have friends in high places,” she replies, clearly unwilling to share. The secrecy doesn’t bother me, though. Not when it got me out of what likely would’ve been an incredibly painful afternoon.
“Thanks for showing up.”
“Of course. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for Margot. She and I have been best friends since childhood, and seeing her happy with Jaxson after that ex of hers destroyed her makes me indebted to him too. That, and I hate bullies who think they’re above the law.”