19. Nineteen
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 the LN engraved 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.”
“I’m not,” I stated.
“My job is to make that case in front of the judge. I’ll get you out on bail.”
“And what about Enzo? Is anyone out looking for him?”
“They are. They’re scouring every property you own. Every inch. I saw the warrants.”
My stomach dropped. Amara. They would find her. Fuck.
“Baxter, you have to get out of here. I need you to drive to the stables. I’ll draw a map. Whatever. I need you to go there. And…” I started to pull on the cuffs. They cut into my wrists. I needed the pen and paper to draw the map for him.
He leaned closer. “I never asked if you were guilty or innocent. Don’t start a fucking confession.”
“It’s not a confession,” I barked. “I’m keeping someone safe. Someone else from getting kidnapped. She was grabbed too when Enzo was, but she got away. I wanted her to lie low while we figured out which family did this.” I gritted my teeth together. “I did not kidnap Enzo. I wouldn’t. There’s no reason.”
“Who is at the stables?” he asked.
“Amara Amato. Can you get her to Ciro? I don’t know the guy’s last name. He just goes by Ciro. I’ll give you all the information. He’s her head of security.”
He looked confused, but slid the pad of paper within my reach, along with the pen.
I did the best I could to recall numbers and addresses. I relied too much on my phone.
“Before this is cut short, how did these charges even stick?” I asked. “Why would anyone suspect me of this?”
Baxter Barnes leaned over. “Anonymous tip. Said they saw you pull him off the street.”
“What? That’s fucking insane,” I roared.
The attorney shrugged. “Problem is that sometimes insane is enough when the sharks are looking for blood. Something about you being a sworn enemy to Amara Amato, the woman you’re hiding. This is your way of getting back at her—taking her right-hand man. The detectives have started interviewing people about the feud between you two. They know you’re in debt to her because of your father’s arrangements.”
“Oh fuck. Look, that’s not?—"
The door opened. The bailiff stood, waiting to take me back to holding.
“Novikov,” he grunted.
I nodded at him. “Get it done,” I urged Baxter. “There’s nothing more important than her. And she’ll tell you everything about the last twenty-four hours.” The bailiff unlocked the cuffs from the table.
“I’ll see you at the hearing in the morning, Mr. Novikov.”
“Just go,” I growled. “Get to her.”
All I could think about was the police surrounding the cabin and Amara unaware of a single thing going on.
The bailiff unlocked my ankles so I could walk. “Come on.” He tugged on my elbow. I shuffled to the door.
“Make sure she is safe with Ciro,” I called as he pulled me out of the room. I didn’t care if I rotted in this place as long as he made sure she wasn’t hurt.