Chapter Twenty
Jayla
The federal agent questioning me had asked the same question seven different ways.
I had given him the same answer eight times.
“I did not steal the archive.”
Agent Clay leaned across the metal table.
“Twelve thousand dollars from Bishop Consulting entered your business account.”
“For a sneaker commission.”
“Commissioned by Kenzie Vale.”
“Yes.”
“Who was secretly employed by your mother.”
“I learned that after my studio was attacked.”
“And the encrypted keys?”
“Kenzie gave me one during the attack.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“We did.”
That caught my attention.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Where is she?”
“In federal custody.”
“Is she safe?”
“That depends on whether she cooperates.”
I sat back.
The interrogation room had no windows and one locked door. A camera watched from the corner. They had taken my phone, necklace, shoes, and even the pins from my hair.
I had no way to know where Malachi was.
No way to know whether the agents questioning him were legitimate.
Agent Clay opened a folder.
Photographs covered the first page.
Kenzie entering my studio. My mother outside Grandma’s hospital. Malachi carrying me through gunfire. Me wearing the Devereaux engagement ring.
“Our investigation suggests you helped Malachi obtain the archive so he could eliminate evidence against his family.”
“The archive contains evidence against his family. Why would he help open it?”
“To destroy selected files before authorities received them.”
“He gave information to Berkeley James.”
“A journalist, not law enforcement.”
“Because he didn’t know which agents were corrupt.”
Agent Clay’s smile disappeared.
“Be careful, Ms. Bennett.”
“Why? Did that feel personal?”
The second agent, a woman named Harper, lowered her eyes to hide her reaction.
Clay closed the folder.
“Malachi Devereaux is a murderer.”
“Yes.”
Both agents looked at me.
“He admitted killing Victor Devereaux,” I continued. “I don’t approve of it, and I wasn’t involved.”
“You expect us to believe he simply confessed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s trying honesty. It’s new.”
Harper almost smiled.
Clay didn’t.
“Your alleged fiancé has ordered at least seven murders.”
“Alleged?”
“You admitted the engagement was created for public protection.”
“We didn’t tell federal investigators it was real.”
“But you lied to the public.”
“That isn’t a federal crime.”
“Obstruction is.”
“Then charge every celebrity couple with matching magazine covers.”
Clay stood.
“Malachi is going to prison.”
“Then prove his crimes in court.”
“We already have.”
“No. You have an illegally released recording supplied by a criminal broker.”
His palm struck the table.
I flinched before I could stop myself.
Clay noticed.
His smile returned.
Men like him always noticed fear and mistook it for surrender.
“You should separate yourself from Devereaux while you still can,” he said. “Sign a statement saying he forced you to access the archive.”
“He didn’t.”
“You were frightened of him.”
“Sometimes.”
“He abducted you.”
“No.”
“He controlled your movements.”
“He protected me from armed people working for Bishop.”
“He announced an engagement without your consent.”
That part was irritatingly true.
“It was a terrible decision. Still not kidnapping.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
I thought about Malachi asking before touching me. Respecting my no. Standing beside me when his instinct demanded that he stand in front.
“I’m telling the truth.”
Clay walked toward the door.
“Think carefully. When I return, your loyalty may be the only thing keeping you in this room instead of a prison cell.”
The door closed behind him.
Agent Harper gathered the photographs.
“You don’t like him,” I said.
Her hands stopped.
“I don’t have an opinion.”
“You looked uncomfortable when he said Kenzie’s safety depended on cooperation.”
Harper glanced toward the camera.
“You should take the deal.”
“I’m not lying about Malachi.”
“Then you may not leave this building.”
The warning sounded different from Clay’s threat.
“Is that what Bishop wants?”
Her face became still.
The camera’s red light shut off.
Harper leaned closer.
“Clay’s name appears in the archive.”
My heartbeat changed.
“How do you know?”
“Berkeley sent selected files to my supervisor before you were arrested. Clay intercepted them and had him suspended.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because your arrest warrant was signed by a judge identified in those files. This operation isn’t authorized through normal channels.”
“Then who sent you?”
“I was assigned to Clay’s team before I knew what he was doing.”
“Where is Malachi?”
“Two floors below.”
“Is he safe?”
“For now.”
The camera light returned.
Harper stepped away.
The door opened, and Clay entered with two armed agents.
“We’re moving her.”
“Where?” Harper asked.
“Federal detention.”
“She hasn’t been processed.”
“Orders changed.”
Harper reached for her phone.
Clay took it.
“You’re finished here.”
His voice contained a warning.
Two agents pulled me from the chair.
I resisted.
“Where are you taking me?”
Clay leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“Somewhere Crown can’t find you.”
Red door.
The phrase entered my mind before panic could take over.
Malachi promised he would find me when I was afraid.
But he couldn’t come if he didn’t know where I was.
They escorted me into a private elevator.
Harper remained behind with Clay.
Before the doors closed, she pressed her hand against the glass.
Four fingers.
Then two.
Floor forty-two?
Four minutes, two guards?
I didn’t know.
The elevator descended into an underground garage. A black transport van waited with its rear doors open.
No government markings.
No cameras.
This wasn’t a transfer.
One agent reached for my arm.
I stepped back.
“I’m not getting inside.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I want my attorney.”
“You’ll call her when we arrive.”
“Where?”
He grabbed me.
My body reacted before my thoughts did.
I drove my heel into his foot and slammed my head beneath his chin. The second man caught me around the waist.
“Get her in the van!”
I screamed.
The garage lights went out.
Gunfire erupted.
The man holding me dragged me toward the vehicle. I kicked, clawed, and bit anything I could reach.
A shadow moved through the darkness.
The agent released me and fell.
Someone caught my shoulders.
I swung wildly.
“Jayla!”
I recognized the voice.
“Nia?”
Malachi’s mother pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
She wore a tactical vest and held a weapon with both hands.
“What are you doing here?”
“Fixing one of my mistakes.”
Another shot struck the pillar.
Nia fired back.
“You came alone?”
“I spent seventeen years working beside Lenora. I’m never alone.”
Three armed women emerged from separate vehicles and surrounded the van.
One of them was Berkeley James.
Apparently, journalism had changed since I last checked.
Berkeley opened the vehicle’s front door and dragged the driver onto the ground.
“Clay’s team is retreating,” she called.
Nia looked at me.
“Can you run?”
“That question is becoming too common.”
She almost smiled.
“We need to reach Malachi.”
“Where is he?”
“Still inside.”
“Then why are we leaving?”
“Because Lenora wants you. Clay won’t stop until he gets you out of this building.”
“I’m not leaving without Malachi.”
“Jayla—”
“No. You already left him behind once.”
The words struck their target.
Nia lowered her weapon.
“You’re right.”
Berkeley approached us.
“We have six minutes before legitimate federal agents lock down the garage.”
“Can you reach Asha?” I asked.
“She’s upstairs with a court order challenging both arrests.”
“Then we stay long enough for her to find us.”
Nia looked toward the elevator.
“If we return inside, Clay will know.”
“Good.”
I picked up the fallen agent’s weapon.
Nia took it from me and replaced it with a smaller one.
“This will be easier for you to control.”
“I don’t know how to use either.”
“Then remain behind me.”
I checked the magazine the way I had watched Malachi do.
“Beside you.”
Something like respect entered her eyes.
“Beside me,” she agreed.
We returned to the elevator.
I didn’t know whether Malachi was free, injured, or even aware that Clay had tried to take me.
I knew one thing.
I wasn’t waiting for Crown to rescue me this time.
Red doors worked both ways.