“A week.” It was a weak counter.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the best?” She sniffed but he thought he detected a touch of amusement. “Thirty-six hours.”
Better. Still not great.
Could he pull together a believable set of files for Portia and plot his own escape in a day and a half?
“Seventy-two.”
“Forty-eight hours. Not a minute more.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard and a clock appeared on the wall to his right. Forty-seven hours, fifty-nine minutes, and a few seconds.
An amusing trick, if it wasn’t the time he had to get his affairs in order.
He wasted precious time watching the clock. Whether he got free or he got dead, his time at the Tremaine Corporation was truly limited.
“You’ve got a deal.”
Ash stood, hopeful his legs would support him. “I’ll just get started.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her tone was biting.
“Back to my shift.” Security had dragged him out and the rest of the team would no doubt have questions. Ones he couldn’t answer. But that was easier than trying to focus around Portia.
“You have less than forty-eight hours. That seems like a waste of precious time.”
He hated that she was right, but he needed the time to pull himself together. Needed the time to decide which false trail to provide. He’d initially intended to frame one of his colleagues. It was still the smart play, but he felt like an asshole.
“I know,” he said. “But it’s my forty-eight hours, right?”
Portia shrugged.
“I’ll be back after my shift,” he told her as he stood.
“As you said, it’s your choice.”
Ash hid a smile. He’d actually miss working with Portia. The woman was whip-smart with a sense of humor he didn’t think many people saw.
“I understand why you wanted to free your sister,” she said as he approached the door. “Wherever you have her, I hope she’s receiving the same quality medical care we provided.”
His stomach cramped. Portia had pinpointed one of his major worries—that moving Hope would negatively affect her health. At the Tremaine medical center, she’d always appeared well cared for, but her condition had never changed. She’d just gotten thinner and remained unresponsive.
Ash’s jaw clenched. He’d uncovered records on a possible cure for brain burn, but Phillip Tremaine had never approved its implementation. Ash had copied those documents and secreted them away for the day when Hope was free and they could attempt it.
“I didn’t do it,” he repeated. Taryn had kept the details from him for just this reason. He couldn’t tell what he didn’t know.
“I don’t care,” Portia said. “You’ve made a powerful enemy, Mr. Cutter. It didn’t have to be that way.”
He nodded. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
There was nothing he could say that would sway her to his side. He ignored the twinge of pain that thought brought. He’d grown to like and respect one of the most feared women in the city.
He’d fallen in love with the other one.
Ash itched to call Taryn and ask about Hope. How she was doing. Whether she needed anything.
Where she was.
He believed Portia when she said she wanted the best care for Hope. And maybe she was right, that Hope would be better at the Tremaine medical center.
