I grab my phone and dial Rex. It rings again and again while my grip tightens.
Someone else answers.
“Roy Residence. How may I direct your call?” The voice is male, with a touch of an accent I can’t place.
“Is Rex there?”
“This is Mr. Roy’s residence, yes.”
I pull my phone away to check the number. The contact still reads Sir.“I thought this was his cell.”
“It automatically routes to this line when he’s unable to pick up. I’m Hamish Hitchcock, his house manager.”
Rich people and their freaking layers of staff. “I need to speak to him. “
“I can take a message for him. But he’s currently indisposed.”
“Is he there? At his residence?”
“At Roy Manor, yes. But?—”
I hang up. Rex isn’t going to avoid me so easily.
When I march out of the station, Ivan is idling in his black town car across the street. I head for him, and he sees me jaywalking and rolls down his window as I approach.
“I need you to take me somewhere.”
“Anywhere. I’m at your service.”
Excellent. It’s times like these I can see why a driving service would come in handy. I hop into the front seat and toss my bag into the back. “Roy Manor, please.”
Ivan doesn’t hesitate to put the car into drive. I settle back in the seat, plotting what I’ll say to him when I see him. In all my dealings with Rex, I’ve realized how powerful he is. How he wields his wealth like a weapon.
But he has a weakness, and it’s time I exploit it.
But as we pull into traffic, I remember Rex’s promise:Next time you come to me, I’m keeping you.
The route to Roy Manor takes us out of the city, and we wind through the northern boroughs until we come to a pine-lined parkway that leads through the hills. The sun is sinking as the car climbs higher and higher. In the rearview mirror, the high-rises downtown glow with the sunset’s flame-colored light.
Then the road dips and the city disappears.
I shift in my seat. It took us an hour to get through city traffic alone, and sitting this long is making me stiff. “Do you drive Rex all this way every day? It seems like a long way to commute.”
Ivan chuckles. “Naw. He has a place in the city. But when he heads to the Manor, he takes a chopper.”
“Right.” I’ve seen the helicopters flying in and out of the port. Of course, Rex would use one of them. Rich people don’t sit in traffic.
Ivan motions to the back seat. “Water?” At my nod, he hands me a bottle and helps himself to one. I hold out my hand for his and unscrew the cap for him.
“Thanks,” he says. There’s a pause while we drink, and then I make an attempt at conversation.
“How long have you worked for Rex?”
“Five years. He got me out of a bind.”
At my questioning look, he continues. “I told you I was in prison. Well, before that, a guy was messing with my sister. I was caught up with a crew, and I can’t say what we were doing was legal. When I went to tell this guy off, they went with me. Things got rough and. . .” He shrugs. “I went down for murder.” He lifts a hand and rubs his neck tattoos. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.
I can guess what happened next. “And then Rex got involved.”
