James leaned forward. “Let me make this real clear. You’ll answer my questions, or I’ll pull your security detail and let Knox know you’ve been chattin’ with me.”
“But I haven’t told you anything,” she whispered.
“You think that matters?”
Her throat bobbed. “I told him I was stringing you along,” she blurted, her voice shaking.
“We’ll make it convincing,” I said. “I have the emails you sent Miles Harlan. Enough to make Knox believe whatever we want him to believe.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Skeeter, no. Please.”
“Then let’s try again.” His voice stayed calm but sounded scarier than if he were yelling. “How long have you been workin’ for Gerald Knox?”
She drew a shaky breath. “About four years.”
James’s jaw tightened. “From around the time J.R. was killed?”
She nodded. “He’d heard the Feds hadn’t recovered all of J.R.’s money. I don’t know how he’d heard, and he refused to tell me. But he said he was impressed and needed an accountant like me.”
“And you said yes.” James leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving her. “Blackstone Capital. Knox owns it?”
She nodded again, the gesture smaller this time.
“What’s it for?” he asked.
Her gaze dropped to her desk. “His trafficking business.” The words came out flat, like she was reading from a spreadsheet. “It pays for the residential leases and utility bills.”
My stomach rolled. “Wow.” I didn’t hide my disgust. “You say that like you’re talking about landscaping fees.”
Natalie’s chin lifted defensively. “It’s not like I could stop them.”
“Does that help you sleep better at night?” I asked sarcastically.
Her face flushed with embarrassment, but she didn’t look at me.
James’s gaze flicked to mine, checking if I wanted to continue. I leaned back in my chair and let him take point.
“How many other corporations does Knox own?” James asked.
She looked up, wary. “Why do you think he has more?”
“Because men like him always do.” His tone sharpened. “And you learned under J.R. Simmons. You’d think it was strange if he didn’t have any. You’d suggest he get some.”
Her hand trembled on the edge of her desk. “If I tell you, he’ll kill me. You just compared him to J.R. We both know how men like him operate.”
James leaned forward, quiet and deadly. “The way I see it, if you don’t tell me, there’s a good chance you’ll end up the same way anyway.” He held her gaze. “But if you do tell me what I need to know, I can help you. You’re a survivor, Nat. So start survivin’. How many?”
She swallowed. Her gaze snapped to me, then back to him. “You swear you’ll help me?”
“If you start bein’ honest,” he said. “Yes.”
Her chair creaked as she shifted. “Six. Two are legitimate.” She rushed to add, “I mean legit on paper and practice.”
James didn’t blink. “Go on.”
“One’s a trucking outfit. River City Logistics. They have real loads. Real drivers. DOT numbers.”
“Maybe not so legit,” I said. “It’s perfect for moving things you don’t want traced. Like people.”
