He gave a soft chuckle. “For being right? Or for callin’ me out? Because you shouldn’t be sorry for either.” He slid off the bed. “What do you need to do to prep for meetin’ the girl tonight? Do you want to wear a disguise?”
Did I? I hadn’t planned on it, but it wasn’t a terrible idea, even if it made me feel weird.
“I suppose I should,” I said. “I don’t want to be recognized.” A new thought hit me. “And Knox might have told his people to be on the lookout for me too.”
James had been walking around the end of the bed, but he stopped and turned to face me.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Miguel said Knox has a hit out on me,” he said slowly, “but he didn’t mention you.”
I shook my head. “Maybe he didn’t think it was important.”
His brow lifted. “When I have a woman fitting your exact description sittin’ in a chair in his office?”
He had a point. “Okay, so maybe Miguel didn’t know. But then again, maybe he did. His comment about me wearing black was also odd.”
He shook his head, slow and deliberate. “No way. If Razor is talkin’ and he knows all the facts, he’d include you.”
“But Razor heard it from the driver—Nixon. Maybe he didn’t know.”
He gave me a pointed look. “Harper. If Knox had hits out on two people who were last seen together and expected to still be together, people would know.”
I took a second to consider that. “So… what does that mean? That Knox doesn’t have a hit out on me?”
“I don’t think he does.”
My brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m the one who shot his mother. I was the one who took out all his men. Not you.” I released a dry laugh. “If anything, he should be on the hunt for me, not you.”
His jaw tensed. “Exactly.”
“What do you think it means?” I asked again, a chill running down my spine.
He studied me for a beat. “Nothin’ good.”
With that alarming prediction, he headed to the bathroom and shut the door.
I got off the bed and walked over to the windows overlooking the river.
Did this mean Knox wanted me alive? But, if so, wouldn’t he have told his people to be on the lookout for me? Or did he assume they’d find me when they found James?
Unless there was a bounty on my head and Nixon knew it … and had chosen to keep that part to himself. If that was true, then the bounty on me was a hell of a lot bigger than the bounty on James.
My blood turned to ice.
I’d killed Gerald Knox’s men. I’d hurt his mother.
Gerald Knox wanted James dead, maybe because of past grudges, maybe because James had been a thorn in his side in the past. James said he’d been part of a group who’d tried to take over his territory. That had to have caused bad blood.
But me…
I was guessing Gerald Knox wanted revenge.
He wanted me alive—and once he had me, I’d probably wish I wasn’t.
I went numb for several seconds, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that a crime boss wanted to hurt me in ways I couldn’t even imagine. Because I knew what men like him were capable of.
Other than James, I had nothing tying me to Arkansas. My mother was dead, and my father … he might as well be. After everything I’d learned last week, I never planned on having any kind of relationship with him. Sure, I had my grandparents and my aunt now, and I wanted to reconnect with them, but I’d gone this long without a real family. I could walk away from them and my aunt.
