He easily guides the car down the round levels of the structure, passing a few reporters who try to get pictures of us through the dark windows.
Once we reach the bottom, where most of them are still congregating, waiting for us, he floors it, the RPMs soaring and the engine growling beneath us. Barreling towards the exit, he makes the reporters standing there just afraid enough to dive out of the way instead of attempting to get any more footage.
Yanking the wheel to the left to get us out of there, the tires squeal, peeling out across the asphalt.
Within seconds, we're far above the speed limit, tearing past Mingle, the lights darting across my line of sight before disappearing.
"Are you going to tell me why I'm in the car?" The question finally forms and escapes the fear drying out my throat.
He heaves out a breath, "I don't think Cormac would like it if I left you to the wolves."
"I would have been fine," I mumble. "Or you could have asked me to get in the car."
With a chuckle, he looks over at me, disbelief and humor lifting his brows, "There's not a chance in hell you would have gotten in thiscar willingly. And then I would have been responsible for whatever happened to you after."
"Responsible?" The ridiculousness of it makes me laugh, "I've dealt with people a lot more worrisome than those reporters were."
Waving my arguments away with a lazy hand, he replies, "Yeah, yeah, I know, Miss Lawyer-Pants. You've faced a man on death row threatening to kill everyone in the room. And you've talked a guy off the literal edge after he lost everything in a money-laundering scheme that he was defrauded into."
I swallow, chills rising up the back of my neck. Not only does he know who I am, but he also knows details about the cases I interned on that are definitelynotpublic record. Things that were never supposed to see the light of day outside of a courthouse.
"And then you had to rebuild your entire life after getting fired for trying to seduce your boss," he adds, slowing the car to a reasonable speed now that we're far from the club and any lingering cameras.
The humiliation of my past barrels into me, and I close my eyes against the nausea rising.
"That's private," I mutter.
"Not that private," he replies, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "It wasn't hard to find the wrongful termination suit. Or how quickly it got thrown out. You should have read your internship contract better. They require in-house mediation.”
I fight back the need to throw up, swallowing it down.
He's not wrong.
I didn't read the contract properly.
I was desperate to get in with a firm doing work I cared about and disregarded everything else.
"I learned my lesson," is all I can say.
He laughs, "Oh, believe me, I know. Cormac was beside himself when you turned down the position with Balor."
My chest caves in.
Beside himself?Over hiring a lawyer with no experience and horrible references?
"Well, it seems like I made the right decision there, didn't I?"
A vicious, snarky chuckle escapes the man beside me, "Then what the fuck are you doing now?"
As if I haven't been asking myself the same question for weeks.
Every step I take to create a line between me and this seedy life, I take two or three steps back.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I insist.
Skyler turns down a road and immediately slams on the brakes, throwing me forward before he puts the car in park, leaving me alone in a dark alley with a man that I know has been part of Cormac's crimes, though I have no idea how involved he was. All I know is he's dangerous in his own way, and he knows far too much about me and my past.
He leans against the seat, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his knuckles against the dashboard, "I may not have Cormac's pension for knowing when you're lying, but I'm not an idiot."
