He looks at me, and I wish he looked guilty. Guilty I could work with. But what's looking back at me is worse. It's certainty. Calm, cold, and completely unmovable.
“I’ll be back later,” he says, pulling out his phone as he goes. He disappears around the side of the house.
I stand on the porch steps, arms wrapped around myself. A minute later, a black Audi prowls down the driveway and turns onto the main road. He's driving himself. No chauffeur. Like he doesn't want witnesses to wherever he's going.
My heart is pounding, my pulse racing in my ears. Panic for him—and for myself. I told him. I warned him. And I let him walk away anyway.
What does a man like Thorne Blackstone do when everything is on the line? My mind skitters away from the possibilities. Bribery. Threats. Worse?
No. Not Thorne. But even as I think it, doubt creeps in. How well do I really know him? I know how he tastes, how he sounds when he comes, how his hands feel on my skin. But this cold, controlled version of him who drove away? Maybe that's who he really is.
What if I lose him? Not as a client, but as... whatever we are?
The thought shouldn't hurt this much. We agreed. Temporary. Physical. No strings.
And everyone eventually leaves.
Even knowing this, my chest is tight and my eyes are burning, and watching those taillights disappear feels like witnessing something precious slip through my fingers.
Behind me, the front door opens. Sebastian steps out onto the porch. “Where did he go?"
I turn to face him, wrapping my arms tighter against the cold in my heart.
“No idea. He just said he'll be back later.”
I just hope when he comes back, we can all still live with whatever he's done.
Chapter Twenty
Thorne
I call Detective Mike Brennan from my office at Blackstone. It’s a little after nine when he answers. We've known each other for fifteen years since I hired him as private security for a corporate event and discovered he was better at gathering information than watching doors. And he's good at keeping his mouth shut.
He retired from Louisville Metro PD five years ago, but he still has contacts. People who owe him favors.
"Blackstone," he answers. "What do you need?"
"Jeffrey Williams. An EPA inspector was arrested this morning. I need to know where he is."
“Give me a second.” There’s rustling in the background and he’s back. "The environmental fraud case?" A pause. I hear typing. "He made bail by early afternoon. Released on his own recognizance. Ankle monitor. They've got him at his home address, 2847 Oakmont Drive in Shelbyville.”
"He's already out? That was fast.”
“If they let him leave, it means he's cooperating. They want him comfortable, not locked up." More typing.
"Anything else?"
"EPA Criminal Investigation Division is running the case. They’re pursuing a public corruption angle because of the bribery charges." Brennan pauses. "Thorne, if this is about Blackstone Bourbon, you need to be careful. Williams is a federal cooperator now. They'll be watching who he talks to.”
"Noted. Thanks. And I never called tonight."
“Yup. It's just been me and aKeeping Up with the Kardashiansmarathon all evening."
I snort. "I'm not sure you should admit that if anyone asks, Brennan." His laughter cuts off when I end the call.
I pull up Raymond Voss's contact. That's a number I haven't called in three years. Not since he drew up that airtight contract for the bet I'd forced Sebastian into. The one where I lost more than I'd wagered.
Voss specializes in deals that exist in legal grey areas. Contracts that can't be easily broken. Arrangements that benefit from ambiguity. He's not mob-connected, not overtly criminal, just flexible. Pragmatic. Willing to draft documents that other attorneys won't touch.
