A snicker from behind me brought my attention to Sinclair. He and Kyan stood behind me, and nerves turned my stomach.No, nerves!I gritted my teeth and returned my attention to Elias.
“Why are you here?” he asked, abrupt. I held onto my nonexistent patience.
“You know why.” The words almost stuck in my throat.
“Can’t say I do,” he drawled.
“Are you here to audition for a job?” Sinclair asked from behind me. The humor in his tone rubbed me the wrong way. I hadn’t expected the accent despite knowing his files stated he’d been born in New Zealand . . . but his sounded watered down—Americanized. “Hello?” Sinclair snapped his fingers. “Answer the question.”
I studied the smirking curl of his lips.
Did they truly not know, or were they playing with me?
“I need help.”
“And you thinkwe’llhelp you?” Elias chuckled. “After you tried to ruin us?”
WhatamI doing here?
Doubt tried to take over, but I stamped it down. I had nowhere else to turn to.
“I’m not stupid,” I bit out. “You have shady shit going on—” I cut myself off and took a breath. Pissing them off right now wouldn’t help my case. “But, I shouldn’t have published the article without going through the proper channels.” That didn’t negate the fact it was true; still, I didn’t say that. “I—I’m sorry.” The apology hurt coming from my throat.
A sharp whistle from behind me whipped my head around. “You’re being accused of Lyndsy Summer’s murder.” Sinclair’s voice was heavy with humor. “Holy fuck. Who did you piss off?” He swiped at the screen of his phone. “Video evidence of Briar Rivera being the last one to meet with Mrs. Summer Bourne.” He clicked his tongue and looked up at me. “You’re fucked, mate.”
“I didn’t kill her,” I blurted.
“Seems like you’ll have a hard time proving that.” Sinclair looked amused to be delivering the news.
“Thanks,” I said, tone dry, and turned back to Elias. He was the one making the calls.
“I need to get out of the country. I know you have connections to get me out safely.” Our gazes held, his with a dare. “I’ll do anything.” The phrase exploded from the desperate pit in my stomach. I wanted to gouge my eyes out, but I kept still.
“Anything?” He cocked his head, interest and an odd glint of anger peeking through.
“Yes.” I held his gaze, knowing what I was insinuating.
“Even whore yourself out?” Sinclair interjected, stating the fucking obvious.
Elias sent him a withering glare, and Sinclair muttered something behind me.
“We can get pussy whenever we want. Why would we need yours?” Elias turned his intense focus on me, his green irises telling me nothing.
He . . . had a point.
I was left mute, my embarrassment swelling. I wouldn’t cry—I refused to.
Desperation drove me to my knees.
“Please,” I whispered, swallowing the encroaching emotion. One of them sucked in a breath behind me.
I bit my trembling lip, shoving down my pride.I’ll escape with their help.If I kept chanting it in my head, it would be true.
Anger sparked in his gaze, and he bit out, “Sin.”
Footsteps thudded near, and my hair was grabbed in a harsh grip. It forced my head up, and my eyes clashed with Sinclair’s mocking gaze, which contrasted the sneer on his lips.
Why were they so angry?
