“Luke hasn’t showered me with anything. He’s a waiter.”
“He’s masquerading as a waiter.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But the fact remains that he hasn’t showered me with anything. Only his love.”
“He turned evidence. Apparently. I’m guessing, of course, because there’s no record of where he went. He just disappeared into thin air from his hospital bed after his shoulder healed.”
“Do you think he went into the witness protection program?”
“I have sources at the FBI, and there’s no record of him.”
“Why would they share those records with you? I mean, isn’t that why there’s a witness protection program? So people like you can’t go after those guys?”
“I’m not a criminal, sweetheart. I was just looking for information from valued sources. Sources who knew I was no threat. Believe me, if Lucifer was in the witness protection program, I’d know it.”
“Then we must be talking about two different people.”
“Two different people with the exact same tattoo?”
I’m grasping at straws, and I know it. “I haven’t seen the tattoo you’re describing, and you haven’t seen the one I’m describing. They could be completely different.”
Buck doesn’t answer. He just stares at me, refusing to escape my gaze. His brown eyes are burning into me, and I don’t like the feeling. I don’t like the feeling at all.
With his gaze, he’s telling me I’m full of shit. That it’s clear Luke and Lucifer are the same person. That I’m an idiot for not believing him.
There’s only one straw left, and I grip it between my fingers. “If Luke and Lucifer are one and the same, how did he disappear without the help of the government?”
“He probably got help from his father. Lucifer Ashton Junior is blueblood rich. Old family money.”
There goes my last straw.
I sigh. Except it doesn’t come out like a sigh. It comes out like a high-pitched squeak as I gulp back a sob.
“It’s okay,” Buck says. “If you need to cry, cry. I’m used to women’s tears. I’ve listened to my sister cry on more than one occasion. Usually having to do with your boyfriend.”
I shake my head. No. No. No. Can’t be. It’s not. He’s wrong. He’s wrong he’s wrong he’s wrong.
Except that he’s right.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Buck says.
“No.”
“You’re not?” He raises his eyebrows.
“If you’re right—if Luke and Lucifer are the same person—I think it’s pretty clear why I’m here.”
“They think that by taking you they can ferret him out. But Lucifer is concerned with only one person, and that’s himself.”
“You don’t think he’ll come for me?”
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t bet a penny on it.”
I don’t know what to say. I feel sick all over, and when a knock sounds on the door, I don’t even jump.
My nerves have gone on hiatus. I just don’t care anymore. Why? What’s the point?
Buck goes to the door and opens it.
He comes back with a tray of food. “I guess it’s lunchtime. Or dinnertime. Who the hell knows?”
“Why didn’t you run out?”
“Because I’m not a moron.”
“You can do something, can’t you? You could’ve punched his face. You’re a big guy.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss.
“Sorry. Katelyn, I just told you I’m not a moron. You think the drug kingpin keeping us here doesn’t have this place fully surrounded? We wouldn’t get five feet before we were shoved back in here, and then we’d be punished for attempting to escape.”
“But shouldn’t we at least try?”
“Absolutely. And we will. As soon as I figure out a viable way to get us out of here. But we have to think it through. And right now, I don’t know the lay of the land.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“Exactly how can you help? I’m sorry, but you were held on an island for ten years, and you can bet this place has equal security. You didn’t get anywhere.”
“I could…” The thought that comes into my head is disgusting, but I have to say it. “I could…seduce him.”
“Sure. I have no doubt you’d be successful. But first of all, I won’t allow you to put yourself in that position, and second of all, while you’re seducing one, ten more will come after me.”
He’s right.
“Then what?” I ask.
“We eat our food to keep up our strength. And we wait.”
“For what?”
“For an opportunity to present itself.”
“What if they hurt us?”
“They may very well try to hurt me. But you?” He shakes his head. “You, they won’t touch. Not until they have to.”
Buck’s words slice into me like an icy blade.
Not until they have to.
I’m not sure what he means.
But I know none of it is good.
45
LUKE
I spend the next several minutes continuing to investigate the room I’m locked in. Funny how many chances King has given me to escape. Except he knows I won’t. It would be a futile attempt.
The window. He gave me a windowed room. A nail file and the razor blade. The pen.