Disreputable Allies (Fates of the Bound 1)
“Good plan. Nice execution,” she whispered while the cousins turned up O’Bryan’s mic.
The captain knocked on the limo window. His reflection disappeared as the glass rolled down, farther and farther, until all that was left was a dark hole.
Lila leaned closer to the monitor, the interior of the car too dark to penetrate.
“Oracle’s light,” Shaw mumbled beside her.
She cocked her head as someone peeked out of the window, sunglasses obscuring half his face. It had to be a male, for the jaw was too square and broad to belong to the shrunken chairwoman.
There was a familiar dimple in his chin.
Patrick Wilson removed his sunglasses. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Chapter 23
Lila squinted at the monitor, mouth gaping at Patrick’s face. “I don’t understand. The chairwoman…”
Shaw rubbed his mustache. “I thought you said—”
“Is the chairwoman inside? Is the kid?”
Captain O’Bryan leaned down in front of the window, giving the two chiefs a better view of the interior. Someone sat next to Patrick, hidden in shadow, but it was impossible to see the person’s face. “My name is Captain O’Bryan, sir, and I’m a member of the Bullstow militia. We need to search your car, then we’ll get you on your way. We’re sorry for any inconvenience.”
“Search the limo? Why would you do that?” Patrick chuckled and turned his head, noting for the first time that every hangar exit was blocked. He shifted in his seat. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“It’s just a routine search.”
“Is this a joke? Is someone playing a prank?”
“No, sir. There have been reports of drug smuggling through the airports lately. We take those reports seriously. Everyone’s being searched today. Please step out of the car.”
Patrick tilted his head to the side. Licking his lips, he slipped out of his good humor. It shattered like a thin shell under the pressure of a thousand leagues. “Do you know who I am?”
“No, but I know who you can be. You can either be a cooperative gentleman or a pain in my ass. Which will you choose today?”
Patrick glared at the blackcoat and started tapping away on his palm. “You have absolutely no reason to stop me, officer. I’m calling my mother’s lawyers. Pray to the oracles that you are not still here when they show up.”
Lila tilted her head to the other side, her mouth hanging open wider than it had before. She’d never heard Patrick speak with such distaste in his voice. It was as if a puppy had suddenly turned rabid and ripped into his owner’s leg.
Oskar Kruger was the leg. He sat forward, clutching a satchel to his chest, peering up at Captain O’Bryan and his lapel camera. His eyes were wild and scared, and he stared back and forth between both men.
“So I see you’ve decided to be a pain in my ass,” the captain said. “Please step out of the vehicle, sir. This will be last time I ask nicely.”
Lila finally closed her mouth. “It can’t be Patrick.”
“Looks like you’re only half right about this one. I’m sorry, chief.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve known him all his life. He didn’t send Peter Kruger to kill me. He’s my best friend’s brother, for oracle’s sake! I grew up with him.”
She remembered the day Patrick came home from the hospital, hands wiggling, mouth stretching open in a yawn. She remembered every birthday after that, his tedious violin recitals, his demands for ice cream dinners, the first time she caught him in the music room with a girl and a pillow over his lap, the half-hour before leaving for his first event of his first season when she and Alex stood around taking pictures and straightening his cravat.
She remembered all the smiles, all the winks, all the silly jokes.
Every time he’d teased Simon about his crushes on older women. Every time he’d teased Alex about her conquests. Every time he’d teased Lila about the criminals she would tranq.
He was charming and pretty and dumb.
He was not a master criminal. He was not a murderer.