He nodded. Then, quieter, “And if they knock it back again?”
“Then we escalate.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You always talk like this?”
“Like what?”
“Hard balls.”
I smiled. “Only when I mean it.”
“Always did think you had a pretty mouth with a fierce tongue.”
Heat rose to my face. I dropped my gaze, just in time for a sharp rap on the door.
Time.
I stood, gathering my things. “Needless to say, don’t give them anything else.”
“Easier said than done when they put me in front of people who want me dead.”
“Granted. But…” I glanced up to check the coast was clear. “Think of the lake.”
Razor cocked his head, eyebrows drawing in.
“You have to trust that I won’t let you drown.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. Then he glanced down. “And if you can get me bail? Where would I go? Gonna assume they won’t want me back roaming Hackney.”
I stilled.
Every answer I ran through my head collapsed under its own weight. Everything he owned was tied to Cormac. Every address was traceable. Every place he’d ever laid his head was compromised. Either a leash or a liability. The prosecution would seize on it, dress it up as risk, call it organised crime proximity and make it sound inevitable.
It was a problem. A serious one.
“We’ll figure something out.” I smiled.
It wasn’t a solution. Not yet. But it was the truth I could give him without lying.
He nodded, accepting it for what it was.
Then the door went, and I had to leave him there with uncertainty where hope had taken root. I didn’t know how I was going to solve it. But I knew one thing.
I wasn’t leaving him.
Ever.
Chapter eleven
Razor
Seg ran on a schedule designed to erase you.
Lights snapped on too early to call it morning, too harsh to pretend it was anything else. Breakfast came through the hatch without a word. Lukewarm porridge in a plastic bowl. One slice of bread tasting of cardboard and burnt plastic. I ate it anyway. Not eating gave them another reason to watch me closer, write me up and take something else away.
Then nothing.
Hours of it.