Page 93 of Nyx

Kessler looks up at the SUV, and I can tell he's trying to be brave and stand his ground, but he freezes, fear locked on his face when Kincaid speaks again.

"How long did it take to track down Clara Bennet?" Kincaid asks.

"I-I umm, don't know who that is," he lies, his entire demeanor changing as the five of us walk closer.

"Do you really think we're here asking questions we don't know the answers to?" Kincaid asks.

"That we don't know you're working with Graham Whitmore to locate his ex-wife?" Shadow adds.

"Who he stabbed twice while she was pregnant and left her for dead to get drunk at the bar?" I snap, fists clenched at my sides, because it's the only thing keeping me from pulling out my gun and stopping this conversation in its tracks.

"How do you think this ends if you don't give us the information we want?" Kincaid asks.

The man shakes his head, terror in every feature of his face.

"He's not going to hurt her," he vows. "He just wants closure."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Shadow says.

"How many other men have you helped hurt women?" Hound asks.

"None!" the man lies. "He threatened me. He said he'd kill me if I didn't help him. I acted under duress. I swear!"

"The lies are really making my trigger finger itch," I say, moving my hand into the holster hidden behind my shirt.

"No," he yells, holding his hands out in front of him as if they would stop a bullet.

"How much information does Whitmore have on Clara Bennet?" Kincaid growls.

"All of it," he says. "He knows everything."

"Where she has been all these years?" Shadow demands.

"Yes," Kessler says.

"He knows where she's at now?" I snap.

He dips his head, my blood running cold.

I lower my hand further, my palm brushing the grip of my gun.

Sirens fade into my head, making me pull my hand away from my gun. Killing this man would be different if police officers witnessed it, and I just can't risk it.

"You called the fucking cops on me?" he snaps, some of his fear transitioning into disbelief.

"Max coming through as always," Shadow says.

"That sound," Kincaid begins, pointing a finger in the air. "That means the police have many, many instances of you helping men like Graham Whitmore."

"They can't charge me with anything," the man snaps. "I didn't hurt anyone."

"Aiding and abetting, conspiracy," Shadow says, counting each item off on his fingers. "Involvement in stalking and harassment. Violations of protective orders. Not to mention the civil liabilities. Negligence, invasion of privacy, unethical conduct."

"I won't sit for a day," he says.

"Think that you can afford a top-notch attorney when they seize your bank accounts because it's all part of your criminal case?" Hound asks.

The man snaps his eyes in Hound's direction as the cops pull up and exit their vehicles, cuffs dangling from the fingertips of one smiling cop.