We find a private room with a handful of old chairs and a fireplace. How many corrupt deals were forged between these four walls? How much money changed hands?
Christopher stands in the corner by the window, his back turned toward us. What does he see? Is he like some conquering warrior, looking at what he plans to take?
In contrast Sutton takes a seat near the fire, one leg slung over the other. His pose is casual, but I’m not fooled. His blue eyes are watchful. He’s a powerful adversary, but I’m not sure who he’s opposing. Christopher? Or me? Maybe the both of us.
We might be enemies, all three of us.
“You stopped p*****t to the hospital,” I say without preamble. He knows what he did. “I honestly thought you couldn’t sink any lower, but you proved me wrong.”
“It’s not that simple,”
