Chapter 12: The East Wing

By six o'clock the kitchen was full of men in vests, and every one of them was looking at me.

Hank had played the footage for the table.

Nobody spoke.

I stood next to Boone with my arm in its sling and watched the room decide what it thought.

"They used her," a tall biker said at last. "Used her to bait the president."

"They used her to put a cover on a hit," Hank said.

"Then we ride," said the man with the prosthetic hand.

"We ride," Boone said. "Apartment, Troost, the dealership. All three."

"I'm coming," I said.

Every head turned.

"No," Boone said.

"It's my apartment."

"You're staying here."

"Carl is my stepbrother."

"He's a man who set you up to be shot," Boone said. "You're staying."

"That's an order."

"It's a fact."

"You said no orders," I said. "You said if you gave me orders, I could leave. You said you'd hold the door."

He looked at me, and I saw how tired he was.

He had not slept either.

"I said that before I watched myself on that tape," Boone said.

"And now?"

"Now I want you behind a wall until I know who else is out there."

"A wall."

"A locked wall."

I stared at him.

I had known him eight days, and the one door in my life that was mine to open was his.

I had believed it was the one place in my life where I was not being handled.

"You're locking me in," I said.

"Only until we're back."

"That's what a cage is," I said. "You told me it had a gate."