“Where are you?” Belkin’s voice was gruff in her ear.
“I’m on my way to talk to my editor. I told you. I’d come to you when I was done my meeting.” Presley was as gruff back to Belkin.
“I will meet you there. I have an update for you.”
“It can’t wait until I meet you at the holding cells in the casino?”
“No.”
“Good grief,” she muttered when the phone went dead. She looked to her driver who was watching her in the rearview mirror and shrugged. “Do you think I’ll ever get used to dealing with cranky mob bosses?”
“You are one of them now, Miss.” Her driver grinned at her.
“Fair.” She nodded her agreement and then turned her attention back to looking out the window. She missed being able to walk everywhere and to have anonymity and freedom to come and go as she pleased. What was only a
