On the other end of the line, Xander Lewis said with a smile in his voice, “Turn around.”
I whipped around fast, and there he was—tall and lean, in a snow-white shirt with a black suit jacket draped over it, no tie.
He hung up and gave me a faint smile, those glassy eyes of his catching bits of light. He didn’t stand as straight as Henry Smith usually did, but I found his laid-back vibe kind of endearing.
If I didn’t already know about the mess with William King, just seeing him now, I’d never guess he was going through anything serious.
Sliding my phone back into my bag, I walked over. “Why are you here?”
“Came to find you,” he said with a grin, raising a plastic bag with two cups of coffee. “Minister Allen called me and said you asked him for William King’s hotel info. I
