"Nothing happens to it."
I set it in his palm. His fingers close around it, and our hands overlap, and I feel the warmth of his skin and the calluses on his fingers. I pull back like I've touched something hot.
Which I have.
He pockets the drive. "I'll have updates in the morning."
"I want to be there when your guy opens it."
A pause. "We'll see."
"That's not a yes."
"It's not a no." He leans against the doorframe. Arms crossed. "Get some sleep."
"I need my phone."
"You'll have access to a secure line."
"My phone. My number. My contacts."
"Compromised." Flat. Immediate. "Anyone who has your number could be used to triangulate your location. You make calls on my line or not at all."
"And my keys?"
"Your apartment is being watched. You can't go back."
"My car."
"Impounded for your safety."
Each answer comes out rehearsed. Like he knew what I'd ask and pre-built a wall for every exit.
Fury crawls up my throat.
"So you've taken my phone, my home, my car." I keep my voice even. A skill. Years of practice. "What exactly do I have?"
Luca reaches into his jacket and sets two things on the dresser beside the flowers.
A burner phone. Next to it, a small rectangular black device that fits in a palm.
"Burner's loaded with six contacts. Me. Caruso. Niko. Your colleague Dani. Bellevue switchboard. Panic line." Flat. Informational. "Anything else gets blocked. Incoming or outgoing."
I stare at the phone.
"And that." He nods at the black device. "Panic button. Triggers a silent alert to my team. Response time under ninety seconds anywhere in the building."
I look at it.
Then I look at him.
"You put flowers in here."
His jaw tightens. "The staff does that."
"And the panic button. You thought about what I'd need if I woke up scared in an unfamiliar place."
"I thought about threat scenarios."
