No one paid him any attention at all. He was one more businessman who’d just come from the plane with his carry-on luggage, walking briskly to a meeting in the building.
The security cameras at the bank of elevators were all tilted at the same angle, calibrated to cover an area about seven feet from the doors. Which just proved to Outlaw all over again how incredibly stupid civilians were. Especially rich civilians. No drug lord or criminal worth their weight in cocaine would have set up security cameras like that. The angles would have been staggered to ensure maximum coverage, to make sure not a fly got past security. But those were hard men, who paid for lapses in security with their lives.
These rich civilians lived in a soft world, where just theideaof security cameras and guards was cool, and enough. In a glance, Outlaw had seen the guard in the big U-shaped desk made of maplewood and brass. Good haircut, good-looking guy, trim, with an elegant uniform.
Security as fashion accessory.
This was going to be a cakewalk.
Nobody paid him the slightest bit of attention as he rode to the seventh floor. He walked the floor, head down, just another executive deep in thought about an upcoming IPO. It was a matter of vibes. When he wanted to, among men who understood the signals, Outlaw was good at emitting “don’t fuck with me or I’ll cut your balls off” vibes. But here it would be like broadcasting radio waves to a TV station. No, in this kind of environment, the equivalent wasI’m too busy and important to worry about worms like you, so don’t bust my balls. With that attitude, he was invisible.
It was going on 7 P.M. The building was emptying of all the clerical workers, the secretaries and gophers. Offices would have a skeleton crew, and only those busy on a big deal or wanting to show off for the boss would still be working. And most of them would quit by nine.
Outlaw met no one as he walked the length of the building to the fire stairs at the other end of the hall. Few of the offices had cameras outside their doors, and most of them were turned off.
Outlaw shook his head as he walked. Jesus Christ. Turning a security cameraoff? What the hell waswrongwith these people?
In the huge, empty stairwell, he took the stairs two at a time to the ninth floor, pulling out his laser light, holding it in the cup of his hand.
Office 921 was halfway down. And, he saw at a glance—no security camera outside the door. So Ms. Pearce hadn’t coughed up the extra amount for extra security. Wonderful.
There was a security company right across the hall, though. Its camera was definitely on, and it covered half the hallway. Outlaw walked close to the wall on the other side, and just to be sure, flashed the laser light into the camera as he walked by. Anyone viewing the tapes afterward would just see a blanked-out section, like a glitch in the tape.
Okay, he’d reconnoitered; time to go to his hide.
It was twenty-eight floors to the roof, and Outlaw took them at a run. He’d be sitting immobile for a couple of hours, so the small bite of exercise felt good.
At the top, on the landing, he changed into his tactical Nomex suit, readied his equipment and hunkered down next to the door leading out onto the roof.
He checked his watch. Seven twenty. Less than two hours to wait. He wanted to go in at nine. Nine was a perfect time. Almost everyone gone, not so late he’d catch the attention of the night security guards.
Waiting was never a problem. He was a sniper and patience was a big part of it. He was good at waiting. He could slow his breathing, bring his heart rate down, put himself into a state of vigilant rest, yet remain ready to kill at a moment’s notice.
Outlaw rested his head against the wall and shut down.
The whole afternoon was a washout.Nicole got exactly zero work done. This was terrible. She had the bank deadline, ten texts to distribute to her network of collaborators and new texts to look at and quote prices for. She couldn’t afford to take a day off, staring into space, thinking of Sam Reston.
However hard she tried to concentrate, though, his strong features swam into her monitor, crowding out the description of a new French manufacturing technology of airplane components, which was the text after the Luxembourg bank board meeting.
Every cell in her body squeezed tight as his image blossomed in her mind—dark face intent inches above her, focused on her so tightly she felt the lines of attraction between them could become visible.
Her body tingled with remembered sexual desire, but with a little time and distance, something else impinged on her consciousness. Something important about last night. There’d been something elusive, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She’d been…happy.
It had been so long since she’d felt that way, it had taken her a whole day to recognize it. Her entire being had been bathed in joy and, well, sexual delight. The sex had had a lot to do with it, but something about Sam himself, beyond his formidable power as a lover, was involved.
She was drowning in problems, up to her neck in them, sinking fast. Her father was dying, day by day. Piece by piece. When working, Nicole tried to wipe that thought from her mind but it was there, constantly, this huge dark hole that sucked everything down into the black pool at the bottom. It was her first thought on waking up and her last thought at night.
Helping him die was eating her alive. And eating up all her financial resources. She didn’t know which would finish first—her father or her money.
She didn’t care at all for herself, but she was terrified at the thought of her father spending the last months of his life without the comforts she killed herself to provide for him.
She’d already been to the bank to see about taking out a mortgage on the house and they’d laughed at her. Whatever resources she could use to ease her father’s life had to come from Wordsmith, the company she was struggling to keep afloat.
The terror that her father would be less than comfortable at the end of his life was like a sharp nail hammering into her head, hour by hour, minute by minute. Each time she saw a medical bill a vise tightened around her heart, squeezing hard.
Except for last night.
