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I wasn't sure if he was actually expecting an answer or not. The fact that he wasn't pulling the trigger was setting off warning bells in my head. I still had his business card clutched in my hand, but I wasn't willing to risk my or Simon’s safety on a hunch.
"The security guards make rounds every hour. Are you aware of that, Mr. Archer?" Again, he didn't wait for an answer. "Guards don't do you much good if there's a whole hour between the time they check on you. And let's say you had guards who actually did their job, we'd still have another fifty-six minutes of uninterrupted time before they walked through that door again." He motioned over his shoulder toward the door that led out of the suite.
"You've got a check-in desk downstairs which actually does check ID, but it is woefully understaffed. That or I missed the memo where a MetroCard is considered an adequate ID."
The man produced a MetroCard with a flick of his wrist. The gun never wavered. "I've been in this sitting room for more than half a dozen hours now and not one person has asked if I should be here. You yourself walked by me three times and never once looked in my direction." He paused only long enough to icily add, "Are you getting me, Mr. Archer?" Even if he'd given me a chance to respond, I wouldn't have. Rage began to boil my blood as the truth of the situation hit me.
The gunman closed the distance between us until his gun was just mere inches from my chest. He motioned with his chin at Simon but kept his eyes on me. "That was admirable, but useless. He would have been dead half a second after you."
The man finally lowered his gun. His eyes remained on me as he said to Simon, "Go call your security team, kid. Let's see how long it takes them to get their fat asses up here." He checked his watch before dropping his arm so the gun was no longer pointed at me. "You're playing in the big leagues now, Archer. Fucking act like it."
Chapter 3
Nikolai
"Hey, asshole, you spilled my drink!"
I eyed the drunk across from me as he held an imaginary glass in my direction like he was waiting for me to refill it. I was saved from having to respond because an officer showed up at that moment to collect the very ripe-smelling gentleman.
"Come on, Saul. You're out of here," the female officer said. She opened the cell door and motioned for Saul. To me she said, "You've got a visitor" and then she motioned to someone who wasn’t in my line of sight. As I waited, I glanced around the holding cell I was in. It only had a handful of guys in it. One was talking to himself, a couple of them were asleep, and the rest were milling around waiting for whatever their fates would bring.
I was pretty sure what my fate was going to be.
I was fucked.
Completely fucked.
When Mike appeared outside the bars a moment later, the shame made it almost impossible to look at him.
"This is how you help?" he asked angrily.
I shook my head because what was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to explain something I didn't even understand myself?
I’d gone to TDS Corporation with good intentions that morning. I'd been fully prepared to reason with Jude Archer over his unwillingness to accept the personal protection his boss clearly wanted him to have. I’d spent the previous night doing my homework on the man, not that there was much to be found about him. I'd settled on using logic and reason for the Harvard-educated real estate developer, but when I'd arrived at TDS and realized how lacking the security was from the moment I’d stepped into the building, something in my brain had clicked. I'd still managed to hang on to reason and logic throughout most of the morning as I'd sat in Archer’s comfortable waiting area, but then it had happened.
God, I still didn't even know how to explain it.
It being my first glimpse of Jude Archer in the flesh.
There’d been a picture in the file folder I'd gotten from Mike and it had been enough to cause me to catch my breath when I'd first taken in his beautiful features. I couldn't really say that I had a certain type of guy that I typically went for, but there was one type that I avoided at all costs, and Jude Archer fit that type to a T.
Even from the profile shot that was featured on the TDS website, I'd known that. At first glance, my thought had been that the man belonged on the covers of magazines. But then I'd focused in on his eyes. His cold, emotionless eyes. Icy blue and empty. Once I'd taken those in, other tiny details had begun to emerge the more I’d studied the picture. The angle of his chin that said he knew he was above those around him. The smirk of his lush lips that spoke volumes. The rich cut of his suit that screamed money.
