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“That’s more like you.” Ryan cheerfully polished off another Danish pastry.
“Fired or not, we have things to deal with. Ryan, you’re first up. Status of Rachel’s apartment block?” Callum sipped his coffee.
“Well, the concierge is seriously pissed with us.” Ryan put his empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. “He called in extra security and informed the cops of the problem, so they’re fine. Totally covered. Oh, yeah, and he also politely declined our offer to train the staff.”
“He doesn’t have authority to do that,” Rachel said. “He’s only the concierge.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a concierge with a grudge against Benson Security.” Ryan looked around for more food.
Megan caught him eyeing her plate and moved it out of reach.
“Dimitri,” Callum said. “The office.”
Dimitri took a deep breath. “The office is a tip. Sorry, Julia.” Megan saw Julia’s shoulders firm in response, ready to jump into action and sort out the mess. “There’s broken furniture and equipment everywhere. The walls have holes. The windows are smashed and the reception area is toast after the bomb went off in there.”
“Bomb?” Julia squeaked.
“Only a little one.” Dimitri smiled at her. “Barely big enough to make a noise. Your office is a goner though.”
Megan gave her friend a sympathetic smile. She knew how attached Julia was to her whiteboards.
“I have everything backed up on my iPad,” Julia said softly. “I’ll get right onto arranging a clean-up and further construction once this meeting is over.”
“Check with the cops first, make sure it’s okay to get back into the building,” Dimitri said. “Work with Ryan to get a full security system in there. We want the place air tight.” He looked at Ryan. “You know the specs, right?”
“No prob.” Ryan had managed to find another bagel from somewhere. He waved it at Callum. “You want a panic room? I keep getting voicemails from the gramps asking me about it.”
“Aye,” was all Callum said.
“Do we know if the attack was Abramovich or Durand?” Joe waved a coffee pot to see if anyone else wanted a refill. Unsurprisingly, Ryan raised his mug.
“Durand, definitely,” Elle said, with an apologetic smile at Megan.
Megan stiffened in her seat then fought to look relaxed. The last thing she wanted was for people to know how much this was getting to her. It was her fault. She needed to be strong.
Dimitri relaxed back into the sofa beside her. His arm stretched along the back of it. He wasn’t looking at her, or touching her, but then she felt his thumb caress the nape of her neck. Strangely, she relaxed at his touch, reassured by it.
“Megan got another text from Durand last night,” Elle said.
Callum sat up straight. “Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”
“You were busy with the office aftermath,” Rachel said. “I didn’t think it was a priority, so I told Elle to continue her efforts to trace him.”
Callum’s expression would have turned a lesser person to dust. Rachel was unaffected. “I thought you didn’t work for me anymore?”
“I never did.” Rachel gave him her own version of the death glare.
“The text said,” Elle interrupted their stare off, “You can run, but you can’t hide.”
“No originality.” Megan was disgusted at the lack of imagination. If she’d sent the text she would have put way more effort into it.
Dimitri squeezed her neck.
“What?” she demanded when she looked at him.
“You can give him lessons on creative threatening messages when we get him.”
She blinked at him. How the hell did he know what she was thinking?
