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Should I try to scan it on the printer and email it to myself? Should I take pictures with my new phone?
I pull said phone from my pocket and frown when I realize it doesn’t have a camera.
Duh, it’s a burner.
I guess the only way I’m doing this is to scan it.Fuck. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get this all done—scanning, sending, then deleting—without being found out.
I’m sweating profusely now. Not sexy at all. But this isn’t a sexy thing I’m doing. It’s sketchy and disloyal and traitorous.
I shake my head, clearing the thoughts. I can’t think of them. I have to see beyond what I’m doing to why I’m doing it. I asked for something and got it, and now, I must keep up my end of the bargain, or who knows what sort of revenge Viktor will take?
I take a deep breath and start to shuffle through the papers.
Fuck, I should’ve taken a mental picture to remember how to put them back on the desk. Will Connor remember how he left his desk?
I’m not cut out for this shit.
I shrug, then continue to straighten them up, putting them in a pile. Then, I wiggle the mouse on the computer that sits slightly to the left on the desk top. The printer is right beside it. I press the power button and freeze as it boots up, listening to the ink cartridges slide back and forth, getting into position.
Are printers always this loud?
I expect the doorknob to rattle at any moment, letting me know someone is coming in.
Once the computer is on, I don’t even attempt to log in to Connor’s account. I click on the Guest one, and it opens right up. This will work even better than trying to delete scanned files from his actual account.
As soon as the screen is open and bare, I lay the first paper down and hit Scan, then cross my fingers that it will be this easy. Printers are fickle bitches.
It starts to do something, and then the paper is on the screen. I smile then stop myself. It’s not the time for joy.
I begin to work methodically—laying another paper down, scanning, taking it off, and repeating. I don’t even stop to read most of what it projects on the screen. I’m not sure I want to even know what I’m sending.
I finish the pile I have and then open another folder before pausing. I glance around the office, remembering the safe that we were going to open. How did I forget about it?
I don’t see it anywhere, and curiosity takes over my nerves, prompting me to stand and walk to where we discovered it. I run my hand across the table. Memories of being bent over it, the way Connor felt, driving into me, clutter my head. Then, I push the table and the rug, revealing the boards over the hidden compartment in the floor. I stare at it, wondering if I’m crazy.
Surely, if Connor had gotten it open, he would have told me, right? He wouldn’t have put it back without opening it.
I hook my finger into the hollow part of the boards and pull up, then stare down. The safe is back inside and looks just like it did the last time I saw it.
It doesn’t make any sense.
I bend down, lifting the safe out, grunting. It’s heavier than Connor made it look when he pulled it from the floor. My fingers instantly find grooves in the back as they wrap around to hold it. I turn it over, laying it beside me, and stare at the gaping hole in the back.
He got it open. He didn’t tell me.
Why the fuck not?
What the hell was in it?
He wouldn’t keep a secret like that from me, would he?
Like you wouldn’t keep a secret from him, Wryn?
I trace the jagged edges where it was drilled into. He must have gotten Geo to help him. That hurts, especially since they’ve been on the outs. I thought we were stronger than that. But I don’t know why.
I stare back at the computer that has the latest scanned document displayed on the screen. I don’t know why any of this is happening. It seems like my life has turned on its axis the last few months, completely different from it was before.
I set the safe back in the floor and cover it with the board, then replace the rug and table, making sure it looks the same as it did before. Then, I stand and walk back to the computer, my head spinning.
