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“Is naloxicine expensive?”
“It’s some CIA-level shit, that’s for sure. Used in the President’s limos and probably in the windows in the White House. You can’t get it easily, either,” he murmured, angling his head to see if a special inlaid filament was present. After a few seconds he spotted it. “Although in this case, I’d guess they installed it for the heads-up display.”
“Are you serious?” she asked in awe, turning around to scan the apartment. Then she pointed. “So that computer can project onto the glass?”
“More like into the glass, but yes,” he said, stepping back to take in the panoramic view of the estate below.
The cloudy, chilly November morning cast a somber atmosphere over the room. The luxury sanctuary was a perk he hadn’t expected, but a nagging sense of unease crept over him.
“This is a lot more than an apartment,” Ryder muttered, more to himself than to Nita, who’d walked over to fire up the computer.
Their agreement to work together in this newfound sanctuary, and keeping it a secret from Cavendish’s new owners, weighed on him. Secrets were only as good as the people who kept them, and what did he really know about Nita? Or the past occupants of this lair? Or whoever else might have access to their computers and therefore could learn about this hideaway?
Nita glanced at him from where she bent over the computer’s keyboard, her expression a mix of excitement and wonder. “I think I figured it out.”
She clicked something with her mouse and a visual of schematics appeared on the windows. He walked up to it, examining the diagrams they’d just been looking at on the computer in the office.
“Here’s something that will blow your mind,” he said, and tapped the top corner of the computer window on the glass. The box reduced to an icon beside several others, and he tapped on one, opening a new folder.
“Get the fuck out of here,” she murmured, and her heels clicked quickly as she ran over to stand beside him. “This is some Avengers shit right here.”
Ryder grunted a laugh, but his mind churned with conflicting thoughts.
The level of security provided by the bullet-proof naloxicine glass, along with the reinforced steel in the elevator, hinted at a danger within Cavendish that went far beyond a simple security gig. A tingle on his neck made him look back at where the computer sat.
This much security meant there had to be something else stashed. Probably in those drawers.
He noticed two that had locks, and he opened every other one, checking the backs and sides until he found a small envelope. Inside were keys, and he used each one to unlock the two drawers.
He pulled them open, revealing a small safe in each. His gut clenched, and he immediately looked around, scouting for something tall that would look like an AK or shotgun safe. He strode into the bedroom, opening the bedside drawers, looking into the small bathroom, and scanning the empty closet.
“Holy shit,” Nita called from the main room, and his heart leapt into his throat.
“Nita, don’t—” he called out as he hurried out of the bedroom. His heart, which had leaped into his throat, stopped beating as he saw her holding a handgun. “Put that down.”
The words barked out of him, and he cursed himself for not controlling his emotions. She slowly lowered the gun back to its case.
“Calm down, I was just feeling the weight of it,” she replied tartly.
“Have you handled guns before?” he asked, stepping toward the drawers and letting his body push her aside.
“Once, but I’ve never shot one. I’m not really a gun person,” she admitted, folding her arms. “Are you?”
He took his time with the guns, noting that one was a Glock and the other a showy Smith & Wesson .357. He checked to make sure each gun was empty, then replaced them and relocked each safe.
“I used to handle guns all the time. Not any more,” he responded, closing the drawers and locking them as well.
He turned to face her, trying to keep his face emotionless as memories threatened to resurface.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” Nita asked. Her eyes flickered between the drawer and his tense face.
Ryder’s voice came out more abruptly than he intended. “Something, but it’s nothing to do with this situation. Let’s just agree to keep these drawers and guns locked up.”
Nita’s brows furrowed with concern. “Shouldn’t we have one of those guns for protection? Especially if some uninvited guest shows up at Magdalena’s engagement?”
His response was sharp, bordering on rude. “No. Trust me, you don’t want to mess with guns. There’s no coming back from mistakes made with them.”
Her gaze lingered on him, filled with questions he wasn’t ready to answer. “Then what do you use for protection?” she asked, her voice softer now.
