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Part of me hopes for another round with Devan, no matter the consequences.
I enjoy our verbal sparring too much for my own good.
The other part of me knows it’s safer, smarter, you name it, to keep my distance. Let Devan work in tandem with me while I figure out what’s happening to my guys, and one of us is bound to get to the answer. Sooner, later, whatever, as long as we get there.
My phone pings from my pocket, and I know, without a doubt, it’s Broderick. Probably asking what the hell I’m doing at the precinct since he’s got tracking software on my phone, and I allow it.
Exceptthatwill be a whole-ass conversation, and I’m not ready for it yet. I’ll handle it eventually, but not now.
I might have to snag a ride into the office. Since my vehicle is at the fucking Galleria.
Damn detective.
I’m not about to tell him how pissed it makes me to be an hour away from my personal mode of transportation, but damn, it irks me.
It’s a longer walk than I bargain for, and a few blocks further, I head down to the subway, opting for public transit instead. The stop is only a few streets away from Broderick’s private residence building in one of the more upscale parts of Empire Bay. Old money.
The heels I wear because they make my legs and ass look fabulous are killer. My toes burn, and my pinkies are numb by the time I make it to the building.
I used to walk these streets sometimes as a teen to remind myself of what I wanted one day. To have one of those stone or brick mansions for myself, the trees too large for a grown man to wrap his arms around and touch fingers.
Now I work here. I’m a part of the lifeblood of this community, or so I tell myself. The dream is still there, and now I’ve gotten a better look at the area and these houses.
It will all be mine someday, I think with a smile, nodding at the guards manning the doors at the front of the residence. Two more stand in front of the elevator and pointedly stare ahead while I slide my keycard out of my wallet to access the higher floors.
“Blake!” I call out the second I reach the right floor and kick off the dreaded beast heels. They clatter together with the toe close enough to the wall to leave a smudge. “Blake, I need you.”
He pops his head out of the office. “What’s the matter?” He stares me up and down.
“Okay, please don’t kill me,” I say right away. I scrub a hand over the back of my neck and head, but it doesn’t matter; my chest is tight, too, bound by invisible threads. I give up scrubbing and turn to Blake with his lips tight.
“Why would I kill you?” he asks.
“Can you please find someone to go pick up my car at the Galleria? Circumstances conspired against me today, and my car is there, but I’m here.”
He always accuses me of talking too much, as though keeping your story plausible by overloading it with details is a bad thing.
I keep it short, sweet, to the point. And try not to think about my hands on Devan or his hands on me, anywhere on my body. I’m a fucking idiot.
Blake’s confusion shows. “Fine,” he replies. “I’ll take care of it.”
No questions, thank the good lord.
I flop down in my office chair and turn in a circle, my feet aching and the rest of me feeling like I’ve been taken for one wild ride after another. I’m just happy I made it back to Empire Bay in time. Broderick has another meeting scheduled for this afternoon, and if I didn’t show up, I might have hurt my chances at another high climb.
Kitty has to make sure the claws come out, and I’m not in a good mental space to focus on my growth within the company.
I’ve made it this far, sure, but the five-year plan is always the same: go higher, get better, smarter, and one day take over the Syndicate.
Talk about control.
Broderick has it, and I want it.
Something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, all the way back to a childhood where children were seen and not heard. Background noise, but not too much of it, or else you got the belt snapped across your ass or your belly. Anywhere other people won’t be able to see the red welts.
Thirty minutes is all the time I have to get myself cleaned up and presentable. Maybe change into the other outfit I keep in my desk at all times. I’d allowed myself a little panic cry in the subway and scrub at my eyes and the makeup I’m surely smearing.
“Hey, what is your car doing all the way at the Galleria?” Blake asks, hanging up on a phone call in words too soft for me to make out.
