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I yank again at the offensive silk material, ridding myself of it and shoving it into my pocket as the elevator in my apartment building reaches my floor.
I step off and turn right toward my door. As I pull my eyes from my pocket, my phone buzzes. Whoever it is will have to wait. I’m done with this fucking day and all the shit that still needs to get done.
When the key touches the lock, I see a small, folded up piece of paper shoved in the door slit. My eyebrows furrow. Who the hell left a note like this? If it had come from the complex, it would have been sent via email. I don’t know any of the neighbors, so I highly doubt they would leave me a note, either.
I snatch it out, unfold it, and find scratchy, messy handwriting with no signature. It takes me a couple of passes to read the damn thing, but when I do, my blood chills, my back stiffens, and my hand balls into a fist.
I would be very careful if I were you.
You don’t know who you’re dealing with or the lengths he will go to silence us all.
You can find the truth from an unlikely source, one that you think is your enemy.
You’re just a pawn like the rest of us.
Even if you uncover the truth, he can’t bestopped.
I slam the key into the keyhole, the metal biting into my fingers as I clench my grip around it. The door opens and slams back against the wall with a thud.
What in the actual fuck is this?
Who would write this and leave it at my fucking home?
How would they even get past the doorman?
Question after question runs rampant in my head. One question just leads to another, and then to another. I slam the door shut behind me and immediately take my phone out of my pocket to call down to the front desk.
“This is Morgan speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Andrew Shaw in apartment 306. Do you know if anyone came up to my apartment?” My anger and frustration bleed through my voice toward the poor girl on the other end of the call. I take a deep breath, trying to wrangle my emotions.
She seems startled. “I can connect you to the head of security in the building.”
“That would be just peachy, Morgan. Thank you.” I try to hold back the bite in my tone, but I don’t have the time or patience because I don’t have time for any of this shit.
The line rings three time before a man with a deep voice picks up. “This is Norris. What can I do for ya?”
His nonchalant tone puts me on edge even further. “What you can do is tell me how a non-approved fucker made it up to my apartment to leave a threatening note.”
“Excuse me, sir? Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Andrew Shaw in apartment 306, and I need to know who came up to my apartment today without my consent or knowledge.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. Shaw. We take this kind of thing very seriously here at Norris Security. I can check camera footage and get back to you. Are you sure it was left today?”
“Yes!” I stop myself. I’ve been gone all weekend and half of last week. It’s possible the note has been here for days. I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my short temper. I have some things going on that pose safety concerns since I’m an attorney. Now that I think about it, I can’t be positive it was left today. I’ve been gone since Wednesday of last week.”
I won’t tell a complete stranger all the bullshit going on, but I need him to realize how serious this is.
“I understand, sir. This will take my team a few days to sift through all the footage. Is this a matter that will require the police?”
I don’t hesitate. I don’t want the police involved. Especially if this involves who I suspect it does. At least, not yet.
“Not at this time. If we see something on the security footage I think is a bigger concern, then we can discuss involving the police.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
“I understand, sir. Can I have your phone number to contact you directly if we find something?”
I rattle off my number, make sure he has it correct, then end the call. I stare at the note still clutched in my hand for a few moments before walking over to the cabinet where I store the liquor. A fucking beer won’t cut it tonight.
