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“You’re sure about that? She’s already tried to get out once.”
I turn away from the screen where footage from various security cameras plays. The moment I got the alert that she opened the door, I pulled up the feed from the camera in that hallway. I almost laughed when the ringing phone made her jump. “Is this what I pay you for? To tell me things I already know?”
He lowers his brow, and it reminds me of a bull preparing to charge. He knows better. That doesn’t make him immune to frustration, however. “She’s a wild card.”
“Not so wild. She has no way of communicating with the outside world. She can’t use the elevator without the code. And if she leaves the room, I know immediately. She’s no risk.” He grunts, setting off a flicker of irritation that I’m barely able to control. “Refresh my memory. Was it you who told me today that she seems completely clueless?”
“How much longer will she be clueless when you keep her around here?”
“Are you telling me there’s a flaw in security? Is that the problem?”
His jaw ticks, but he’s smart enough to bite back whatever else is going on in his mind. I have him cornered, and he knows it. He also knows better than to push me any further. At least, he should keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him. I’m not in the mood to discuss this already baffling situation.
It’s baffling because I don’t know why the hell she matters so much. Since when do I go out of my way for anyone aside from the people closest to me? I learned a long time ago to limit the amount of concern I expend. It’s an investment at the end of the day. I invest in the people who are worthy of my time and skills. Life is a lot clearer and less complicated once a man makes that decision.
So why is she here? I can’t imagine a return even remotely worth the amount of effort I’ve put into keeping tabs on her. She certainly has no money to offer. She’s a nobody—no contacts, nobody in her life who could possibly benefit my own. She’s a girl on her way nowhere, with nothing to show for herself.
Yet there she is, lounging in a luxury suite. And somehow, that isn’t good enough for her. She has to test the boundaries I’ve put in place.
Normally, her actions would inspire nothing but bitterness. Resentment. If she were anyone else, I might throw her out on the street and let her find her way home on her own. She could take a bus, the way she was about to when Griffin picked her up. The girl is too easy to predict.
Which is exactly the problem. She thought she was helping her brother, and now she’s wearing a target on her back. At least, she is if this boss Dave spoke of thinks along the lines I do. I can’t see why he wouldn’t. Whoever he is, he is hardly the first cold-hearted criminal I’ve come up against. Men like him aren’t complicated. Nothing matters more than getting what they want. It doesn’t matter who they mow down like tall grass in order to reach their goal.
A girl as predictable as Teagan is an easy kill—end of story.
It seems unfair, the idea of her being one of the innocents who gets cut down. And there I was, imagining myself beyond caring about details like this. I must have turned over a new leaf.
The idea makes me laugh wryly while I change into a dark gray suit for dinner. Considering she’s dressed in jeans, it would be overkill to put on a tie, so I leave the top two buttons of my white shirt open before pulling on my jacket and adjusting my cuffs. I take a cursory glance at myself in the full-length mirror mounted on the inside of my closet door and rake my fingers through my hair before heaving a sigh. Might as well get this over with.
As soon as I open the bedroom door, a soft whistle draws my attention. “Where are you going so dressed up?” Natalie watches me from her spot on the sofa, where she was typing furiously on her laptop before I caught her attention.
“Dressed up? I wear a suit every day.”
She arches an eyebrow, her lips pursed like she doesn’t believe me. “Sure, but that’s your nice suit.”
“I’m not dressed up. And I’m not doing anything special.”
“Okaaaay,” she draws out the word. “Have fun doing nothing.”
Sisters. It doesn’t matter how old we get. She insists on poking at me whenever she has the chance.
If I felt like getting into it, I would tell her I’m not looking forward to this meal, and I’m only going to keep a closer eye on our guest. I would tell her I’ve kept Teagan waiting longer than promised. Not because any urgent work needed my attention but because I was searching for anything to put off the inevitable. I don’t feel like gritting my teeth through a boring—or contentious—meal.
