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I’d rather not think about an end date, honestly.
“So this Cole,” Ari starts. “How did you meet him?”
“There were some threats against the company a few years ago. An ex-employee wasn’t happy about being dismissed, and he started harassing some of his old coworkers, people in human resources, anyone who he thought had a part in him losing his job.”
“Cash!” Ari’s voice rises. “You never told me about that! You were threatened?”
Stopping at a red light, I turn to look at her. “I don’t think he would have actuallydoneanything. But it was upsetting the other employees, obviously. And he was careful about what he did, not leaving enough evidence for the police to do anything. But I had run into Cole around town and knew he had a security company, so I asked for his help.”
“And he solved it?”
“He did.” I turn right onto a tree-lined single lane road. “And his company has helped out a couple of times since then, providing security for high-profile events, investigative services—I trust Cole andhis team. And I consider him a friend, so I know he’ll make sure this is done right.”
“Is thisthe place?” Ari’s looking out the window, wide-eyed.
“Yeah.” I park on the road in front of the large brick building. At first glance, it looks like any other office building, except this one is surrounded by a tall metal fence topped with floodlights and cameras. There are heavy duty gates at the driveway and front walk, both monitored by a state-of-the-art surveillance system.
Ari glances at me. “That’s a lot of… security, isn’t it?”
“Well—” I give her a crooked smile. “Itisa security company, after all.”
As we wait at the front gate, I explain, “They don’t just work here, the team lives here, too. Some of the guys are married, or they live here with a partner. So they’re extra invested in making sure the property is safe.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” When the gate opens, Ari jumps. Flushing, she admits, “I’m a little nervous. I don’t know why. I just am.”
“It’s okay.” I take her hand without thinking and she startles.Crap.
But a moment later, her fingers tighten around mine, and she flashes me a grateful look.
Cole is waiting at the entrance, a small smile on his face, his gaze dipping to land on our entwined hands. He doesn’t comment, just steps forward to clap his hand on my shoulder. “Cash. It’s good to see you. Though,” his expression sobers. “I’d prefer it was for something more pleasant.”
I lift my chin at him. “I know. But I’m glad you were able to fit us in.”
“And Ariana.” Cole holds out his hand, and Ari drops mine to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you. Although I’m sure I’ve seen you around town. You look very familiar.”
Ari smiles back at him, some of her tension dropping at his genial tone. “Probably. I don’t go out much, but I think I’ve seen you around, too. It's nice to officially meet you. And please—” Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Call me Ari.”
“Ari, then.” Cole leads us inside, through the reception area, and into a large conference room. He gestures at the long, glossy wooden table surrounded by leather office chairs. “Sit anywhere you like.”
Ari and I sit next to each other on one long side, while Cole picks up a folder from the end of the table and settles in a chair opposite us. While he opens the folder and scans the first page inside, Ari clutches the arms of her chair, white-knuckled.
Not wasting any time, Cole gets right into it. “Well. We found some information on Morgan.”
“What did you find out?” Ari asks, leaning toward him. Her nails dig into the leather of the chair.
Cole hesitates, his gaze moving to me in an unspoken question. Gentle or straight to the point? I give a tiny shake of my head—gentle, please—and he nods in response.
Ari glances between us and her brow comes down. “I don’t know whatthatlook was, but I’m the one he drugged and stuck in a trunk. So if there’s a question, ask me.” She pauses, and her voice softens. “Please.”
Shit. She’s right. I cover her hand with mine, giving it a little squeeze. “I’m sorry, Ari.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Cole says, his expression apologetic. “If I did that to Maya—my fiancée—she’d yell at me. So I’ll ask you. Do you want the information gently, or right to the point?”
She gives Cole a grim smile. “Just tell me. Don’t drag it out.”
Cole dips his head at her. “Okay. So, Kyle Morgan is thirty-three and lives in Manhattan. His official job title is Equities Trader, but he’s employed by his father, who owns the firm. His father, Lucas Morgan, is extremely wealthy, with an estimated net worth of over one hundred million dollars.”
“Unofficially, Kyle doesn’t do any work at the firm,” Cole continues. “He just lives off his father’s money. And he gets bailed out by it, too.”
