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Instantly, the cool air hit us, and I took a second to enjoy the decrease in humidity. Even though the fall had started, humidity still reigned in New Orleans. Amy and I flashed our badges to the security guard at the front desk.
“We’re here to see Kavner Fury,” I said.
The man frowned. “One moment, please.” He spoke in hushed tones into a radio.
I scanned the lobby. A creamy marble floor gleamed, shot through with faint veins of red. A large sculpture dominated the central space. It was made of large curves of metal—all in a lustrous bronze color—tangled together and rising toward the high ceiling.
A moment later, a man in a dark blue suit strode towards us. One look and I knew he’d been in the military. He was steady-eyed and serious as he studied our badges.
“I’m Max Boston. Head of Security. Do you have an appointment to see Mr. Fury?”
I lifted my badge. “This is my appointment.”
He eyed me for a beat, then nodded. He pulled out a phone, murmuring into it as he waved a hand toward a solitary elevator on the far side of the lobby.
I led the way, straightening the black jacket of my pantsuit. When the elevator doors opened, Mr. Boston held the doors for us. “Mr. Fury’s office is on the executive level, accessible only by this private elevator.”
Of course it was. The elevator whisked us upward. I stood still and focused, while beside me, Amy fidgeted.
“It’s going to be fine, Amy. I’m just going to ask the man some questions and persuade him to let us take a look at the books for his shipping company.”
Amy dragged in a deep breath. “So why do you look like a knight headed into battle?”
“Hardly.”
The elevator slowed, and the doors opened. We stepped off onto wide-plank, pale wooden floors, and I heard Amy suck in a breath.
I barely controlled my reaction. The space was airy and bright, and screamed classy wealth. I’d half expected heavy wood paneling and dark colors like I’d seen in so many other wealthy businessmen’s offices.
This office had some wood paneling, but it was made from a light-colored wood with an interesting texture. A window seat sat at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, almost inviting you to sit, relax, and take in the view of New Orleans. There was a curved bronze desk where I guessed an admin assistant would sit, but it was currently empty.
We headed down the long hallway, and I noted that the floor-to-ceiling windows gave great views in all directions.
There was a set of double doors at the end of the hallway that stood open. When I reached the doorway, I saw the modern, clean lines of an office that was nothing like the box I was currently using at the FBI office. There was a sleek couch by the windows, and an elegant potted plant in one corner, and a huge wooden desk topped with white marble. A large painting that was made up of strokes of red, orange, and black hung on the wall behind the desk.
But it was the suited man who dominated the space. He was standing behind the desk, one hand in the pocket of his dark suit pants, the other hand keeping a phone pressed to his ear.
He was tall, with a lean, muscled body, and he knew how to wear a suit. He had thick, well-cut brown hair, the slash of high cheekbones, a carved jaw line, and just enough stubble to save him from looking too clean-cut. Some god somewhere must have felt pretty pleased with themselves when they finished sculpting Kavner Fury.
His gaze flicked up.
My muscles tightened. At first glance, his eyes looked black, but they were actually very dark blue.
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ve got to go. Send those files through to me. Thanks.” He set the phone down. “Agent Coleman, always a pleasure.”
I steeled myself against the impact of him. So, he was handsome? There were lots of handsome men in the world.
“Mr. Fury. This is Agent Amy Chen with the FBI.”
He nodded at Amy. “Hello, Agent Chen. Welcome to Ignis Inc. What can I do for you, ladies?”
I cleared my throat. “We’d like to look at the books of your shipping company, Flare Logistics.”
He eyed me for a second, then circled the desk. He paused a foot away from me, then leaned back against the marble. It made me realize how long his legs were. He was too close to me for my liking, but I refused to take a step back.
“Of course,” he said. “We will comply with any warrants you have. I would like my legal team to take a look and make sure everything is in order first.”
Dammit. I lifted my chin. “I don’t have a warrant. I was hoping you’d do this as a show of good faith.”
