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“Tonight.”
“Tonight? Fuck, girl.” A dense sigh rattles the speaker. “What can I do?”
“Spread the word.”
I hang up, knowing she will.
I do everything Reece and I talked about. I go home to Kordin, where I stay until after dinner when I leave in my Range Rover to get my mom groceries. I drive them over to her, spending a couple quality hours with her before returning home and settling in for the night.
Except a few hours after Kordin falls asleep, I take a sharp deviation from the plan as I slip out of bed, go to my closet to retrieve the two cheap duffle bags I bought at the grocery store, then take off again, this time in Kordin’s Porsche because I don’t know whether Cyrus put a tracker on my Range Rover or not, and I’m not taking any chances. Thishasto go off without a hitch.
Driving to the exact location Reece and I are supposed to meet in less than twenty-four hours, I park and survey the land surrounding Cyrus’s warehouse. By now Reece will be at either the firm or Kaisin’s house, and Cyrus should be at The Playground, neither of them the wiser.
All alone, I empty one of the duffel bags into the passenger seat. Once I’m changed into my stealth outfit, I cut out the bottom of that same bag, taking the canvas-and-polyester flap with me as well as the other, still intact duffel bag.
Using the same air duct I showed Reece, I carefully make my way into the warehouse, stopping at Cyrus’s bedroom first. His closet is full of all kinds of weapons, some not even the government can get ahold of, but I focus on the guns, making sure I grab one with a silencer and that each one is loaded before placing as many as I can fit into the duffel bag in a single layer. With a needle and a thread, I hand-sew the second bag’s flap over the top of the guns in the other, concealing the guns entirely.
The safe is next. I put in my own birthdate as the combination and the door pops open to reveal…less money than there was in here last time. Significantly less. Is that the real reason why Cyrus wants me working for him so bad? Did he take a financial hit recently?
Hopefully. It’s theleastof what that man deserves.
On the top shelf sits a flash drive. I’m just releasing a sigh of relief when I notice it’s black and red, not black and orange. Was it orange? It was dark but there was enough light for me to make out…
I could’ve sworn the flash drive Cyrus was holding was black with orange accents.
Shit. I didn’t even think to double-check with Reece either.
It’s not like I can ask him now.
I grab the flash drive, then start loading stacks of cash into the bag, on top of the hidden guns. As soon as the bag’s full, I go out the same way I came in.
After another outfit change in the Porsche, I head toward the final destination, praying to God it’s not my final destination.
Lex
The bouncers make me set the duffle bag by my feet. While one unzips it, inspecting the contents, the other pats me down, the cold from his hands seeping through my turtleneck bodycon dress, causing me to shiver. The ribbed black material stops a few inches above my knees with only a slice of skin showing between the hem and my over-the-knee boots.
“Boss was expecting you tomorrow night,” the bouncer spending too much time checking the curve of my ass says.
My body begs to physically recoil away from any touch other than Reece’s.
Gritting my teeth, I wait until he circles back around to my front to arch an eyebrow at him. Is he really going to risk turning me and my bag of cash away just because I’m a day early? How well would Cyrus take that?
“How ’bout I give you a hand with that?” He tilts his head toward the bag. The other bouncer’s still poking around inside, his face screwed up in thought. If he pokes too deep, too hard…
My heart speeds up as I fight to keep my breathing under control.
“Ever been in an airport?” I ask him, my words slurred.
Both men stop to exchange looks.
Keeping my face arrogantly stoic, I ignore the taste of copper as I flip the sharp blade from under my tongue to above it, pushing the metal over to the side, between my teeth and cheek.
More blood fills my mouth and I unfortunately have to swallow it down to say much clearer, “Same rules apply. Never let a stranger handle your bag.”
I bend down and grip the handles together, effectively cutting the search short.
“We know who you are.”
