“That’s very progressive,” I murmur appreciatively. I imagine teamwork building is a must in this line of business.
“That’s my man,” Joslyn replies with a soft smile. Wow! If I could paint a picture of what being in love meant, it would be the expression she’s wearing right now.
For some odd reason, it makes me feel sad I’ve never worn that look before. I wonder if Cruce has.
Which is even odder. I have no business wondering about him in that manner.
Still, I can’t deny I like it when he puts his hand on my neck to make sure I have eyes only for him.
Or that I feel very safe and secure when I’m in his presence.
And damn… last night at the State dinner, I didn’t want the evening to end. I got lost in talking to him, dancing with him, and laughing together.
Yes, I am just a job to him, but it doesn’t mean he’s not easy to like.
I mean, way too easy to like.CHAPTER 8CruceI head down to the first-floor basement. Kynan chose to keep its appearance abandoned and filthy as a deterrent in case anyone managed to get past the alarm system and fortified locks on the doors. He wanted any intruder to only see what this placed appeared to be… unoccupied and worthless. It wouldn’t keep someone at bay from exploring for long, but it would give the occupants time to react.
Eventually, I imagine he’ll do something down here, but for now, I don’t give it much thought other than to head to the east end of the building. Joslyn told me Kynan was in the conference room on the second floor, but he’d texted me to come straight to Sub Three.
Apparently, this warehouse was originally built with underground food and beverage storage, which used the natural chill of subterranean temperatures. There are three floors below the first floor, but they don’t run the entire length of the building and Sub One butts up against the garage level. Each floor is about fifty-feet-by-a-hundred feet and can be accessed by a separate freight elevator on the east side. Only Sub One has been renovated, and it’s where Research and Tech will operate once Kynan makes further hires. I expect Dozer and Bebe will have a lot of say in who comes to work in that division.
I take the rumbling boxed mode of transportation down, wishing I’d worn a jacket as it’s fucking cold. I’d guess maybe high forties, but in the darkened space with concrete flooring it seems colder.
Kynan and Saint are waiting for me.
Grinning, Saint holds out a fist. “Excellent shot, bro.”
I bump my fist against his. “Thanks.” Turning to Kynan, I ask, “You get anything from him yet?”
“Not much,” he says, but he doesn’t sound the least bit disgruntled about it. “Took a bit of time to get him patched up. Poor Corinne had to put stitches in him, and she bitched about it the entire time.”
“She’s a psychiatrist,” I point out. “The last time she treated an actual body was probably medical school.”
“I’ll give her a fucking bonus,” Kynan mutters as he stalks across the barren space. “But he gave his name—Keith Spire—and Bebe did a short background check. He lives in Bethesda, he’s single, works at a garage, and has some minor convictions like petty larceny.”
There’s a door on the opposite end of the room, and he opens it to give me a peek inside. In the center of the small area, the man I shot sits in a chair. His hands are tied behind his back, his legs to the chair. Someone dressed him in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. There’s a black blindfold tied around his eyes, and his head pops up at the sound of the door opening.
“Who’s there?” he demands angrily. “I’m fucking cold and hungry. I’ve been shot. I demand to have my phone call. I want my lawyer.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kynan snarls before slamming the door shut. We take a few steps away so there’s no chance our voices will carry to him. “So far, he’s denied knowing any deep details of why Barrett is a target. Swears he and his partner were hired anonymously, and they were only told to grab her and bring her to a location that would be given to them once they had her. They were paid five thousand dollars up front, and they would get another five thousand on delivery.”
“Do you believe him?” I ask skeptically.
Kynan shrugs. “We haven’t had a lot of time with him yet. Saint and I did the good cop/bad cop routine a bit, but he’s stuck to the same story that he doesn’t know anything.”
“Give me ten minutes with the fucker and I’ll get the information,” I growl.
Chuckling, Kynan claps me on the shoulder. “As much as I’d like to, you know we can’t rough him up. We’re walking a fine line here, seeing as how we’ve essentially kidnapped the kidnapper.”