“Ready?” Quinton asked, moving to stand, grabbing my purse, and handing it to me.
With little choice on whether I was ready or not, I stood, and followed him out to the hall, where he paused to let me get a refill on my coffee before leading me back toward reception, then through a door to the side of Jules’s desk.
We ascended the stairs in silence, nothing but the light tapping of our feet on the steps to fill the void. We reached a door at the top where Quinton stopped to punch another code in.
The security at this place was insane.
“Alright this is a common room,” he told me, leading me inside to what was set up very much like a living room with couches, armchairs, a giant TV, coffee table, and plush gray carpet. To the side was a large stainless steel fridge, counter, coffee machine, microwave, and what seemed to be a pantry. “If you’re hungry before the meeting, help yourself to anything in here. Your room is this way,” he told me, leading me down a hall to the side of the makeshift little kitchen. Much like the office downstairs, there were doors lining each side. Ten in total. One for each employee plus a spare. Or ten clients who needed a place to crash. “Here we go,” he said, leading me to the one at the very end. “Settle in. Try to get some rest. Someone will be up to fetch you later tonight.”
Without anything else, he moved to walk away.
My voice burst out of me suddenly, like my body couldn’t contain it anymore. “Quinton!”
He turned back slowly, one brow raised. “Quin,” he corrected.
“Quin,” I repeated. “Thank you. For… all of this. I mean…”
“This is what we do,” he shrugged it off, moving to walk away before I could speak again.
And, sure, this was what they did.
But they did this for paying clients.
Which I wasn’t.
But there was no use harping on that. He clearly knew I couldn’t pay, but wanted to help regardless. What did they say about looking a gift horse in the mouth?
I turned back to the door, pushing it open, and moving inside.
The lights were already on in the comfortable, but sparse space. There was a full-sized bed with simple deep gray sheets and comforter, a deep wood nightstand and dresser that matched the wood on the floor, a small closet, and a door that led into a bathroom with a compact shower stall, sink with a medicine cabinet mirror, and the usual toilet. The space was small enough to practically touch both sides of the walls, but seeing as this was temporary lodging, there was really no reason to have a giant, spacious bathroom.
I took a breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and kicking off my shoes as I dug through my purse to find my phone, thanking my lucky stars that Mondays and Tuesdays – yesterday and today – were my days off. Kennedy would have been flipping out if I just didn’t show up to work, seeing as I was the only waxer on staff.
It was back to that normal tomorrow, but for now, I could just curl up in this bed, and process what had just happened.
I had a feeling I was going to need more than just a couple hours to do so.
But I would have to take what I could get.
FOUR
Quin
What a fucking day.
And it was only a third of the way over.
I hadn’t slept in close to thirty hours, but, luckily, that was not so unusual that my body or brain was giving up on me about it. I just felt sluggish and slower than usual as I moved back downstairs after depositing Aven in one of the rooms.
It was a clusterfuck of uncertainty, her case.
Thankfully, we specialized in clusterfucks.
The not knowing the body was what was the most pressing concern as I banged on doors as I moved down the hall, calling everyone into my office.
Finn was still over at Aven’s place. Meticulous to the core, he would scrub every last inch of that place with bleach after vacuuming. Then he would put down a new floor in Aven’s room, using the stained wood beneath her carpet as kindling to set the whole mess of evidence ablaze in a giant bonfire that only he would know the location of. The body, well, that would be melted. They always were. It was the only way to ensure that they wouldn’t be found, and someday link back to who did the deed.
“This about the pretty girl with the bruises?” Kai asked as the men gathered in.
“Pretty girl with bruises?” Smith asked, curious. He had been the one to take her call in the first place. When I wasn’t around, he was in charge. The General, the guys around the office called him, thanks to his ex-military training. He was tall and solidly built with a wide jaw, hazel eyes, and brown hair that he kept just slightly longer than his military days.