Benedikt
A manila folder lands on my desk with a haughty slap.
I don’t move for it right away.
Instead, I lean back, fingers steepled, and fix a flat stare on Artem, who’s too comfortable on the other side of my desk.
He takes up too much space. He always has.
He’s built like a tank, with broad shoulders stretching his tailored suit to its limits and forearms thick with muscle where he’s rolled up his sleeves. Close-cropped blond hair and a jagged scar running just beneath his jawline.
He’s the kind of man people get out of the way for, whether they realize it or not.
Not that he ever rushes. Artem moves when he feels like it, at his pace, with the same unbothered expression he’s wearing now.
“Can I help you?” I wait for any reaction but the usual blank one.
He tips his chin toward the folder. “The information you wanted on Sienna Graves.”
I exhale through my nose. “Is that why I got the cake?”
It’s not a question. The moment Sienna mentioned who had ordered it, I knew why my right-hand man had done it.
It wasn’t because I had a sweet tooth. It was so I could meet the woman who’d just been offered to me.
“It was the only way I could think of to get her here without physical contact,” he replies evenly.
I flip open the folder, skimming over details I expected.
Twenty-seven, a few past addresses, and no criminal record. She is a university dropout with a grandmother in assisted living and a ghost of a father.
A ghost who owes me money.
She has debt; typical shit like credit cards and student loans. Enough to make her pliable if the right offer was placed in front of her.
But I knew all this.
Google isn’t hard to use.
“I thought you were bringing me something interesting,” I say, “not shit I’ve already found on my own.”
“You didn’t flip the other pages yet, Ben.”
“If it’s a list of her boyfriends, I don’t give a fuck.”
“It’s what she’sdoingthat might have your dick hard by the time you’re done.”
Doubtful.
Flipping the page, I skim the black font then read it twice to make sure I’m seeing it right.
She codes.
The little bakery she’s working at is one of the many stomping grounds for dirty politicians that I’ve been keeping tabs on for months.
It’s a front.
A discreet system for moving messages between corrupt lawmakers and law enforcement. Payoffs, sensitive intel, and quiet little deals, all wrapped up in a box of cookies and cakes.
