“He fucking lied.” I spit the words out.
“He sounded so convincing,” Colby says, sounding confused and lost.
I can’t say anything to that, because yeah, he fooled us and that burns, but more importantly, I need to figure out what the hell we’re supposed to do now.
“Eian.” The urgency in his voice as he grips my arm tightly is enough to get my attention. “What are the best lies?”
I shake my head at him, and can barely make out the desperation in his eyes.
He wants this to be done and over as much as I do.
And I can . . .
His words from earlier today bring back such an uncomfortable feeling, my shoulders snap back. I’m not letting him go. I told him last night, and I don’t care what he has to do with his life to be happy, but he’s going to do that next to me. I won’t allow any other option.
“Eian,” Colby snaps and brings me back to the present.
Right, Mayor of New York, more important shit to deal with—for now.
“What?” I demand.
“The closer they are to the truth, the better the lies,” Colby says urgently.
That’s . . . true.
“So . . . they probably did meet here.”
“Yes!” He jumps excitedly. “The stairs lead right to the house. What do you wanna bet they met in an office up there?”
This wasn’t the plan, we have no clue?—
“I remember the floor plan, so I know where it might be, on the ground floor. Come on.” Before I can say a word he’s sprinting away, and there I am, running up the flight of stairs behind him.
I take my gun from my shoulder holster, and once I catch up with Colby, I stand in front of him and hold it up, pointing it and my flashlight down the dark hallway.
I turn back to the front of the house and half the hallway is blocked by the stairs, but the rest looks clear.
“I think it’s there,” Colby whispers, and points to the back of the house, the last door on the left. We move steadily but slowly, and when we get to the door, I find it unlocked.
This room is not empty at all. It seems too crowded even. Again, Colby rushes forward before I’m ready for him to move. He’s behind the big desk and opening drawers as I take in the two walls of bookcases full of bullshit awards and dusty old books.
“Eian,” Colby whispers urgently. “This one’s locked. Stop admiring the damn decor and come open this for me.”
“Always so damn snarky,” I mutter, and as I approach I point my light to the desk. “There’s a computer right there.”
“I doubt he uses that one for this nasty shit,” he snaps back and points at the fourth drawer on the left side of the desk.
With a sigh, I get down on my knees and slide the duffel from my shoulder to the ground, then get to work. Colby helpfully shines light on the lock for me, and it’s a very basic one, so it takes me no time.
“That’s it,” he whispers excitedly.
I take the laptop out and hand it over to him.
“Yes!” He cheers a little bit louder. “God, these old motherfuckers are so stupid.” He points to a laminated piece of paper that’s on top of the keyboard when he opens the laptop. It has a string of letters and numbers then “Owner,” then what I suppose is another password.
Colby puts the first password in and unlocks the computer. He clearly has that under control, so I look in the drawer and find about a million papers.
I put my gun down on the desk, holding the flashlight in my mouth so I can flip through them easily and...
