Even my gait felt wrong as I made my way down the hallway. It was like my feet were trailing ahead of the rest of me, and my knees seemed determined to jangle together with each step.
I hoped to anyone who might see me that they would think I had to pee or something.
Not that I was about to break into my boss’s office while my accomplice had him distracted.
I tried not to glance around, to look over my shoulder, to do anything that made it look like I was up to something.
Most of the cameras in the casino were old and very obvious. And I hadn’t seen any of them in the back rooms.Butthat didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Or that smaller, hidden ones weren’t around.
I held my breath as I turned into the hallway where Frank’s office was situated, praying there was no guard stationed outside of it.
But all there was in the hallway was a stack of packages that had yet to be opened.
I sucked in a steadying breath that only managed to go right to my head, making me throw out a hand when dizziness had me feeling like I might topple off my heels.
“Get it together,” I mumbled to myself as I took a few (shallower) breaths.
I moved away from the wall and went to the door. Some part of me hoped it was locked, that I could just tell Milo I tried, but I didn’t know how to pick a lock.
Then maybe he’d give me lessons. Standing real close behind me, his arms around me, hands on mine showing me how to move the picks, his warm breath on my neck, and his hard length…
No.
God.
What was wrong with me?
Totally not the time for sexual fantasies about the strange man paying me to spy on my boss.
That was a red, red flag.
Even if he did have great taste in jewelry.
And loved fish.
We all knew animal lovers couldn’t be all bad.
I shook those thoughts away and closed my hand around the cold fake brass door handle.
And the damn thing turned.
My stomach sank, but I shook off the disappointment and carefully pushed the door open.
I glanced inside.
Huh.
I had no idea Frank was such a packrat.
The place was full of more boxes. Opened ones. Ones with the packing tape still sealed.
Who wanted to work in such a cramped mess? Especially when he had a whole damn casino to distribute things to.
Clearly, he didn’t let any of the cleaning staff in either. Everything had a fine coat of dust. My nose tickled, and I had to fight to keep from sneezing as I moved around his desk. It was straight out of the seventies. An awful reddish-brown fake wood with a lot of dents and dings.
Everything in his office felt dated.
The bookshelves behind the desk. The junk accumulated on the shelves. Theprinterlooked like one I had in middle school.
