“Yeah. But also blood brother. Glad I made his ass sit this one out. He didn’t deserve to see this.”
“And you did?”
“Spent half an hour chained to a bed by you. So, yeah, I deserve it.”
“Thirty minutes? That’s a disappointing amount of time to pick a handcuff key.”
“Couldn’t reach for anything.”
“You should be more prepared than that.”
“Like this?” I asked, pulling the cuff key out of my pocket.
Her lips twitched a bit at that.
“Worried I might cuff you again?”
“Figure if I’m dealing with you, I should be prepared.”
“Well, luckily, you won’t be dealing with me. Get out of my apartment. It would be a real shame to mess all that up,” she said, gaze sliding down me, then back up, “with a bullet hole.”
A woman threatening to shoot me had no right to be hot. And yet.
“You’re not gonna shoot me.”
“You’ve yet to give me a reason not to.”
“How about I’m not here to hurt you.”
“And yet, you’re armed.”
“I’m not the one with my finger near a trigger.”
“You’re not the one whose home was broken into.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed, looking around, hoping to put her more at ease, since I didn’t think she was the kind of woman who was going to believe promises about not hurting her.
“You got the whole top floor, huh?” I asked.
It was a cavernous space that she kept as a giant studio. Since she seemed like someone who was always paranoid aboutthreats, I figured the layout had everything to do with there not being many places for someone to hide to catch her unaware—just the bathroom and closet. Even her bed, which was toward the far left, was on a platform, so no one could climb under it.
The bathroom was just inside the door to the right. And behind that, was the kitchen and dining space.
Directly forward was her living room, featuring a lush blue corduroy couch and a large flatscreen on the wall. To each side and beneath the TV were glass door cabinets full to the fucking brim with DVD cases.
Someone was into movies.
I couldn’t say why, but it was nice to know that about the woman who, so far, was a complete enigma.
A few feet from the TV was another screen, but it was showing the camera feeds.
Somewhere between the couch and the dining space was an executive desk facing outward with a laptop and several notepads set on top with folders sitting beneath them.
“Like doing shit the old fashioned way, huh?” I asked, nodding toward the notepads, then the movies.
“No digital devices are safe. Everything on them can be recovered. Burnt paper can not. And it’s really stupid to ‘buy’ digital copies since you’re not actually buying them, you’re renting them. And they can snatch them back at anytime. Several of those movies aren’t available to watch anywhere and aren’t sold anymore. There’s value in physical media. Even if they kind of clutter up a space.”
“Big movie buff, huh?” I asked, walking over to the cabinets to peruse her collection.
