“It’s fine,” Seb said quickly, straightening his back. “I’ll just wait here.” He gestured to an old leather chair, sitting beneath a painting of a ship.
The woman had already turned back to her novel when the door swung open, and Declan let himself inside. The room was dimly lit, with blinds covering the window and old wallpaper, checkered with dark purples and reds. Declan’s handler was sitting behind his own desk, his hands folded in front of him. He was about ten years Declan’s senior, but Declan could tell that, beneath his bulk, the man was still all muscle.
“Mr. Reed. Glad to finally meet you in person.”
He grunted, then gestured to the empty chairs. “What’s so urgent, Declan?”
Declan took the seat, then leaned forward, holding his boss’s eye. “Are you telling me you didn’t hear?”
The man laughed, a creaking, grating sound that made Declan want to shove cotton in his ears. “I suppose I did hear a thing or two. And what do you want me to do about it?”
Something inside Declan tensed. He felt a sharp need for a cigarette. “What do I want you to do about it?” he repeated the question. “I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on. I signed up to fight some lowlife local gang, not to face down three trained killers.”
He said it a hell of a lot sharper than he intended, considering the debt he owed to Big Paolo. But irritation was scratching at Declan, and he was sick and fucking tired of being left in the dark by men who thought their shit didn’t stink.
Reed held his hand in the air. He frowned, his fat lips turning down as he wavered his hand, back and forth. “Street gang,” he said. “Killers. I don’t know anything about this.”
Instead of yelling or pounding down on the desk with both fists, Declan squeezed his hands as tight as he could. Storming out wouldn’t do any good, and there was more than one way to get info out of a man like Reed.
“Sure,” Declan said. “And I don’t know anything about what they were trying to steal.”
Reed didn’t say anything for a moment, then nodded. The way he narrowed his eyes, it seemed like Declan had poked in the right hole.
Now he just needed the weasel to stick his head out.
“Of course,” Reed said, “the threat was to kidnap our client and hold him for ransom. I trust you still remember that it’s your job to keep him safe?”
Declan chuckled. If only Reed knew how much that job now mattered to Declan. “Trust me. I won’t forget my fucking job.”
“Then are you trying to suggest something, Declan? Insinuate an accusation?” The man clicked his tongue. “Big Paolo didn’t tell me you were nosy.”
“Big Paolo doesn’t say a lot of things,” Declan answered. But it was clear that his fishing wouldn’t get anywhere, at least not that afternoon. Reed was a stone wall, and he definitely knew how to keep his secrets. Gritting his teeth, Declan decided to try the direct route one more time. “Listen, I almost had my head blown off last night, got it? And if I get my head blown off, I can’t do my damn job. I just need you to level and tell me what we’re looking at. How much worse is this thing going to get?”
Reed creaked his chair back, then pressed a button on his desk, buzzing the front. “My receptionist will see you out,” he said, his voice icy and the conversation clearly finished. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything.”
Frustration crashed down on Declan, but he knew he was in no spot to fight back. He hated feeling powerless, more than just about any other damn thing in the world, and Reed was leaving him on the ground like a fucking cockroach. With a quick nod of his head, he pushed back out into the lobby, cursing his own failure under his breath. “Have a good day,” he said to the receptionist with a nod, then gestured for Seb to follow along.
“You find anything out?” Seb asked as they headed down the stairs.
“Nothing useful,” Declan answered. A pang hit his gut. He hated telling Seb that he had failed. Like Reed had told him, he had one damn job, and if he was still in the dark, he wasn’t so sure he could do it.
Seb paused by the door and rested his hand on the wall. With the hood on his jacket hanging down, his hair was mussed, and he looked shy.
“What?” Declan asked.
Seb shoved his hand in his pocket, then pulled out his cell phone. “I got something,” he said, waving it in the air. “I noticed that the wifi network in there wasn’t very well secured, and I started poking around and kind of grabbed some stuff.”
“What?” Declan growled the word under his breath, then pushed Seb’s hand with the phone down. “You did what?” he asked under his breath.
“I just thought, well, you didn’t seem to trust them,” Seb whispered back. “And I was just sitting there anyway, so…”
Declan grimaced. He didn’t like Seb taking any sort of risk, but he couldn’t lie—he was impressed too, and more than a little eager to find out what was on the drive.
“Come on,” he said, ready to hurry Seb out of the building. “Let’s get you home.”
