My phone vibrates in my pocket on cue.
Efficient as ever.
“Thanks, Keys,” I say, giving his shoulder a brief tap. “That was fast.”
I move around the table and drop into a chair, watching him now. He finally looks up, one brow lifting, a knowing smirk curling his mouth.
“Not my first rodeo,” he says easily. “Which you know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have hired me.”
Then he’s back to his screens, fingers flying.
He knows how good he is. Knows his value. And so do I. Five years we’ve worked together, and not once has he failed to dig up what I need, no matter how buried it was meant to stay.
“You should know,” he says after a moment, eyes never leaving the data, “there’s a lot of activity tied to this safety deposit box.”
My attention sharpens.
“Someone checks it every 48 hours. Exactly forty-eight. 9p.m. Like clockwork.”
He doesn’t need to say the rest.
My father isn’t careless. And he doesn’t spook easily. If he’s circling his own assets, it means he feels someone closing in.
Good.
“That’s useful,” I murmur, standing. “I’m going to see Jaxon. We’ll put something together.”
I reach the door, then pause, half-turning back. “Thank you.”
Keys gives a single nod, no fuss, no false modesty.
I step out of the warehouse and into the night, the air cool against my skin as I head for my car.
The game is moving now.
And no one makes it out untouched. I slide into the car and fire off a text to Jaxon before I can think better of it.
Khai
On my way. Keys’ intel should be with you.
The reply comes instantly.
Jaxon
See you soon, bro.
His house isn’t far. For a reckless, unhinged bastard, Jaxon has always had a taste for beautiful things, solid walls, clean lines, the kind of place that looks like it could survive a war. I pull up, kill the engine, and head straight inside. No knocking. No hesitation. This place stopped being just his years ago.
“In the kitchen,” he calls out.
I follow the sound of his voice. He’s leaning against the counter when I enter, beer in one hand, a folded newspaper in the other. I arch a brow.
“It reads?”
He snorts and tosses the paper at my chest. “I like to know what kind of world I’m stepping into before I walk outside, asshole.”
I grunt, bypass him for the fridge, grab a beer, and crack it open. The first swallow burns, welcome, grounding.
