“No. I’m sure you meant to rob us and go, not get caught.” There was something thin as a razor in Simon’s voice. It made Jacob flinch. He felt an odd ache in his stomach that wasn’t exactly fear or exertion. Whatever it was, it wasn’t useful.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But I meant, you… and me.”
The door jolted against Jacob’s shoulder and made him flinch.
“You lying little fucker.” There was the thump of a fist hitting the door. “There’s nowhere to go. Come out, stay in. It’s not going to change anything.”
Jacob wedged the screwdriver that bit farther in and scrambled to his feet. He still couldn’t breathe, and there was a stitch cutting into his ribs. Fuck, he really needed to start working out.
“Good to know.”
He could hear Simon on the phone outside, snarling orders and demanding answers. While he was busy doing that, Jacob stripped out of his boiler suit. Simon was probably right. After all if anyone knew the security weakness of the building, or lack thereof, it would be the security consultant.
Shit.
As he dropped into a squat and worn denim stretched over his knees, Jacob shoved his hands into his hair and tried to think. There was a freight elevator shaft behind the wall of the closet. If he had a crowbar, he could pull the bricks out of the wall, crawl through, and… fall to his death, probably. He wasn’t Tom Cruise.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Jacob clenched his fist in his hair as though he could pull an idea out of his head through his scalp. Why did everythingalwaysgo wrong for him?
Outside he heard Simon yell at someone to “get a goddamn Masterkey to breach the door if you need it.” Jacob lifted his head and bit his lower lip. It wasn’t necessarily agoodidea,but it was the only one he had, and there wasn’t time to wait for inspiration.
He gave himself a second and squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for some—for any—other idea.
His phone was still lying where he’d dropped it as he fell through the door. He picked it up, wiped the dust on his sleeve, and tapped the screen with his thumb. It rang twice, and then the operator picked up.
“Hello, could you please state the nature of your emergency,” a light, faintly accented voice—Wisconsin, Jacob guessed—said.
“I… look… this is embarrassing,” Jacob muttered. He shifted away from the door to mute his voice. “I’ve had an argument with my boyfriend, and he’sreallyangry. I’ve locked myself in an office and….”
He didn’t deliberately put the accent on. He just picked up the inflections as she dropped them. Instinct or habit.
“We’re at work.” He answered the operator’s questions quickly. At the same time, he’d pulled the code breaker out of his pocket, tore it apart, and ground the pieces underfoot. The waste made him twitch. “In Syntech. It’s just off Beagle Road? He found out I lied to him about something, and I’ve never seen him like this.”
Outside the door Simon hammered against the metal and cursed flatly. The operator murmured reassuringly and promised they’d be there soon. Jacob hung up on her, called his lawyer, and sat down on the floor with his back against the boast wall that butted onto the elevator shaft.
Leaning his head back against the dusty plaster, he listened to the ringtone and the bang of Simon’s fist on the door. It had beenonestupid decision in the middle of a well-planned job, and look where it got him. The minute it started to get tangled, he should have ditched.
Too cocky for that, or too greedy, and look what it got him.
Someone lifted the phone and mumbled something down the line.
“Hey, Allison,” Jacob said. “I might need you to get me out of jail. In about half an hour.”
Chapter Two
TWO POLICEofficers walked Jacob off Syntech property to a waiting taxi. Apparently, without evidence of wrongdoing, that was the most they could do. Simon stood in the window of his office, jaw clenched until his skull ached, and watched through the smoked glass as they crossed the carpark.
At the fence the blonde policewoman handed over Jacob’s shabby, searched backpack and said something to him. Then she and her partner turned and headed back toward the building. Left on the property line, Jacob hitched his bag over his shoulder and looked up at the window. Simon had never brought him there, but apparently Jacob did better background checks than he did.
After a second, Jacob shrugged one shoulder and got into the taxi.
Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket, flicked it on, and speed dialed the security team.
“Murtagh? Keep a detail on him,” he said. “I want to know where he goes, who he speaks to, and for how long. I don’t want him without eyes on him from now until I tell you different.”
He got a grunt in answer, and then Murtagh hung up. The taxi pulled away from the curb, and five minutes later, a Toyota pulled out of a nearby street and fell in behind them.
Simon dropped the phone back in his pocket.
