Page 6 of The Masked King

He chuckles. “I knew there was a reason why I like you.”

“With all due respect, sir, liking me won’t get me to where I want to be.”

He picks up a pen from his desk and clicks the lid absentmindedly. Maybe he hasn’t made up his mind yet, and this conversation is a test to determine whether he offers me a role within his new team.

“Where do you want to be?”

“Sitting right there in your seat.” I give him a small smile; my mouth is too dry for it to go anywhere. I don’t know why, but this feels like a turning point, a pivotal moment in my life, like my entire future hangs on his decision. “Not literally, of course,” I add.

“Of course. You have ambition, Demi. I like that about you.”

He doesn’t add that a woman having ambition in a male dominated environment is often mistaken for attitude and subsequently overlooked.

“Does this mean that you’ve considered my application?”

His seat propels him forward, jogging the cup of cooling coffee on the desktop, and splashing the papers closest to it. DI Robert Goss doesn’t seem to notice.

“How would you feel about doing some undercover work for my new team?”

New team. A thrill travels down my spine and settles in my gut.

I spent six months in the UK after I left Enzo. I had some waitressing jobs, did some bar work, moved around from city to city staying in hostels that mostly accommodated students and backpackers. No one asked questions. No one inspected my ID too closely. It gave me space to breathe, to remember what had encouraged me to join the NYPD in the first place.

It sounds like a cliché thinking that it gave me a chance to find myself again. But that’s exactly what happened. When I stopped being Enzo’s girlfriend, Demi Payne raised her hand and got some attention again.

“I’d love it.” I try to contain my smile, but it’s right there, shining across the desk at my boss.

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

I peer up at the street sign for the fifth time.

I don’t know this area well, it isn’t the kind of area I’d expect to find the exclusive club where I’ll be working, if I get the job, but this is the address DI Goss gave me. Only I can’t find the building I’m looking for.

I check the time on my cell phone. I got here early because he warned me not to be late, and now, after trawling the entire street back and forth searching for number 746, I have seven minutes to spare.

Seven minutes to introduce myself, mentally run through the new identity I’ve been given, and pray that my cheeks stop glowing and that my deodorant is doing its job.

I take my time, reading the house numbers out loud as I walk. “Four-hundred-sixty-four. Four-hundred-seventy-two.” I dart across the road between the traffic and start counting down from eleven hundred.

“What the actual fuck.” The seven hundreds should be at the far end of the street, but I’ve checked every building, and there is no 746. I couldn’t even locate it on my cell GPS.

I’m about to spring into last resort mode and call the DI, when a door opens on the opposite side of the street, and a young woman steps out. She clutches her purse tightly to her shoulder as if she’s been robbed too many times to let go of it, and walks away, head down, her heels tip-tapping across the sidewalk.

But I don’t follow her progress.

I’ve spotted a sign in the foyer behind the door she exited through. It’s small enough to be missed from the outside, but the numbers clearly say 746.

I wait for a gap in the traffic, wishing everyone in the city would take a day off and walk instead, and sprint back across the road. The number on the outside of the building is 476. No wonder I couldn’t find it; it’s a play on numbers, like a secret code, crack the puzzle and you’re in.

I press the buzzer, checking my phone again. Three minutes to spare. DI Goss would be giving birth to kittens right now if he knew how close to the wire I was. My first job with his new unit and I’ve already almost blown it.

Once inside, I realize that 746 is above a small archway entrance with a reinforced door.

There’s another buzzer on the side of the archway. When I press it, it reaches the other end but no one speaks.

“Hello, I’m⁠—”