Page 27

With that in mind, I immediately head for the desk. I yank on the top drawer, but to my annoyance, it’s locked. “Goddammit,” I mutter, my eyes scanning the neat desk, hoping that Nico would be stupid enough to leave a key lying around.

Nope. Well, it was worth a try.

The second drawer is unlocked to my delight, but to my despair there’s only pens, a stapler, and a roll of stamps in there.

They’re all perfectly organized and infuriatingly normal. I shut the drawer in irritation and glance again at the surface of the desk.

There’s a notepad sitting by the phone.

I glance at it on my way past and stop.

Someone has scrawled—and scrawled is the right word because holy hell, his handwriting is worse than a doctor’s—two words and underlined them twice.

Call Luca.

Who the hell is Luca?

Whatever, I don’t have time to care.

I move on and lunge toward the filing cabinet.

My heart beats quickly.

I know I’m running out of time so I have to be quick.

The filing cabinet isn’t locked either, and I’m honestly shocked by that.

Either he’s arrogant enough that it never occurred to him someone would dare or this is the one careless spot in an otherwise flawless system.

Knowing what I know about him, my money’s on arrogance.

Heart in my throat, I flip through folders fast, my heart going hard enough that I feel it in my throat.

Shipping manifests. Property deeds.

Blah blah blah.

Nothing I have time to actually read or care about. I shut the first drawer and head to the second one.

Bingo.

There’s a folder of wire transfers, and my hand freezes on it before my brain even catches up with why.

A property tax record.

A parcel upstate, near the Canadian border, some township I’ve never heard of.

The date on it is recent. Very recent.

I don’t have a pen or even my phone, so I read the address twice, close my eyes, and burn it into memory.

I’ve always had a great memory—photographic even—so I know this will stay with me forever.

Got you, asshole.

I’m easing the folder back into the cabinet, my fingers not quite steady, when the back of my neck prickles and I can feel someone’s eyes boring into the back of my head.

I stop breathing.