The cursor simply blinked as both Obsidian and I glared at the screen.
"Type something," I nudged her.
"Fuck that, it’s your show, you do it."
Our attention went back to the screen as yet another message came through.
Are you willing to play a game, Duchess?
Duchess was how I signed off on transactions in the black market. No one really knew that name unless you were doing business with the Turks.
I yanked the computer toward me and proceeded to respond. "Does it have anything to do with Lazarus' game?"
Three dots appeared and the tension in the room was heavy as we waited for a response. I referenced Alan’s obsession with Lazarus hoping for a bite.
I see you've been researching.
"And I'm assuming you've done your own research since you know my name.”
I also know what you look like, beautiful.
I stared at Obsidian, and she yanked the laptop away from me. “Fuck, he can see us!”
“How?”
“The damn laptop has a camera.” She covered the lens and turned to me angrily. “Listen, Sis, I have no time for this. What the hell is Lazarus’ Game?”
I hesitated and she narrowed her eyes on me. “Talk or this relationship ends here."
“Alan used to talk about it. He was obsessed with the story of Lazarus rising from the dead. He’d reference it constantly so I mentioned it as bait.”
We both stared at the screen and Obsidian began to bite her nails. “Looks like he fell for it.”
I see you have a beautiful assistant as well.
…
You’re not easy to find, Black Obsidian.
“How the fuck do they know who I am?” She murmured, staring at the screen, looking entirely frightened.
You have something I want.
The messages continued to come in.
"And I presume you want it back?" I responded.
Precisely.
“How?”
All I want is for the shipment to be handled with care. Just like Lazarus has done for me in the past. I’ve got the clients waiting to get paid on their investments. All you have to do is find a buyer and get me the profit.
“I’m not Lazarus.”
“Whois Lazarus?” Elizabeth whispered to me.
“It’s Alan.” My fingertips hovered over the keyboard.
