I yank my fingers through my dark hair. Normally, I’m better at keeping my composure, but this day is fucking with me.
Before I can give away any more signs that Ezra is effectively clawing his way under my skin, I turn and shut the office door.
Lock it.
Storm away.
I can’t keep him in an office much longer, but I’ll wait for Alaric to report back on his findings to decide where to move him.
In the meantime, I text Rev to check on Ezra’s friend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EZRA
Acorner office in a high-rise building isn’t the worst place I’ve been forced to sleep. Actually, it might be the safest. Which is saying a lot, considering Cain, or Rev, could barge in here any minute and decide to play operation with my organs.
I lie down on the floor beneath the desk. The windows are chilled from the winter air, but the room itself is warm, and the carpet is soft beneath me. Plus, there’s a ton of the city to take in from this height, all symmetrical lines and architectural beauty challenging gravity.
My stomach growls in protest, but I’m used to ignoring that particular signal. Curled up, I let my thoughts turn to Jakey, hoping he’s safe. Gabriel wouldn’t be expecting me back this soon, right?
I should have made Rev promise that Jakey would be protected. Instead, I’d been too caught up in helping him research Gabriel while shoving tacos in my mouth.
Unrest stirs up in my bones, and I sink my fingers deep into the fibers of the carpet. I really don’t want to lose my friend. My life has nevermattered, but Jakey… he’s something special. He carries such an envious light. Mine was extinguished long ago by the people who were obligated to care for me.
I suppose Jakey’s been messed up by people, too, what with his previous tendency to dip into bad substances. At least he can’t remember most of those troubling memories. I still go to war against mine every time I drift off to sleep or get too overcome with unexplainable energy.
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at winning that fight. I’m good at convincing myself that I’m just experiencing nightmares.
But when I lose…those are the nights I wake up in a cold sweat with my heart racing, convinced I never got out of that basement.
My throat tightens, and I sense that all-consuming panic slithering toward me. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to go away. Sometimes it feels like a living entity. Acknowledging its existence gives it more power over me.
I lurch up to my feet and pace the room. The streets allow me an outlet for this excessive need to move. Trapped in here, I fear what my mind is going to do to me.
Scrounging through the desk, I find nothing but some old newspapers, trash bags, and more loose paper clips. I scoop them up and begin winding them together into some sort of lock pick.
Then I sit in front of the interior window until I confirm that Cain has left for the day, a shiny metal briefcase in his hand. I lift a hand to mock-wave at him, but he doesn’t look my way.
It’s not hard to see how tightly wound Cain Vincent is. Aggression bubbles just beneath his surface, barely contained. I wonder what could have filled him with such rage.
More overhead lights shut off. I make my move, working the paperclips into the lock on the door. Freed from my corporate prison, I do aquick walk around the office floor, scoping for cameras. Two by the glass doors to the elevator, which really limits my options. No doubt the hard drive has been moved from the lower levels by now.
Still, the chaos unfurling inside of me needs a fucking distraction. Dropping into a chair in one of the cubicles with a puppy calendar hung on the wall, I rifle through drawers. I let out a low whistle and prop my legs up on the desk as I scan through documents.
Sinro Enterprises has some interesting paper trails. High-dollar purchases for military-grade weapons, armored vehicles, passports, and plane tickets. I’m beginning to think they lean more toward taking people out rather than protecting the average politician or celebrity.
Do they work for the government? Special Forces hidden under the guise of a consulting business? Considering Cain’s skill and his unique staff, it’s a valid possibility.
I can’t leave it a great big mystery. Hands on an invisible string, I keep tugging and tugging, seeking answers to curb my anxiety. I dart from desk-to-desk in a frenzy, sorting through everything I can get my hands on like an auditor with a chip on his shoulder.
Some desks have paperwork on local companies to help secure their assets and keep their employees safe. There are plenty of summaries for upgraded software packages, cyber protection, and fine-tuning building security.
Other desks, well… they have coded lists that confirm my suspicion about Sinro’s true activities. The beating heart of its operations.
I raid the break room next. Nothing’s safe from my manic investigation. I find Steve’s green lunchbox in the back of the fridge with an untouched peanut butter sandwich and a pudding cup. I devour both.
“Sorry, Steve,” I mumble, shoving the empty lunchbox back in the fridge. Immediately after I close the fridge door, I reopen it and decide to clean the interior until it’s spotless.
