Breaking eye contact, he swallows. “Most people don’t.”
My desk phone rings before I can craft a response to that. Not wanting an audience for this call, I grip Ezra’s arm and haul him back to the corner office. I give him one more hard look. “You will wait for me here until I figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with you. Do you understand?”
Ezra saunters over to the desk and plops down on it in dramatic fashion. “Just don’t leave me too long, please. I get antsy.”
His admission brings another pain like heartburn to my chest. I slam the door, lock it, and head back into my office to hit redial on the most recent missed call.
“Alaric,” I say forcefully.
“Yeah. I can’t find a single piece of information on this thief, Cain. I swear he doesn’t exist,” Alaric says, his tired voice cracking in frustration. I’m starting to think I should force him to take some time off.
“How can that be?”
“No matches with any Ezra’s that live in the city. No other name he could go by that would fit his profile. No birth records anywhere close to his assumed age range. No arrests. No ties to Gabriel or any organization we’ve taken down or gathered intel on. Nothing in government files I skimmed through, either. It’s like he’s been purged from the system.”
I drop into my chair as my composure begins to unravel. “I need you to keep digging.”
“Of course I’m going to keep digging. It’s like you don’t even know me.”
I rub at my brows. Sometimes, it’s hard fighting the urge to father Alaric. No one expects him to work around the clock. I’d rather he take care of himself. But he does whatever he wants, so I don’t waste my breath on lectures.
“While we’re on the phone, any updates on the drive?” I ask.
“The drive is encrypted with a 32-character password. Somethingthatprotected has to be important.”
“So what, you need a few more days?”
Again, another pause and the rapid firing of computer keys. “You have too much faith in me. Fastest solution would be to find one of Gabriel’s guys and force him to talk. Someone higher up.”
I hang up on him, more irked by the lack of knowledge on Ezra than the hard drive issue.
Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I try to piece together what I’ve observed of Ezra’s behavior. His cockiness yesterday would have fooled me into believing he was a street thug, desperate to prove himself. But his concern for his friend and the vulnerability he’s showing me now have me questioning everything.
I march for the corner office, finding Ezra perched on the desk, crafting snowflakes out of scavenged paper clips. Realizing I’ve just been staring at him from the doorway, I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my brain since I learned that he snuck out of the corner office. “Did you come into my apartment last night?”
His eyes shoot wide. “What? No. I didn’t leave the building, I swear. I don’t even know where you live.”
My nostrils flare, but I give a tiny nod. “Okay, Ezra.”
Walking over to the desk, I wrap a hand around his wrist and pull him to his feet, being more delicate this time. Fuck this irritating prickle of concern. I want to turn him inside out. Learn all of his secrets. Check him for internal wounds.
Guiding him into the elevator, I disregard the confused look I receive from Gwen. I press the button for my apartment floor. This better not be a huge mistake.
“What are we—”
“Shut up,” I say. “Just… shut the fuck up.”
He purses his lips. “It’s a caffeine headache, isn’t it?”
My gaze snaps to him, but he appears genuinely upset.Jesus Christ. Is this what whiplash feels like? A concussion? A hemorrhaging in my brain? Maybe I should go to the doctor and get a check-up.
The elevator doors open, and I usher him into my apartment, watching for a giveaway in his features that he was lying about sneaking into my private space last night.
Ezra takes in the clean lines of my minimalist, sleek apartment in awe. “Woah. This might be the nicest place I’ve ever seen.”
The comment pisses me off. I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at his situation. If he’s been truthful with us, how long has he been out on the streets? Does he have a safe place to stay? Does he sleep in shelters like his friend? He’s definitely lean enough for me to be concerned that he’s getting enough to eat.
Ever the CEO, I bark out orders. “You will stay here. You will not leave this building for your own safety. Go ahead and snoop all you want. You’ll find nothing of interest here.”
