I’m sure I look daft, head tilted up and jaw hanging open, but the reality of where I’m standing, in one of the wealthiest buildings in East Bank, hits me square in the chest.
My gaze drops to the line of metal detectors and half a dozen men and women with tactical vests sporting weapons. Impatient employees crowd around them to swipe their badges and haul ass to work.
God, I hope my lack of a solid plan works out.
“Sir, can I help you?” the receptionist, an older Black woman, calls out.
Shit. Mistake number one, Ezra. Lingering too long.
“Um, yeah. I have a meeting with Cain Vincent.” Uncertainty bleeds into my tone. Does anyone actually request the CEO of a company?
The receptionist looks me over. Should I have stolen a full-on suit instead? I know my hair needs to be cut, but with criminals breathing down my neck, I’m feeling a little rushed for time.
She pops her gum. “Name?”
I peek over at her partner’s computer screen and spit out the first name I see listed there. “Brian Richards.”
This is so stupid. So incredibly stupid.
But really, all I need to do is get past their line of security and locate some sort of data room. Architectural plans online showed another set of elevators along the west end of the building. I’d also memorized stairwells and emergency exits.
And if the drive wasn’t stored with their data? Well, I’d just have to get creative…
The receptionist spins her chair to reach for her phone, and I break away from her desk. My hand dips into my pocket to grab the badge I’d stolen from an employee on the way in. A bump against his shoulder, and I’d snatched it right out of his pocket.
Sweat beads along the back of my neck as I scan the badge on a pad at the beginning of the security line. It blinks green, and I hurry through one of the metal detectors under the scrutiny of two armed guards. Noneed to remove anything on my body. Might be stupid for me not to carry weapons, but I’m better trained with my hands and feet than with a gun or a knife.
I give the guards a nod of respect, trying to keep my movements fluid like I belong here, though my heart is slamming against my ribs. Any fricken second and the receptionist is gonna call me out.
The guards wave me forward, and I break into a fast walk toward the back elevators.
“Meetings,” I mumble when a few employees glance my way. “Meetings all damn day.”
My badge scans green on the pad by the elevator doors, and I dart inside.Hey, maybe this hair-brained strategy is gonna work out.
As I’m looking over too many buttons, a hand snaps between the closing elevator doors. My blood pressure skyrockets, expecting more guns pointed at my head any second.
A suited man with tamed black curls and a cruel expression steps on, followed by a woman with a tall frame and pin-straight, platinum blonde hair. I scoot to make room for them, shoving down the urge to reach out and touch the woman’s magical hair.
My impulses sometimes, I swear.
“What floor?” the man asks, turning his gaze to me. My eyes dip to his hand hovering over the buttons, inked with tiny, intricate bone tattoos.
Why do these business people look like they could rip me apart?
“Oh, uh… Sorry, I’m a bit nervous. Here for an interview. The receptionist told me where I’m supposed to go, but I may have forgotten…”
My cheeks burn red-hot. Was it too much? I’m not great with pretend games.
“Ah.” The guy turns away. “You’ll want thirteen then. Gwen will get you straightened out.”
He presses the button for me, and we fall into a strange silence. I tap my fingers anxiously on my thighs. Is there a code against talking in elevators? I fight the urge to loosen the tie constricting my neck. I spent nearly an hour figuring out how to tie it. No way I’m messing it up.
I have no interest in meeting Gwen on the thirteenth floor, assured Sinro Enterprises isn’t going to store the drive in an easily accessible place, but I need to blend in.
Tattoo guy steps off on floor twelve. Platinum lady, who looks like she might be an angel of death, is headed for eighteen. Which means I’m forced to exit when the doors open once more.
I give her a shy smile and step off, quickly clipping the stolen employee badge on my shirt pocket backwards so no one can accuse me of wearing the wrong face and name.
