Page 117 of Veil of Lies

I hustled over to the small kitchenette and poured a coffee for him, adding some sugar to give him energy. I’d been where he was right now, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Serves you right for necking so many cocktails,” Brax pointed out as Quinn collapsed onto the sofa and gave a good impression of someone on the verge of imminent death.

“You’re right. Never again. Next time Harley taunts me into joining his drinking game, please fucking shoot me. A quick death is preferable to this hell.”

Brax rolled his eyes. “I’ll order room service. Some carbs will help.” He turned to me. “Go wake sleeping beauty and tell him bacon and pancakes are incoming.”

Chapter 89

Stella

The woman behind the desk at the Wells Fargo branch where my safe deposit box was allegedly stored had an attitude problem. I’d been standing here for ten minutes already, no closer to accessing my box.

She passed my passport back to me and scowled. “I’ll need proof of address.”

For the fourth time in as many minutes, I explained, “I’m at college. That’s my address. You can call the college and confirm this?”

“I need a utility bill or a bank statement.” She tapped her acrylic nails on the counter and stared over my shoulder with a bored expression.

Jesus Christ.

This woman was a goddamn nightmare. At this rate, I’d never access the fucking box.

“Perhaps I can speak to your supervisor,” I asked, trying really hard to be polite. We’d come a long way, I had a headache, and so far, at least two people had tried to kill me. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. I was also sexually frustrated after sharing a bed with two hot-as-fuck guys who were too drunk to have sex. Fuck my life.

“Is there a problem, Miss Compton?” A gray-haired guy with a smooth smile sidled over. He checked me out and his smile widened. The metal name badge told me this was Clint, the manager.

Miss Compton, or Mavis, as her badge informed me, shuffled uncomfortably on her plastic chair.

“No, Mr. Hunt,” she stammered, “The customer doesn’t have proof of address so I can’t let her access her safe deposit box. It’s protocol.”

Clint’s smile faded while he considered my predicament. He scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. Meanwhile, customers wandered in and out of the bank’s main lobby, searching for ATMs, help with loans, and to beg the bank not to foreclose on their home.

Outside, rain began to fall, forcing umbrellas up and pavement cafes to pull down their awnings. I silently wished I’d worn a jacket and that Clint would hurry the fuck up and make a decision.

If this was a bust, then fuck it, I’d go and consume my body weight in cupcakes from the coffee shop where the boys were hanging out.

“I assume the customer has a photo ID and a social security number?” Clint said eventually, offering me a warm smile that promised I was important.

Mavis nodded, somewhat reluctantly. My feminine intuition told me she wasn’t a fan, although I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like we’d ever met before.

“Then it’s fine. Miss…?”

“Blake.”

“Miss Compton, please print off the customer’s box details. Miss Blake, let me show you down to the lower level where the safe deposit boxes are kept.”

We waited for a scowling Mavis to print off my box number and then Clint escorted me into an elevator and pressed a button. The doors closed and we descended.

“I can only apologize for my colleague’s inexperience, Miss Blake. She’s relatively new here, so she’s not familiar with our procedures.”

“Not a problem.” I smiled. The guy was a creep and the way he subtly moved closer while talking to me told me all I needed to know. Thankfully the trip downstairs was short and in no time at all, I waited in a small room while a member of staff retrieved my box.

“When you are ready to leave, please press that buzzer, and a colleague will escort you back to the main lobby,” Clint said with one of his trademark creepy smiles.

“Thanks, Clint,” I offered. And I genuinely meant it. The guy was a douche, but he’d saved me from Mavis the Bulldog.

“My pleasure.” Clint’s beady little eyes slithered down my chest for a brief moment before we were interrupted by a guy holding a small metal box.

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