Page 101 of Defended By Love

With a confident turn, I barge into Reinhold’s office, throwing the doors open (with a bit of extra oomph from Grant, I suspect). I also suspect that he’s responsible for my hair blowing back dramatically in the non-existent wind. I’d like to think that I look like some sort of avenging angel, crashing through the gates of hell to rain down justice.

Although, I guess it doesn’t really matter what I look like, since the office is completely empty.

What a waste of an entrance.

I wander around Reinhold’s office, poking into the odds and ends of his office. There is something so cathartic about snooping. Although, as I get up and close to a painting of soldiers who have appeared to have been vivisected by a bayonet, I second guess that assertion.

I wonder what kind of mood board he gave his decorator—serial killer chic? Modernly murderous? Cottage-gore?

I walk over to where the musket and the painting are, and flip open the painting. Sure enough, there’s a safe behind it. Part of me is a little disappointed. I was expecting either an antique safe or an ultra high-tech one. Maybe one that immediately scanned my eyeballs.

“Hey Grant,” I say, certain that he’s listening. “Since my old pal isn’t around, how about you go ahead and rip off the door to this safe.”

Wisely, I step to the side just before the cover rips off with an ear-splitting crack. The sound is followed almost instantaneously by a blaring alarm that screeches through the office.

It takes every part of my experience under pressure to take a deep breath and not care. Let the alarm ring. Let the people come. That’s exactly what I want.

In the meantime, I take out the very ordinary brown envelope and take it to Reinhold’s desk. With my feet on his desk, I try to settle into his supremely uncomfortable chair.

What is it with lawyers and uncomfortable chairs?

Every single piece of furniture in Grant’s house is supremely comfortable. I could take a nap on his ottoman if I wanted to.

Not that Reinhold’s choice of furniture is what’s important here. What’s important is what’s in this envelope. What was so important that he put it behind a safe? That could make him blanch at the thought of someone reading it?

Unfortunately, I don’t get the time to find out.

“Who are you and how did you get into my office?” From the doorway, Reinhold stares me down with a reddened face and ragged breath. I’m guessing he ran all the way up here.

I’m also guessing that his evil doings don’t leave a lot of time for cardio, based on how heavily he’s breathing.

Not really helping with his whole aloof psychopath persona he goes for. No, right now, he’s striking me more of a ‘weird uncle who accidentally found himself in the middle of a 5k race and couldn’t figure out how to get off the course’ feel.

Behind him are the same beefy guards who advanced on me yesterday/today. They look tired, but still menacing. Clearly, they hit the company gym more than Reinhold does.

“No,” I say simply, sliding the documents out of the folder from his safe.

It’s a thick report. The cover page bears only the words: The Jump Ahead.

“N-no what?” he sputters back.

Exasperated, I sigh. “The whole back-and-forth question exchange for the upper hand. We’ve been there. Done that. Spoilers: I come out on top.”

Reinhold opens and closes his mouth, sputtering like a fish out of water. Remember when I thought he was intimidating?

“Who are you?” he repeats.

I roll my eyes. Some people just can’t get out of their old habits.

“I’m Hailey Cox. I work for Felton & Nichols. You would know that if you had bothered to do more than a cursory background investigation on Dominic before bringing him in on your scheme to blow up a building.” I stop and give him the same look my mom gave me when she found me pre-reading for my college classes during my sweet sixteen party. “I know it’s not really my place, but I’m disappointed in your lack of thoroughness.”

“Felton & Nichols…” Reinhold hems the words over.

“The company that started investigating yours after the reports of environmental pollution, so you blew up our office? Yes, that’s us.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

Seriously? This guy and his questions. I’ll have to double check the information I gathered on him, but I’m relatively certain his parents were a sphinx and the Riddler.

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