Page 58 of Any Means Necessary

“Are you gonna get that?” Lexie's question is breathless, and I can’t help myself from reclaiming her lips.

“No.” My voice is hoarse with hunger. “I’m busy.” Drinking her in, I bite back a curse when my phone starts ringing again. Letting go of her hair, I snatch the fucking device off the counter to see Roscoe is calling.

Godammit.

“What.” The word holds a threat against his life.

“We’ve got a problem, boss.”

“You’re interrupting, so it better be a fucking big one.”

“Joey Finch is coked up and making threats to start a war with the Russians.” Roscoe’s response has cold contempt creeping into my veins.

Motherfucker.

“Where is he?” My eyes meet Lexie’s and I’m forced to take a step back to regain my focus well enough to hear Roscoe’s response.

“We have him in the warehouse on the docks,” Roscoe informs me, his voice grave. “He’s rabid and demanding more supply.”

“Keep him contained until I get there.”

“On it, boss,” Roscoe confirms. “He didn’t go down easy. He’s bleeding.”

“We’re on our way.” Ending the call, I toss my phone onto the counter with a clatter and lean forward to capture Lexie’s lips, kissing her deeply until she’s panting against me. When I finally relent, I gaze down at her with so much fucking regret I’m sure she can feel it.

“Let me guess,” Lexie breathes. “The moment’s over.” I hate those words coming out of her pretty mouth. This isn’t just a moment, and it’s not over.

Silently staring down at her for a moment, I force myself to focus on the new problem.

Joey fucking Finch.

Chapter Twenty: Lexie

I don’t do well when I’m being rushed. It’s not my best quality, but there’s no getting around it. And Callum has a bad habit of announcing that we need to leave the penthouse with little to no warning. And I’m completely at his mercy. So here we are—in the passenger seat of Callum’s car where I’m tucking the dress I slept in into a pair of scrubs because I didn’t have enough time to actually change. I was lucky to put my bra back on before I was being herded into the elevator.

We crossed over into Brooklyn at some point a while back, and the buildings passing outside the car window are becoming less descript and more industrial. Turning onto side streets, we move further and further from civilization, instead driving through alleys and remote driveways until we slow in front of a large rectangular building.

“Are you really going to make me go in there?” I ask, taking in the monstrosity that looms as our car circles around back. By the size of it, I would guess this used to be a manufacturing plant of some sort. The old concrete structure with broken, boarded up windows really paints the picture of neglect and decay. I’ve seen enough true crime documentaries to know that nothing good happens in abandoned-looking warehouses like this one. And by the state of this building, I wouldn't surprised if it’s haunted too.

“Yes, I am.” He’s clearly not giving me a choice. He taps something into his phone and suddenly there’s movement. One of the old loading bay garage doors starts to roll upwards, and Callum inches closer. .

Once the garage door is lifted high enough to clear the car, we’re pulling forward. Two lights cast a dim glow over the small section where we park, the rest of the building disappearing in ominous shadows. My heart plummets when Callum shifts gears into park and turns off the ignition.

“I hate this place. No one should ever come in here without a death wish,” I inform him, my eyes scanning the darkness like something might jump out at me if I look too long.

“That’s the point,” Callum responds simply. He’s barely glanced at me since our little makeout session in the kitchen. Okay, little isn’t exactly the word for it—not with the heavy petting and whole ice cube thing. I’m trying not to overthink it.

Callum’s shoulders are tense when he exits the car, his expression menacing. The man I was with in the penthouse an hour ago is long gone, leaving me with the Fixer. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head behind those intense hazel eyes of his. He looks formidable.

“What is this place?” My eyes are darting around the ominous building riddled with shadows. The industrial structure and use of steel tells me that this building was once a factory of some kind. But looking at the corrosion and disrepair, it’s definitely no longer in use. At least for the building’s original purpose. Despite the drab depreciation of the original structure; the chipped somber paint, scuffed metal bars, and worn concrete floors, we’re here.

I pause too long near a doorway and a strong hand grasps my arm to lead me forward. Judging by the fact that Callum seems to know his way around, he’s been here before. More than once. There’s a chill in the air that adds to the seriously sinister vibes this place is giving off.

“This building is definitely haunted,” I say looking into an empty office as we pass, fully expecting to see a demon’s face peering back at me.

“Come on, Dewdrop.” Callum’s hold on my wrist tightens ever so slightly as he leads me through the shadowy halls. The fluorescent lighting is only so effective, especially since only every third light is on, allowing darkness to creep in between where the illumination of one light ends and the next begins. I inch closer to his side, doing my best to keep up with his brisque pace. Right now I’m not a big fan of Callum’s habit for secrecy. If this man doesn’t kill me, the suspence definitely will.

“I just want to go on the record and say that I don’t like this part of the job. Walking around in places like this is how you end up the subject in a true crime documentary,” I say. Callum glances down at me, this time actually looking as his lips twitch in amusement.

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