Page 64 of Winning Bid

But I shake my head, still skimming my hands around. “No, Andre likes to keep things compartmentalized. This is business stuff, so I think that business stays here.” Then I feel a latch. I give it a pull, and all the drawers open. “Are you fucking kidding me? That's not secure.”

“Maybe he loses his keys a lot and needs a backup system. Who cares? Start looking.”

“Not yet.” I point my phone at Andre’s organizational setup and start clicking.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to be able to pack everything back in the way that he had it.”

“Oh. Good idea.”

After I get enough pictures, we dig through the files and find them right off the bat. “This is it right here. All the shit that I gathered for him. He wanted everything in original hard copy and no other copies made.”

“Makes sense. If it's not digital, it's harder to find. Where's the copy room on this floor?”

“I'm not taking that chance. I downloaded a document scanner on the way here.” And with that, I whip out my phone and scan all the documents, front and back. I’m not taking any chances that Elliot could whine about the documents not being real. Afterward, I photograph them on Andre's desk. I will give him no excuse to say that we lied about this.

I tell Anderson, “All right, that's everything. Let's pack this up and go.” We tuck away everything just as we found it according to the pictures I took before. In some ways, this has felt almost too easy. Our luck has never held out for this long. Before I open the door, I click off the light. “How soon do you think Andre will know? That it was me, I mean.”

“He may never know.” But by his tone, I can tell he doesn't believe that either. For now, I'll let the pleasant fiction slide. We might be lying to ourselves, but I'll take it.

Just as I turn the door lever, we hear a sound in the hall. Squeaky wheels.

I whisper, “Cleaning crew.”

“Do they come in here?”

I don't bother to answer. The squeaking is too close. I grab his hand and race to the nearest door. There are three off of Andre’s office. One is to his private bathroom, but I don’t know what the other two are. Fearing the crew may be here to also clean the bathroom, I pick one of the other doors. It happens to be a utility closet.

Anderson closes the door behind us, and silently, we listen. The office light clicks on, shining around the doorframe. But it’s not enough light for us to see much inside the closet. After a minute, I realize whoever it is isn't snooping around. We hear the wheels squeak, and then they go silent for a minute, like the person is cleaning. They're not looking for us. They’re just doing their job.

I whisper, “We’ll wait a few minutes and then go out there.”

“I guess we kind of blew the whole ‘hey, we're just innocently here for forgotten documents’ thing when we decided to hide.”

I snort a laugh. It was a stupid move on my part, but instinct took over. It couldn’t be helped. Still, I can laugh at myself for it. “You think?”

“We are not cut out for a life of crime.”

I shake my head, smiling. The utility closet is bigger than I had expected. Maybe ten by ten. There’re all sorts of equipment in here, and I can't see them because I refuse to turn on the light. But when I flash my phone over them, it's mostly wooden boxes and miscellaneous storage. Odd that Andre would have this kind of storage attached to his office. He’s so meticulous … “

Maybe there’s more in here than meets the eye. But no matter how curious I am, I’m not here to explore. Besides, exploring makes noise that we cannot afford, so I leave the crates alone and concentrate on listening for the cleaning crew to leave. I leave my phone on a shelf so we can kind of see, and it doesn’t shine around the doorframe for them to spot us.

Anderson murmurs in my ear, “Well, if we're going to get caught, then maybe we should get caught for a different reason.”

“What are you talking about?—"

He presses me against the cabinet and kisses me, stealing my breath away. A shiver rushes through me, forcing out a gasp. Parting my lips, I let him in. I know this is stupid. We’re as likely to get caught making too much noise as we are for being in the wrong place, but after everything we’ve been through, I need this. I need him.

Alarm bells go off in my mind as I reach for him over his pants. He lets out a hiss of need, grinding into my hand while we kiss harder. He’s already a rock for me. I can’t tell if it’s a fear boner or if he’s feeling as needy as I am. The heat in my body is impossible to ignore.

Anderson unties my trench coat belt and unbuttons my blouse, leaving me exposed. He growls in my ear, “This is one of my favorite bras.”

“The lace?”

“The front clip.” He unhooks it, and my breasts spring free. His mouth is on my nipples, nibbling and teasing me. I can’t believe we’re doing this here and now, and part of me is into it. The fear. The rush. We’ve faced countless dangers together. This one is entirely different. This is a danger we’re choosing.

That cleaning crew could walk in here at any moment. Better make them count.

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