Page 24 of Not This Soon

The flickering neon light of the ‘Exit’ sign marked their path to the fire escape stairs - their only way up to Grant’s office on the third floor.

Ethan frowned, his forehead creasing. He took a long sip from his coffee mug.

“So we’re starting with this Grant, guy?”

“Yeah.”

“The others?”

"Ruled out two," Rachel said. "Still keeping uniforms on them, but I don't think it's likely. For one," she held up a finger, "Standish hasn't been on Texas soil for more than a fortnight, stuck on some business trip in Dubai. And two," she held up another finger, "Thorne's been nursing a broken hip at Austin General Hospital for the past three weeks."

Ethan slipped off his sunglasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket. His eyebrows drew together, creasing his forehead withdeep lines. "That leaves Grant as our main guy then. And Morris.”

Rachel nodded, her gaze unwavering.

The old office building loomed before them, its brick facade weathered and stained. Rachel's boots crunched on broken glass as she approached the entrance, Ethan close behind. Yellow caution tape fluttered in the hot breeze, stretching across the doorway like a warning.

"Looks like the foyer's under construction," Ethan said, eyeing the debris.

Rachel's gaze traveled up the side of the building, settling on a rusted fire escape. "Guess we're taking the scenic route."

She grasped the metal railing, the heat searing her palm, and began to climb. The steps groaned beneath their weight, flakes of rust raining down with each footfall. Sweat trickled down Rachel's spine as they ascended, the sun an unrelenting presence.

At the third-floor landing, Rachel paused, her hand resting on the gun at her hip. Voices drifted through the open window, muffled and tense. She exchanged a glance with Ethan, his jaw clenched tight.

With a deep breath, Rachel pushed open the door, the hinges shrieking in protest. The receptionist's desk loomed before them, a hulking man with a shaved head seated behind it. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as they approached.

"Can I help you?" His voice was a low rumble, his tone far from welcoming.

Rachel flashed her badge, the metal cool against her skin. "Texas Rangers. We're here to see Elias Grant."

The man's lips curled into a sneer. "Mr. Grant's not seeing anyone today."

The giant thug in question resembled a brick wall: wide, solid, and unyielding. A poorly shaven jawline jutted outstubbornly, framed by a thick neck that bulged with muscular sinew. He wore an oversized suit that was likely tailored just for him, but it did little to conceal his intimidating form. His dark eyes, buried under bushy eyebrows, glared at them with a cold hostility.

She frowned back at the pitbull in a suit, but Ethan stepped in. He always took the gentler approach. She'd once heard it said one could catch more bees with honey, but in her experience

, bees weren't so easily swayed. She watched as Ethan smiled, his eyes meeting the thug's in a direct challenge.

"We won't take too much of his time," Ethan assured him. "Just a few questions."

The thug wasn't moved. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "Mr. Grant's not seeing anyone today," he repeated stubbornly.

Rachel bit back a sigh, her patience waning quickly. She'd never been fond of the cat-and-mouse game; it was one of the reasons she'd pursued law enforcement rather than politics.

Just then, the door in the back of the foyer banged open.

Two men in suits emerged from the office behind him, their gazes hard and assessing. Rachel felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, a prickle of unease running down her spine. The air crackled with tension, the scent of cigarette smoke and expensive cologne cloying in her nostrils.

"I suggest you make an exception." Rachel's voice was steel, her eyes locked on the receptionist. "Unless you want us to come back with a warrant."

The man's eyes flickered to the men behind him, a silent conversation passing between them. Rachel's hand tightened on her gun, every muscle in her body coiled.

Ethan stepped in front of her, still wearing that warm smile of his. “We don’t need to stay long. Just a few minutes.” His badge was in his hand, displayed for the others to see.

Now the two other men who’d come from the office stepped forward, both frowning.

The receptionist was on his feet.

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