Page 25 of Not This Soon

All three of them looked like linebackers.

The one in the center, a man whose nose had been broken and badly set enough times to look like a twisted root vegetable, snarled. "You got no cause, no warrant."

Rachel didn't blink as she pulled her focus back to the receptionist. "Do we need to discuss this with your boss directly?" Her voice was still cool, still steady.

The two goons exchanged glances before the stony-faced one growled, his voice as rough as gravel under tire. "The boss ain't here."

Rachel's eyes darted towards the back door from where they'd appeared.

"You expect us to believe that?"

Ethan spoke again, his tone smooth, attempting to keep the situation from escalating further. "Look, we just want to ask a few questions. We'll be out of your hair in no time."

But Rachel wasn't convinced by their stonewalling. She bulldozed past Ethan and straight towards the guarded office door. One of the brutes moved to intercept her, but Ethan, faster and more agile than his size suggested, stepped between them.

"Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be," he said.

Three suited gorillas tried to intervene, all of them wearing scowls as dark as their charcoal suits. Each of them approached, tense and muscled. Rachel noticed one of them reach into their jacket, their hand disappearing out of sight.

“Hey!” she barked suddenly.

Before anyone could react, she drew her weapon faster than the blink of an eye.

Ethan shouted something incoherent.

The man reaching into his jacket pocket tensed, his eyes narrowed.

“Hey, hey,” said the biggest of the group. The man with the misshapen nose. He raised his hands, palms out. "No need for that."

Rachel's finger rested lightly on the trigger, her aim steady. "Move away from the door."

The men exchanged glances before slowly stepping to the side, their movements deliberate and measured. Rachel's gaze flicked to Ethan, her message clear. He nodded, reaching for his own weapon as he took a step forward.

"You won't find anything," Broken Nose warned, his voice gruff. "You're wasting your time."

Ignoring him, Ethan kept his weapon trained on the thugs. He tutted his tongue and nodded at the man who was still withdrawing his hand from his pocket. “Careful,” Ethan warned.

The three men all glared at where Ethan stood sentry, gesturing them to the side. The suited men with their slick hair stepped slowly to the side, and Rachel actually heard the sound ofclinkingmetal from where golden chains shifted on hairy chests under pale t-shirts.

But she ignored all of this. Cautiously, she approached the door and rapped her knuckles against the polished wood. It was eerily silent on the other side.

"We're coming in," she said, loud enough to carry through the door. No response. She glanced back at Ethan, her gaze steady.

He gave a nod, his gun trained on the men still. With one swift motion, Rachel pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

The office was vast and grandiose, with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a panoramic view of downtown Texas. An oversized mahogany desk dominated the space, flanked bymultiple shelves laden with expensive memorabilia; awards, trinkets, and assortments of high-end liquor.

In stark contrast to the commotion outside, it was eerily quiet. The air was stale with an unplaceable musk she recognized from too many years on the job: fear.

There was no one inside. A chrome-plated laptop sat closed on the desk, and a stack of documents lay in neat piles alongside it. An expensive-looking leather chair was positioned behind the desk, its back facing them.

"Mr Grant?" Rachel called out, her voice echoing in the silence. She rounded around to face the chair while Ethan stayed by the door, scanning their surroundings.

Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the chair and swung it around.

Empty.

There was no sign of Elias Grant—just another empty room that smelled heavily of cigars with a hint of something stronger: whiskey, perhaps.

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