Page 20 of The Twilight Theft

I swiped my bag of chips from the tray table. “Get some self-control?”

She blew out a small breath and put a hand on my arm. “We’re trying to stop a thief. We’ll look at every angle and figure out how we’d take the chip, but in the end, your instincts are going to be the most important asset we have.”

I tossed a handful of food into my mouth.

Scarlett was playing me, throwing out compliments so I’d agree to pair up with Drew.

Paired up meant posing as dates. How the hell was I going to pose as that man’s date without making a fool out of myself?

Chapter 8

Drew

Isteppedoutofthe elevator into our office Wednesday morning, the SD card in my pocket weighing me down. What was I going to do with the information? Did it matter the British government had lied about what happened to Alex? Could I have expected the same fate if someone found me where I didn’t belong?

Just as well I had no family or close friends to mourn me.

The Bishop and Associates office was in a historic building, with soaring ceilings and semi-flush lighting fixtures. The polished concrete floor contrasted with the warmth of dark wood paneling and doors. We didn’t have a receptionist or a front desk, but controlled access on the stairwell kept unwanted visitors out and the elevator announced every arrival.

“Drew?” Wyatt’s unmistakable Texan accent carried from down the hall. “Is that you?”

The wide hallway led to our boardroom and Craig’s office beyond. Two offices on either side housed the rest of us. Wyatt was also former CIA, Zaria had been a lawyer in New York for under a decade, and Byron was our tech guy who’d left Apple for Google and then for Bishop and Associates.

Rather than head for my office, I detoured into Wyatt’s.

He stood behind his desk, reaching into a drawer, his blue eyes trained on me. “I can trust you, right?”

“That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?”

He eased the drawer shut and locked it, one hand balled up as though he were hiding something. He was a handsome man in his early forties with thick, sandy blond hair and a ready smile, all the readier if a woman walked into the office. Her looks didn’t matter, just her sexual orientation and availability—or willingness to pretend on either account. “And that’s why I know the answer’s yes.”

I stopped behind one of the guest chairs at his desk, placing a hand on the smooth leather.

Wyatt leaned into his Southern background to keep others off guard. He’d told me once the accent made people think he wasn’t as clever as he actually was, which was one more advantage he could use. That extended to the way he decorated his office—artfully worn edges on his furniture and the painting of a cowboy herding cattle behind the desk. He used to wear big belt buckles and bolo ties but had switched last year to a subtle leather cuff bracelet with a longhorn. “Did you get the information you were looking for about your buddy?”

Other than Craig, my co-workers only knew small parts about my investigation into Alex’s death. And the truth was too raw to discuss with them. “Did you need me? The Reynolds Recoveries team will be here soon.”

“I know, I got the meeting invite.” Wyatt rounded the desk and held out his balled-up hand, nodding at mine. When I held mine open, he handed me a small brass key. “Your story about him got me thinking. If something ever happened to me, I wouldn’t want some stranger poking around in my business. I’d want it to be a friend.”

I held up the key, which had no markings on it.

He lowered his voice, the twang all but disappearing. “That’s the backup key to my safe. The only backup.”

A strange offer. “Shouldn’t your executor have this? Or Craig?”

“Maybe.” He patted me on the upper arm. “But for now—”

“Are we bonding, boys?” came Zaria’s smooth voice from behind me.

Wyatt curled my fingers around the key before I turned to see Zaria. “I was trying to get some information about this new job.”

“The event security for Gideon Tremaine?” Despite growing up in the States, her light accent hinted at her Nigerian heritage. She was a hair shorter than Jayce, but her high heels, draped blouse, and pencil skirt made her seem taller. Zaria was our contact with media of all kinds, her musician father providing her with an influence list almost as long as Craig’s.

I nodded, sliding my hands into my suit pant pockets. “Is Craig here?”

“In his office.” Wyatt ushered us toward the hall. “I have a quick call to make before the meeting, so if y’all don’t mind?”

“Did I hear correctly?” Zaria followed me across the hall to my office. “You’re the one who suggested the Reynolds team? Despite…”

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