Page 37 of The Shadows We Keep

“Don’t do anything.” Her tone is serious. It’s cute. I smirk at her, about to agree, knowing full well I have no intention of heeding her warnings.

“Harkin, I’m serious. You don’t know.”

What the hell does that mean? “Don’t know what, little one?”

Her hands drop to my shoulders, but her eyes wander to a spot behind me.

“Keira?”

“Who owns this building. You just shouldn’t intervene; I can handle him. Trust me, I’ve been doing it for months.”

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” I promise her and drop a kiss to her nose. My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I check the time on my watch, realizing how late I am. I tighten my hold under her knees and stand, bringing her with me.

“I have to go, sweetness.” She leans forward, fusing her lips to mine. A deep groan builds in my throat, but I pull away and slide her body down from my hold. I’ve had this meeting set up for weeks, otherwise I’d blow it off in a heartbeat to stay here with her. I pull her with me to the front door.

“Lock it behind me.”

Her eyes roll at my request. “I’ve lived by myself for a long time, Harkin. I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Humor me.” I drop one last quick kiss to her lips and head down the hall.

* * *

The afternoon sunshuts out of the room completely as soon as the door swings closed. The dark wooden oval meeting table takes up the entire small room. Two men I’ve never met before sit at one end, a mound of paperwork spread in front of them. Their whispered conversation halts when my hands press against the smooth wood table.

“Gentlemen, I’m here. How can I help you?”

The older man on the right clears his throat and sifts through the papers until he finds the one he’s looking for. He slides it down in my direction. I scan it quickly and look back up at the pair of them.

The younger man, probably a couple years older than me, pulls a pack of smokes from his jacket. He’s watching me, waiting for something while he packs the nicotine unnecessarily before pulling one free and lighting up.

“What do you want me to do with these?” I ask.

The paper has rows and rows of what looked like bank account numbers.

“I’m not an accountant. I’m not sure where you got my card, but that’s not the type of work I do.” Dropping the paper to the table, I swing around to leave, coming face-to-face with a man who looks like he might’ve had a former career in the W.W.E. The slide of a gun cocking sounds behind me.

“Sit, Mr. Greyson.” The thick Italian accent rolls over my name and the hairs on the back of my neck prick. The giant in front of me nods back to the table, reaching around me to pull out the chair before shoving me back down.

“You must have me confused with someone else.” I hope he takes the bait, there’s something about them that screams don’t take the job. It’s probably the Corleone vibes they’re throwing off.

“Well, that’s not exactly all you can do now, is it, Harkin?” The younger man asks. The gun sits on the table in front of him, his finger resting precariously on the trigger.

“Look at that paper in front of you again. Those numbers are accounts—which I’m assuming from your hasty retreat you’ve realized.”

“Are they your accounts?” I don’t know why the ignorant question comes fumbling from my mouth.

“That’s not important. What is, however, is that we need you to locate them?” That’s all he gives me. His dead eyes stare at me across the table as he flicks ash from his cigarette to the floor.

“That’s all? You just want me to locate them?”

“Get the bank information. We need them in three days.” They both rise from the table and disappear into the wall, a hidden door popping open and swinging close. I snag the paper from the table and head for the opposite exit. Their bodyguard is no longer behind me.

Shielding my eyes from the sun as I prop the door open, I spot the black SUV and James in the driver's seat.

That’s the last time I take an anonymous meeting.

I’m not sure what exactly I just got myself into, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s no way out of. I hop in the front seat and slam the paper on the center console.

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