Page 104 of The Truths that Deceive

Call me. Aaron.

Fingers shaking, I memorize the cell number, and I’m about to call when something stops me. Maybe it’s him seeing Felicity, which makes no sense. Although moneyed people know moneyed people, and Riley made money when he moved into the private sector.

So I back trace it. Could be that Riley changed his mind after seeing me, but this message… it was left before then. Between leaving Brooklyn and the opening.

And it looks to have come from DC.

I close the phone and pocket it, then open the door and almost scream.

Smith glowers at me.

Everything in me goes into free fall and I half expect him to push me back inside and ravage me.

Instead, he grabs my hand. “We need to go.”

“Wait—”

“No, we move now. And fast.”

We race down the hall, past the bathrooms and through another door marked management. I expect it to be an office, but it’s a small room with an elevator. He hits the button and the door slides open.

Smith pushes me inside.

“I thought this was an exclusive club with a restaurant and a night club with a sex club downstairs. Your depraved all in one.”

He laughs. “That and it’s also headquarters for billionaire criminals.”

I almost laugh when I catch his eyes. They’re serious. Deadly, dark-blue pools of very deep secrets.

“You’re a billionaire?”

“No, I just like to squat upmarket and sneak on private planes.”

The door dings at the floor markedG. I expect to step into a lobby, but instead we’re in an underground garage with low lighting and expensive cars. Taking my hand, he leads me through the cars to a back exit that is covered by armed guards.

Whatever this place is, it’s fortified, protected, and they know Smith.

There’s a black car waiting on the narrow street where we exit.

The back door opens and he gives me a gentle shove. I slide inside, and the moment he closes the door, the driver takes off.

I’m not sure where we’re going, but it’s not to any of the places we’ve already been to tonight. The windows are tinted so I can’t see much. We cross a bridge and we’re in a crisscross of streets that are mainly industrial and bars, some strip joints and old-school diners.

And we keep going.

Finally, we pull up to a curb in front of a warehouse.

When we step inside, he says, “Welcome to your new abode.”

I step in, and lights burst to life. Outside there aren’t any windows, and it looks like it’s unused, or if it is, used for long-term storage. But inside…

Wow, it’s gorgeous. State of the art. Luxury in a hidden box. And, I’m betting, complete with security camera feeds.

There are safe houses, and then there’s this. Oh, it’s a safe house for sure. The street is void of people and even cars, andthe other warehouses probably just sit, unused. Blend in and be seen.

But this is something else.

“No barebones safe house for you,” I mutter as the door closes and locks behind us.

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