Page 21 of Stitched Up in You
“Mikael? Has she found the false files or not?” I bite out, becoming more irritated by the second.
“She’s playing Solitaire,” he says, his dark head of cropped hair shaking in disbelief.
“She’s what? Give me that.” I take the too-small device into my hands, trying to see what the bloody hell he is on about.
My gaze widens at the almost innocent view.
She sits at the too large desk, the chair massive and looming behind her small frame, a pale hand cupped on her elbow while she plays Solitaire and bounces that ridiculous barbell in her mouth across her lips, a bored expression on her face.
I swipe through the cameras in the room, my large thumb pushing across the tiny screen, and sure enough, she’s alone except for her cat. It doesn’t make sense. She should at least be frantically trying to cover her tracks or finding an escape route after reinfiltrating the Talbot system, which we anticipated and even encouraged.
I toss the thing back at him and he catches it, a stricken expression on his face, making his dark eyes stark.
“Find what she was doing before she started playing Solitaire, now. We must have missed something after her phone call to Romania,” I tell him, unable to accept that she hasn’t been tempted to transfer as much information as possible to whoever she is working for.
Talbot is worth billions and has various lucrative subsidiaries, everyone who is anyone has been clamoring for stock of the company for decades. What the humans don’t know is that supernatural entities make up the shareholders. If whoever is working with her isn’t after the new moonflower formula—then what are they after?
Mikael’s brows shoot up into his hairline, and a smirk plays around his mouth, amusement pulling at the corners of his eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, just as my phone begins to vibrate, and my annoyance increases when he refuses to answer.
I shift just enough to grab it from my pocket, confusion mounting when Mikael’s mobile begins to ring as well.
The name of the New York mayor lights up across my screen and I click end, sending the irritating git to say what he must to the voicemail machine, but as soon as I do, another phone call comes through, this time from a demon I know that works closely with one of the human news outlets.
“Mikael, why is Finch calling me?” I ask, hitting the decline button again, only for another prominent news source to call next.
“You just donated twenty-million dollars to the New York Humanitarian effort,” he says, fighting to keep amusement from his face.
“I did what?” I thunder.
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
I blow out a harsh breath, lifting tendrils of my red hair from my face, bored out of my skull as I wait for any signs of Frank Stein and his goons. So far, it’s as if the whole place has gone silent.
I’ve been waiting at least twenty minutes for someone to burst the door down or at least try the elevator that I’ve disabled the power to from the inside. Anyone attempting to get up here better really hope there are stairs, because with all these bells and whistles at my disposal, this place is like Fort Knox. Metal sliding locks, programmable biometric scanners, daily changing security codes, cameras, and surveillance systems, all controlled by security that I took over a few minutes ago, so nifty.
There’s even a hidden snack cubby I found after pilfering through the big room along with a stocked minibar. I toss a potato chip into my mouth and smack loudly, swishing my ankles across the smooth wood of the desk. What billionaire doesn’t have a minibar?
Edgar purrs loudly from inside his cat carrier on the desk, and I have to fight the urge to take him out of it. Instead, I reach inside to pet him lightly, not really wanting to disturb him, more than enough time to check out his incisions later. I’d want to sleep off as much of the ordeal off as I could too, poor guy.
Lightning strikes again through the clear glass window, but I’m somewhat desensitized now, as arcs have been flying acrossthe sky so hard it looks like Zeus is having a rave among the clouds. Another bolt, and I swear I can hear thunder rumble behind the thick glass. “So pretty,” I breathe.
My gaze travels to the computer screen at the first sign of movement and an overwhelming wave of excitement shoots straight to my gut, making my stomach clench in response. Outside, a long black limo is streaking up the drive like the guy plays too much grand theft auto in his off time, and my lips stretch into a smile.
Sheer and unadulterated glee fills me when men begin to exit the vehicle. Six of them step out of the vehicle, all buttoning their obviously expensive suits, and head for the lobby doors. My whole body is vibrating with the knowledge that Frank Stein is about to lose his absolute shit when he realizes the mistake he made in underestimating me. Poor guy. What must it feel like to be a billionaire locked out of your home?
My brows pinch together as I click through the cameras trying to see where Frank and his men have gotten to.
I need him to find the elevator for me before he gets on it. The lobby is mostly empty, with only an attendant behind the counter. Instead of looking up the blueprints on the building, I’ve just paused all elevators for the time being. Frankie boy shouldn’t take too long to show me which one leads to his office.
Once I cut the power going to it, he will have no choice but to call his office. I will then magnanimously hand his precious kingdom back over, after he gets me the hell home. Negotiating with the bonehead for my release shouldn’t be too hard since no one has been hurt after all, but I am not taking the fall for some more bullshit.
I figure the cash I just sent the humanitarian efforts council will go to good use, my fee for all of the work the last few days under high stress conditions. He should consider himself lucky.
It should be a simple thing to bypass the link between the security system and the power to the building. Even if it is a skyscraper, the proverbial balls of Frank Stein, this place is not impenetrable.
My stomach flip-flops like a pancake tossed from a well-oiled skillet when Frank marches towards a wall that reveals metal when he presses a discreet button I’d never notice.
