Page 36 of Bare
She shook her head, but then her eyes took on a bird-like intensity. “He smoked.”
“Smoked?”
“Cigarettes.” Her gaze grew distant, and her voice took on a wistful note. “When I was a teenager, everyone smoked. No matter where we traveled, people smoked. Even I smoked. I know it is a terrible habit, but I miss it.”
Vapes were more common now, but smoking was still a multibillion-dollar industry.
“A lot of people still smoke.”
“I guess. But the way he smoked was distinctive. He asked if I minded if he had a cigarette before he left. He was outside, so I didn’t care. He had the oddest look on his face when he inhaled. It was as if the cigarette was a religious experience. And every exhale was like a hiss. I remember thinking he sounded like a snake.”
Aleksei knew that look, and he knew that sound. He’d seen and heard it hundreds of times.
Gary fucking Kemper.
Chapter Twelve
I’m going to be stiff for days.
The thought flashed through Rosemary’s mind as she leaned back, gingerly stretching out one cramped leg and then the other. Thank goodness she’d worn pants today, or her frequent shifting and stretching would be showing parts that were not work-appropriate. Not that Armando or Dante would even notice. Dante only tore his eyes away from his laptop when he went to the basement to bring up more files, and like her, Armando’s head was buried in paper.
Paper was everywhere.
She had claimed a small piece of real estate in the corner of Armando’s office when they’d carried in all the files from the conference room. He’d said he wanted more privacy while discussing what she’d found. He went positively gray when she showed him the invoice for the elevator at the Penrose warehouse. That had kicked off the whirlwind of figuring out how deep the hole went.
Armando had called Dante in to conduct some electronic sleuthing. Rosemary’s computer skills were good, but Dante was a wizard. Since the scanned invoices were PDFs, and the variousprograms for payables contained limited data points, it was a coin toss as to what results the electronic records would yield. Tackling the paper files with Armando while Dante handled the electronic ones seemed like the most efficient approach.
Clear space had consistently dwindled as Dante brought in additional files throughout the day. Now, every inch of Armando’s boat-sized desk, guest chairs, black leather couch, and glass-and-chrome coffee table were covered in a sea of creamy yellow manilla folders, stark white invoices, with some blue and green ones mixed in, and burgundy Redweld file folders.
Her stomach growled, the sound loud in the pin-drop quiet room. They’d worked through lunch, grabbing drinks and snacks from the gelateria. The sky had transitioned from bright blue to rose to the bluish purple of springtime dusk.
Armando dropped his forearms onto his desk with a thud. “It’s time we called it a day. My eyes are going blurry. Dante and I will pick this back up tomorrow.”
“I can help too,” she quickly offered. She didn’t want Armando battling the paper stacks solo.
“You won’t be here. You’re on vacation.”
She blinked a few times, eyes gritty from hours of names, numbers, and spreadsheets.
Vacation. The day had taken such a crazy turn that she’d completely forgotten she was supposed to be leaving for vacation today. A few weeks ago, Armando had insisted she schedule her carryover vacation days from last year before they expired at the end of the month. She couldn’t even remember if she’d put the time off in their work system. She’d figure that out later. Right now, there were more important matters at hand.
“I can’t leave you with this mess.”
“You most certainly can.” As if sensing the argument on the tip of her tongue, Armando added, “This isn’t open to discussion. You’re going on your vacation. I insist.”
Armando’s reminder about her trip immediately turned her thoughts to Sage’s texts last night. They were branded into her brain.
What the hell were you thinking inviting a complete stranger on vacation?
You barely know this guy. What if he’s a serial killer? Or a rapist?
You’re taking this live life to the fullest shit too far. Living fully doesn’t mean being stupid!
Do you want to die?
After the last one, she’d set her phone on Do Not Disturb.
She was done being micromanaged by her sister. Yes, Sage had lived and worked in France, while Rosemary had never left the tri-state area. Yes, Sage had gone away to college and worked in gritty strip clubs, while she had attended all her university classes virtually and had only one brief job before this one. There was no arguing that Sage had more life experience, but that didn’t give her sister the right to run her life.
