Page 40 of Unlocked

"I guess I'm spoiled." She didn't bother adding that she'd worked her backside off for years to be able to buy this apartment, or that it had taken her another couple of years to drag it out of the seventies after buying it from an elderly couple who hadn't bothered updating it since they moved in.

Josh made a soft snort and rolled his eyes dramatically. It was the first time he'd been openly disdainful about it. She'd always known he resented her, probably because he thought she had everything. Maybe she should feel some sympathy for that. But he could have Bunny. He was welcome to her.

Tatum took a sip of coffee and, out of the corner of her eye, caught something. She glanced over. Smudges of dirt on the railing by the corner. That was where whoever broke in had come over the edge.

She killed the urge to walk over and inspect it because she didn't want to draw attention to it. Josh was prattling on about views in Manhattan, gesturing expansively, and then seemed to stop.

She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

He started walking the length of the terrace, trailing his fingers along the railing. "I was saying, do you have any big plans for summer? Maybe take a real vacation so you can come back and work on a real case?"

Tatum gritted her teeth. The nerve of this man. Everything she did was real.

"I don't know, Josh. I haven't thought that far ahead."

He walked toward the end of the terrace where the scuff marks were. Tatum's stomach tightened. She wasn't sure Rush had gotten photographs of them, and she didn't want them disturbed. She didn't want to call attention to them either.

"What about you, Josh? Any big plans for summer?"

But he kept moving and ended up standing right next to the marks. He turned to face her and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the railing.

"I haven't thought about it yet. Your mother invited me out to the Hamptons. I was thinking several weeks in July."

"That might be nice," Tatum said, willing him away from the railing with every fiber of her being.

If Josh didn't realize that Bunny's "pick any week you want" meant "I'll let you know when you can come," he was never going to figure it out.

"Anyway," Josh said as he put his hands on the railing.

No. Tatum's pulse spiked. "Josh, don't⁠—"

But he'd already touched it. He pulled his hands back immediately, staring at his palms with visible distaste. "Ugh. Do you have a paper towel?"

Her heart sank. The scuff marks, the one piece of evidence Rush might have been able to use, were now smudged beyond recognition. She forced herself to keep her face neutral. Internally, she wanted to scream.

"Let's go back inside," she said, her voice tight.

Archer took the stairs in her building rather than the elevator. Force of habit, and he needed a moment to think. By the time he reached her floor, he could hear voices through the door, which was not fully closed. He was going to have to have a word with her about being careless. He stood in the hallway for a moment and listened.

The other night, jeez, just last night, Tatum had clearly despised and equally clearly couldn't get rid of the man. Archer had done his research on the people in Tatum's orbit the moment she became relevant to him, which was before she even knew he existed. And Joshua Kent was one of the more interesting entries. Ambitious. Resentful. Devoted to Margaret Wellington in a way that had very little to do with professional loyalty and quite a lot to do with proximity to power. Not dangerous, exactly. But not harmless either.

The voices faded. He assumed they'd moved to the balcony. Josh had apparently demanded to see it. Archer slipped into the apartment and went down the hallway toward the bedroom. He wanted to make sure Tatum had closed the door to her secret room.

It took him a moment to find the panel. Quite ingenious.

He settled in her closet to wait for his moment.

Tatum followed Josh back through the sliding door, and Josh walked straight to the kitchen sink, washing his hands with elaborate thoroughness. Tatum grabbed a dish towel and handed it to him, keeping her breathing steady.

"Thank you," he said, patting his hands dry with delicate precision. Then he glanced down the hallway. "You know, I don't think I've ever actually seen your bedroom. I'm dying to see how you've decorated it."

Tatum's blood went cold.

The secret room. The door. She'd left it open.

"Josh—" she started, but he was already moving toward the hallway.

Shit. Shit. Shit. "Maybe some other time. I'd really rather you didn't go back there."