Page 47 of Unlocked

He turned and made his way to the door. "I'll be back at eleven," he said again and left.

He made his way to his own apartment in the Society residence. As he approached the door, Flynn O'Connor and Cash Walker were standing outside it.

"What is it?" Archer demanded, opening the door. Both men followed him inside.

"We've been digging around on Davis," Flynn said. "We've found something."

Archer crossed to the bar and poured himself a small shot of whiskey. "Go on."

Flynn came over and sat down across from him without waiting to be asked. Cash waited for a slight nod from Archer before sitting.

"You were right," Cash said. "Davis has money again. A good chunk of it."

"How much?" Archer demanded.

"So far, we've located about twenty million," Cash supplied.

Flynn growled, "But we've just started. There could be considerably more."

Twenty million. Archer clenched his jaw. He'd been hoping for more. A lot more. Twenty million was substantial, but it wasn't Ponzi scheme level, not the kind of number that made the connection obvious.

"Any idea how he made it?" Archer asked.

"Not yet," Cash said. "He's being much more cautious now than he used to be. It's going to take serious digging."

Archer took a sip of his drink. "Fine. Dig. But do it carefully. I don't want him finding out I have you looking into him."

"You got it," Flynn said, getting to his feet.

Cash followed. "We'll get you answers as soon as we can."

"Thank you," Archer said, and both men left.

Twenty million wasn't enough. He'd really been hoping this would be the thing that nailed Davis. Still, the man had gotten the money from somewhere, and Archer was certain whatever he'd done for it wasn't legal. That was something worth sitting with. Twenty million. Maybe if Davis was a front man, like North and the others, twenty million represented his cut of the payday. A bit low but possible. Maybe it was a down payment. Either way, it was a start, and it would have to be enough for now.

He grabbed a quick bite while working at his desk, then showered and changed. Jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket that covered the gun tucked at the small of his back. Eleven o'clock. Time to go.

He quietly berated himself on the way over to Tatum's apartment. This was a mistake. He knew it the minute he agreed to let her accompany him. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her from coming. He liked it when she was near him. When she was close by, he knew she was safe. That logic had several obvious flaws, and he was aware of all of them.

Her door opened as he approached.

Archer's brain short-circuited.

Tatum emerged in black PVC leather pants that looked painted on, a mesh top that left very little to the imagination, and boots that added three inches to her height. But it was the wig that really sold it, a severe blue bob that should have looked ridiculous and somehow worked completely.

And the prosthetics. Subtle alterations to her nose and chin. Glitter on her cheekbones. A silver crossbones decal near her temple.

She looked like someone else entirely.

She looked stunning.

"Interesting choice," he managed, keeping his voice neutral even as his pulse kicked up.

"I need to blend in. That's what you wanted, right?"

"You'll do that." His gaze traveled over her once, slowly, cataloging every detail. The curve of her hips in those pants. The way the mesh revealed the line of her collarbone. The confidence in her stance, despite the nervousness still visible in her eyes. What he wanted was something else entirely, and he shut that thought down before it finished forming. That kind of thinking was distracting and could get them both killed.

"Let's go," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.