Page 129 of Smoke Screen
“Pleasure, ma’am. Sorry about what happened yesterday. I hope you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Ready for this to be over. But thank you.”
Reid nodded and came back to Phin. “Here’s the deal. We’ll walk him through the front and down the hall. There’s an empty office at the back of the building. Gage is upstairs if we need him. Y’all set?”
“Let’s do it.”
Phin walked to the SUV’s rear door and opened it, helping their still-blindfolded contact out. What he didn’t need was this guy tripping on the curb, taking a header and winding up with a brain injury.
A vision of the statue Zeke would turn him into streamed in his mind, the guilt over breaking his word to his brother in every fucking way possible, floating right behind.
He locked his hand around the guy’s biceps—they didn’t even know his name—and halted him. “Curb. Step up.”
Once inside the glass-enclosed lobby, Reid made sure the door behind them latched shut and Phin glanced at the two leather chairs, sofa, and coffee table with a crystal sculpture on top that glittered under the sun’s rays.
According to the rumor mill, Brynne had broken the bank on decorating the lobby area and Reid blew an artery.
Good for her.
The big man marched them down a long corridor, the soles of their shoes squeaking against the pristine floors. The sound hit him a certain way. An annoying way that scraped against his eardrums.
He focused on the hallway, the back of Reid’s head. Anything but that damned squeaking.
Fatigue. That’s all this was.
And guilt.
Reid made a right and stopped in front of a door at the rear of the building. He pushed it open and waved them in.
Inside, a generic metal desk sat in the center of the small office, the top empty except for a desk phone. Two equally bland chrome guest chairs were situated in front of it and the light gray walls stood bare. Zero personalization.
And definitely no windows.
Phin led the guy—let’s call him Bob—through the doorway, with Maddy bringing up the rear.
“I’ll be out here if you need something,” Reid said, closing the door.
Time to get the show on the road.
Phin removed the blindfold, tossing it on the desk, and gave Bob a second to adjust to the harsh overhead lighting. He directed him to one of the chairs. Not wanting Maddy any closer to him than necessary, Phin took the chair beside Bob, leaving the desk chair for Maddy.
“Let’s make this quick,” Phin said. “What have you got?”
“Hold on,” Bob said, giving Phin a hard look that nearly made him laugh.
Please. He’d take this weasel in three seconds.
Maybe less.
“I’m not talking,” Bob said, “until I know I’m gonna get paid. I want half upfront. The other half when the job is done.”
“You’re dreaming. You get nothing until those jewels are returned.”
“Then no deal.”
Phin shrugged, got to his feet, and scooped the blindfold off the desk. “I’m not the one trying to get out of Dodge by tomorrow morning. On your feet. I don’t have time for this.”
Bob’s gaze shot to Maddy.
