A small smile. And then I practically ran. I walked as fast as my hooker heels would carry me, dropping the lanyard at the front desk with barely more than a word, and then racing outside.
Somehow, I’d started this day on a mission. Now, inexplicably, I had an interview with one of the sexiest—and maybe deadliest—men in the city.
Chapter 3
I hopped into the white van that was parked across the street from the “pretty impressive” skyscraper as I’d put it.
It was complete bullshit. I hadn’t wanted to flatter him—I’d wanted to interrogate him. I wanted to know what was going on in his laboratory and what my father had to do with it.
My father was in a coma because he’d been trying to help Declan, and now I wanted answers.
Xander made his way to the front from the back of the van, and I could hear him chuckling before he even got into the driver’s seat next to me.
“Shut up,” I told him. “Just drive.”
Because we’d been friends for so long, I could talk to Xander like this and not feel guilty.
He started the engine and pulled into oncoming traffic, driving like a grandma as he usually did.
But right now I was too shaky to drive—and there was no way in hell Xander would let me with so much precious cargo in the back.
He had a treasure trove of technological goodies that were right up there with the kinds of tech the secret service probably used. The FBI. Any government section that actually had any clue what they were doing.
Part of me was almost surprised they hadn’t come along and tried to recruit him at this point.
“So…” Xander said, drawing out the word. “He looks younger in person, I think.”
I frowned. Declan did look younger in person. He was still in his mid-twenties, which was already young by any standard, but he’d looked it when his lips had curved briefly. The rest of the time, in all the pictures I’d seen, he’d looked as old and in-charge as he was supposed to seem. Perfectly composed and intimidating as hell.
I kicked off the heels, making Xander grimace, and folded my arms. “Women like torture, don’t they?”
He eyed the shoes before slowing for a stop light. “I mean, they like to look good. And what was that you said? The things we do for beauty or whatever you’d said to that woman at the elevator.”
“I was playing a part,” I told him, my voice sullen.
I wasn’t thrilled about how things had gone down at Dark Enterprises and Xander was the only one I could take it out on.
“You did good,” Xander admitted. “A dozen cameras in various locations around the building—places we normally wouldn’t have clearance for. I’d say that’s a start.”
“A start?” I turned to face him, my stomach in a knot. “I know there’s more, but it’s all research. Stuff we can do from home. With your—your fancy computers and stuff.”
His lips moved in a small smile, the way he always smiled when I talked about all his technology.
He was a million times smarter than me, but he never made me feel like it. We balanced each other out.
“You have an opportunity here, Ro,” he said, making me soften a little.
It was his nickname for me, which came from my real name, Royal—a name that actually suited me. Unlike Samantha Thompson, the person I’d become in Dark Enterprises, trying to flatter a sex god and looking like a complete idiot.
“That was a good idea, by the way, not telling Dark and that woman your real name,” Xander said, turning down the next street and aiming for the parking garage where we lived. “Of course that means I’m going to be busy tonight…”
“Busy doing what?” I asked, loosening the updo at the back of my head as well.
“Making you an alias. Samantha Thompson.”
I sighed. “What for? Samantha is old news.”
I’d just been using that name for our mission today. Now I could go back to Royal.
“It’s for your job.”
He parked while I gaped at him. “My job? What job?”
“The one you’re interviewing for tomorrow.”
“No,” I said, snagging the shoes from the ground before I hopped out. “No way. I already have a job.”
“Stalking Declan Dark is not a job,” Xander reminded me.
I glared at him and then walked to the back of the van to help gather his equipment. Neither of us spoke again until we reached our apartment, a cozy loft with a wide-open floor plan that we’d sectioned off so that we could each have our own space.
Xander worked from home at the job he barely ever really worked for and I tried to respect the few random phone calls he had to take. Mostly I figured he was just playing with stocks and messing around with people’s information for the fun of it. I’d asked him for a few favors over the years, too, but none as big as what we’d just done.
Or what we still planned to do.
I undid the buttons on the jacket of my fake ensemble, something Samantha would definitely wear, and debated on whether I wanted a shower now or later.
“We should order Chinese,” Xander said. “We have a lot of work to do.”
I ran a hand through my hair, massaging out the waves from the bun I’d had it in.
“All I want to do is make a plan,” I told Xander. “We need the files from their laboratory. Or maybe you can still hack into their security cameras. That way—”
“Whoa.” Xander adjusted his glasses, black rims that framed wide brown eyes. His lashes were to die for, but he always told me that wouldn’t help his cause.
Xander was a hopeless romantic who was also gay and didn’t love leaving
