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“Listen, you’ve answered what questions I have,” Jeremiah says.
“Questions? What questions?” I say. I force myself to sound casual, almost surprised, because the last thing I want is for Jeremiah to resurrect his doubts.
“About who you are. See, there’s a rumor that Lars ‘Bison’ Buckowski gave himself that nickname out of pride over the size of his cock.” Jeremiah’s eyes flicker down from my eyes to somewhere lower on my body. I’m zipped up, but still hard. “And that his ego is not exactly out of whack with reality.”
I shoot Alexandra a look over my shoulder. See?
She snorts. “So, what now, Mr. Brock?”
“I have a job for you two, which is the reason I sought you out as soon as you arrived. It’s an important job, however, it is not an immediate need, and since what I am going to ask of you is of some vital importance, I want to keep our relationship amicable. Which means you two are welcome to make use of the guest bedroom suites on my property. There are three in the main hallway, all on the left-hand side. The master bedroom is at the end of the hall, and you are to stay out of it. Otherwise, enjoy yourselves and come find me outside when you’re ready. I’ll be among the crowd, making an appearance, since I threw this party, after all.”
Jeremiah leaves with his men.
The moment we’re alone, Alexandra slides off the bar and heads toward the door. When I don’t move, she turns and looks furiously at me over her shoulder. “Well? Are you coming? This is no time to fuck around. We need to find that flash drive.”
“I think that’s exactly why Jeremiah’s giving us this time — to fuck around.”
“You’re the worst.”
“You know I’m right.”
“You’re also a man who apparently chose his nickname based on the size of his cock.”
“When you have the size to back it up, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I suppose you’re right. I mean, I have no problem thinking of you as a colossal dick.”
My mouth clicks shut, and she gestures for me to follow. I walk behind her down the hallway. She breezes past the doors to the different guest suites, making right for the master bedroom. If there’s anywhere on this property where Jeremiah Brock is keeping the flash drive we need to steal, it’s in here.
We reach the master bedroom door, and she picks the lock quicker than I can blink with a set of lockpicks she slips out of somewhere deep inside her shirt; Alexandra has a knack for getting into places she isn't supposed to be.
She pushes open the door and steps inside.
The room is a sprawling space of luxury and sin — the perfect lair for a man like Jeremiah Brock. Polished, handmade furniture, a disturbing number of velvet drapes, and a bed big enough it needs its own zip code. Alexandra's already at the mahogany desk in the corner, sifting through papers and drawers with urgency.
“Let’s get to work. We don’t have much time before Jeremiah will come looking for us,” she says.
“Don’t have much time? What do you mean by that?”
“Clearly, despite your unfounded confidence in the size of your cock, you’re not one for endurance. You’re fast, like a delicate little gazelle, not long-lasting, like a wolf.”
“Do wolves go long distances?” I say before I even catch her insult. What the fuck does she mean by comparing my cock to a gazelle? But, by then, I’ve committed to finding out the answer.
“When roaming, they can travel all day at a trot of five miles an hour. At a sprint, they can run at a speed of thirty-five, forty miles per hour, for anywhere from six to ten miles. They’re apex predators who can not only maul their prey, but wear them down to exhaustion.”
“How the fuck do you know this stuff?”
“I don’t only listen to true crime podcasts. They’re just my favorites, because they align with my interest in figuring out the best way to kill you. But I also like podcasts about nature and how wonderful the world is. They’re good palate cleansers… for the times between when I’m thinking about murdering you.”
“Nerd.”
“Shut up and search.”
We scour the room. Not only do the answers we need depend upon finding that flash drive for Seraphina and Kyle, but our lives depend on doing it quickly, before Jeremiah Brock and his goon squad realize that Alexandra and I aren’t fucking in one of his back rooms. There might be debate between the two of us about how long we actually have, but there isn’t time for fucking around.
"Find anything yet?"
"Not yet," I say. "But it wouldn't surprise me if Brock's got a vault hidden in here." I try one of the drawer handles on the wardrobe. It doesn’t budge. “Damn thing’s locked. Fuck it.”
