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I’m not exaggerating. That actually happened over the last two days. Twice.
“No.” He steps back. Sucks in a breath. Pushes his hair out of his eyes. “I won’t.”
My smirk widens. Carter, albeit rattled, smiles back.
“Enough with the games. We’re here for her.” Motioning to the wood and glass door behind the archway, I tell him, “Let’s go.”
“About time.”
The building’s lobby looks like it hasn’t been renovated for decades, and yet everything seems brand new. The antique marble floors, tall ceilings, the carved wood sliding doors of the elevators. Old and pristine.
“We’re here for the Carmichaels,” I announce to the concierge.
The younger, built man’s brown eyes linger on us. I bet he doubles as their security. He takes note of the tailor-made suits. Our expensive haircuts. Deems us worthy to even step inside the building.
“Your names?”
“You won’t find us on the guest list.” Carter steps closer to the concierge’s stand. “We’re, what you might call, unannounced. But we’re supposed to be here, so…” Carter leans in, reading the gold plate tag on the hefty man’s jacket. “Porter. Let’s not waste anyone’s time. You’re going to buzz us in.”
“I don’t know who you think you are.” Porter’s lip curls in a snarl, his chest puffed. “The answer is no. I’m going to have to ask you two to leave the premises.”
“Is that an order?” I unbutton my suit jacket, tugging it to the side.
The man’s brows scrunch together as he catches a glimpse of my Glock. He rises to his full height, his eyes narrowing.
Wraps his meaty fingers around the taser in his holster. As if that’s going to scare us off—the people who are packing guns.
“For real?” Of course, Carter would find our situation entertaining. Of course, he’d chuckle. “You’re threatening us with that?”
“I’m just getting started, asshole,” Porter pulls the taser out. “Try me. You’ll lose.”
“Lose in fucking what?” Carter barks out another laugh, slamming his hand on top of Porter’s desk. Before the latter has a chance to answer, Carter whips his head to me, his gray eyes glinting. “Afraid of a little electricity, Kill?”
“Nah.” My hand finds the Glock. My thumb glides along the curve of the trigger. “He’s going to have to do a little better than that.”
“Much.” Carter swivels his head back to the front desk, slowly, ignoring how Porter starts rounding it. “Stay right where you are.”
Porter fails to listen, poor asshole. He comes to the front, aiming the buzzing taser on Carter. Carter, with his animal instincts, grabs Porter’s wrist. He slams the man’s hand on his own stand, then goes for his throat, dragging his back to where Porter stood a second ago.
I keep watch, though it’s not necessary. Carter shoves Porter’s face to the desk where no one will be able to see him.
There are struggle noises, then a, “Fuck you.”
Carter plucks Cyclone from his pocket for Porter to see, his way of playing with his new human toy.
“These rich fucks worth it?”
“Fuck—”
Carter slices a straight line on Porter’s cheek. Blood trickles to the wooden desk. “Say that again.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“That’s funny. You don’t seem to be in a position to be issuing threats.” Carter lifts his gaze to me. He makes a show of scrunching his eyebrows, pretending to look at me in confusion. “Am I missing something here?”
“No one threatens me and stays alive.” Porter squirms from beneath Carter.
“No one will threaten you. Since you’ll be dead and all.”
