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There wasn’t a landline. My only option was to go downstairs and talk to the doorman. That would be awkward.
It was. The man didn’t believe I’d locked myself out of the apartment. Specifically, because I couldn’t give the name of the owner. I didn’t want to say Connor King—because I knew not many people knew who he was—but he hadn’t recognized the names Striker or Mr. Black.
“Come on. I didn’t just wander off the street. You saw me get off the elevator. Just let me use your phone,” I begged.
“You could have snuck in the garage. Without a passcode, the elevator opens to the lobby.”
I put my head on the counter, frustrated, until it hit me. “Google me. Use your computer and search for Lizzy Monroe. My gallery has a website tied to me.”
Reluctantly, he did as I asked.
When he glanced at me then back at his screen, I said, “See? It’s me. I’m not a homeless person. I really was locked out and my host went out for breakfast.” It could be true. I had no idea where he’d gone this early. “If you’d just let me use the phone…” I pointed at the landline sitting next to him.
“Fine. No international calls.”
I rolled my eyes as he picked up the phone and set it facing me on the counter. I dialed Bailey.
Once she realized it was me, she said, “How’d it go?”
I tried to whisper, but with nothing to mute my words, the doorman heard every one. “I need you to pick me up at Connor’s. I locked myself out.”
She giggled, but I didn’t. “Oh, you’re serious.”
“He left early this morning and I don’t know when he’ll be back. My purse and phone are in there.”
“Okay. I’m coming.”
“Can you call Griffin to meet us at your place? And bring flip-flops.”
“Oh-kay.” She enunciated the word as though she couldn’t imagine why. “I’m sure you’ll explain?”
“I will.”
The doorman gave me the side-eye after I ended the call—probably because my phone conversation didn’t quite match the story I’d given him.
I loved New York, but I waited until Bailey got out of the SUV and came inside with the flip-flops before I followed her out.
I waved at the doorman as I left. “Thanks.”
He didn’t respond.
Once we were in the car, Bailey faced me. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
This time, I gave her a little more detail, but still kept Connor’s secrets. “I need to find my brother and stop Connor from getting arrested.”Twenty-ThreeConnorMy peace had been made before I got here. I’d spent time with my dad and made all the necessary arrangements if things went south. Whether I went to jail or died, it was covered. My only regret was Lizzy. I didn’t think I’d be so lucky to find someone like her again.
But going to this auction was the right move. These guys had to be stopped. Ruin especially. I hoped he’d make an appearance. Going to jail for taking him down would be worth it. But so far, I’d only been able to confirm two of the other six would be here.
The sky was darkening as my driver pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse near a shipyard. Only one spotlight shined over the door. It would do nothing when darkness was complete.
“Stay with the car,” I said to the driver. His service wasn’t one I normally used, and that was the point. I didn’t want to be identified. I had no identification on me either.
The driver lifted a cigarette.
“That’s fine,” I said to his unasked question to take a smoke break.
We got out at the same time, and a flood of cars and vans drove in. I stepped back in line with the driver. I was strapped but wouldn’t wield the gun unless provoked. For all I knew, it was just a coincidence that everyone arrived at the same time.
I didn’t believe in coincidences though, and I was right not to. Cars pulled up to the warehouse, closer to the shipping containers, and two cars turned on us.
“Hands up, FBI,” someone yelled.
I already had one hand up, shielding my eyes against the sudden flood of lights.
“Hands up,” they repeated.
The driver and I did as told. I guessed it was jail then. Though it didn’t make sense they hadn’t waited for me to go in. I could easily say I had no idea what was happening inside.
Two male officers came forward and split us up.
“You’re the driver, right?” one asked me.
I recognized Matt’s voice. The sky was still bright enough for me to see his head was red, not blond. “I am.”
“That’s Mr. Black,” Matt said to the officer while pointing at my driver. “Take him in.”
I hadn’t put all the pieces together, but I glared at my driver, willing him to stay silent. The big man, and he was a big man, seemed to cower under my stare. The officer got cuffs on him and perp-walked him to one of the vehicles.
