EZRA
This was a suicide mission.
I spend half a day circling the steel and glass wonder of Sinro Enterprises before I come to the disheartening conclusion that there is no way I’m sneaking in anywhere but through the front doors. Heavy gates block off the parking garage entrances, and all the side doors are tucked behind stone walls, locked down with biometric security.
Sometimes you had to walk directly into the fire, and if you put out the right energy, nobody blinked twice in your direction.
Buttoned up in a hunter green dress shirt and black slacks I’d swiped from a tux shop, I stride into the expansive, granite lobby. I permit myself a few seconds to appreciate the grandeur, watching a dual set of glass elevators rise and fall in the center of the proud building.
I’m sure I look daft, head tilted up and jaw hanging open, but the reality of where I’m standing, in one of the wealthiest buildings in East Bank, hits me square in the chest.
My gaze drops to the line of metal detectors and half a dozen men and women with tactical vests sporting weapons. Impatient employees crowd around them to swipe their badges and haul ass to work.
God, I hope my lack of a solid plan works out.
“Sir, can I help you?” the receptionist, an older Black woman, calls out.
Shit. Mistake number one, Ezra. Lingering too long.
“Um, yeah. I have a meeting with Cain Vincent.” Uncertainty bleeds into my tone. Does anyone actually request the CEO of a company?
The receptionist looks me over. Should I have stolen a full-on suit instead? I know my hair needs to be cut, but with criminals breathing down my neck, I’m feeling a little rushed for time.
She pops her gum. “Name?”
I peek over at her partner’s computer screen and spit out the first name I see listed there. “Brian Richards.”
This is so stupid. So incredibly stupid.
But really, all I need to do is get past their line of security and locate some sort of data room. Architectural plans online showed another set of elevators along the west end of the building. I’d also memorized stairwells and emergency exits.
And if the drive wasn’t stored with their data? Well, I’d just have to get creative…
The receptionist spins her chair to reach for her phone, and I break away from her desk. My hand dips into my pocket to grab the badge I’d stolen from an employee on the way in. A bump against his shoulder, and I’d snatched it right out of his pocket.
Sweat beads along the back of my neck as I scan the badge on a pad at the beginning of the security line. It blinks green, and I hurry through one of the metal detectors under the scrutiny of two armed guards. No need to remove anything on my body. Might be stupid for me not to carry weapons, but I’m better trained with my hands and feet than with a gun or a knife.
I give the guards a nod of respect, trying to keep my movements fluid like I belong here, though my heart is slamming against my ribs. Any fricken second and the receptionist is gonna call me out.
The guards wave me forward, and I break into a fast walk toward the back elevators.
“Meetings,” I mumble when a few employees glance my way. “Meetings all damn day.”
My badge scans green on the pad by the elevator doors, and I dart inside. Hey, maybe this hair-brained strategy is gonna work out.
As I’m looking over too many buttons, a hand snaps between the closing elevator doors. My blood pressure skyrockets, expecting more guns pointed at my head any second.
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FanfictionABIGAIL GLENN'S WARNINGS BL TRIGGER WARNINGS This book is heavy. I would say in some ways, heavier than anything I've ever written. While there are plenty of sweet moments, nuggets of comedy, and a HEA, it does touch on very sensitive, difficult top...
