Lies(39)

“Sorry.” I give him a brief smile. “I’m Liz from Molly’s Flowers. Guess I should have led with that. Anyway, Molly sent me in since she’s at a thing right now and can’t get away.” That part of my story was at least somewhat true. Molly’s enthusiasm for Instagram made her frighteningly easy to stalk. “Apparently your guest has severe allergies, but someone forgot to notify us about it. It’s a disaster. So I need to remove the white oriental lilies and fix things up as best I can, since they can’t get an actual replacement arrangement here until the morning, after we’ve gotten our delivery from the markets. You know how it is.”

“Oh,” he says, just a dash of panic in his gaze. “Ah…”

“I know right? Such a pain in the rear.” I sigh. “Can you give me a card to quickly pop up there and get this done, or will you need to escort me? How do we do this?”

“You work with Molly?” he asks.

“She’s my boss. You’ve met her? Isn’t she great?” At least she looked nice enough on her website. My smile is all things friendly and inviting as I lean closer. “I’m new there. I guess that’s why I’ve been assigned this task. Everyone has to pay their dues, huh?”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.” His posture relaxes as he shoots his coworkers farther down the counter disgruntled looks. However, both seem oblivious to his inner pain.

“The concierge must be off running an errand, and I really can’t wait around.”

“Just give me a minute.” He picks up the phone and dials Sinclair’s room. For a moment, he just listens. “No answer.”

“Thank goodness. That means she’s not back yet, and we can get those lilies out before she gets anywhere near the pollen. It’d probably be all our asses on the line if she wakes up tomorrow covered in hives. Moll said she’s some bigwig at the U.N. It’d be a PR disaster if we hadn’t caught this in time. We just dodged a bullet, you and I.” I raise my brows in a phew-type fashion.

“Okay…um, listen,” he says, also leaning in closer and lowering his voice. “I’m due to go on my break, but I can escort you up there first. That should be fine.”

“Really? That would be so great.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks so much, Cory. I really appreciate it.” I was prepared to try and bluff the manager if I had to, but this is ideal.

There’s a discreet swagger to his step as we head for the row of elevators. I’ve made him feel important. Stroked his ego a little. Now I must find Thom before this all blows up in my face. Inside the exclusive elevator just for the penthouse suite, everything is mirrored and trimmed with gold. Soft music does little to soothe my jagged nerves. My hands are once again shaking and I’m sweating my butt off. But the stupid smile stays plastered on my face. Even when I bust Cory checking out my cleavage. The kid is not subtle. And while using him doesn’t feel good, it is necessary. Lives could very well be on the line here.

I make good use of his distraction by slipping my gun out, keeping it covered by the roses. Eventually the elevator doors open.

Time comes to such a sudden stop that I almost get whiplash. In slow motion, my mind makes a whole bunch of useless observations. A large art-deco style room with white walls and luxurious furnishings. A black grand piano. A wall of windows looking out onto the lights of New York. But it’s all just background noise to the shocking scene in front of me.

There are two dead bodies dressed in suits and leaking blood. Strangers. No one I know. And six people holding guns on each other. Some of them wearing balaclavas. One of them is noticeably smaller than the others. A woman, perhaps.

On the opposite side of the room, facing toward me, are Thom and Bear, and I can just glimpse another smaller figure, sheltered behind Bear’s huge frame. Probably the boss-lady they’re here to protect. Then there are three men standing with their backs to Cory and me, like maybe they were waiting for the elevator to make their escape. Everyone has weapons out, leveled at each other. Guess it’s a stalemate.

Thom steals a glance at me, his jawline shifting in apparent anger. But Bear ignores our arrival entirely, keeping his focus on the scene. Then one of the men standing in front of us turns, and it’s Badger.

All of these details go through my mind in a moment. There’s no time to think them over. No time to assess the situation. I just drop the flowers, aim my weapon at Badger’s center mass and fire. Boom.

And it begins.

“What the f—” It’s as far as Cory gets before something pops and a red bloom spreads across his chest and he falls.

Meanwhile, Badger drops to his knees, gun still pointed at Cory. Then he topples over, dead before he hits the floor.

“Betty, get down!” yells Thom.

I do as told and hit the floor as all hell breaks loose. The popping noise of guns with silencers versus the louder thunderclap of your regular pistols. Something I know care of watching too many action movies in my youth.

Realizing they’re trapped between two sides, Badger’s accomplices dive off to my right, firing as they do. Oh fuck me. I crouch down against the elevator wall, hands covering my ears. The doors try again and again to close but Cory’s body blocks them. Blood is everywhere.

“Get her out of here!” yells Thom, squatting behind a couch.