Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(71)

First, I’ll need to call Alex to see how she’s holding up.

But just as I’m putting my gym shoes back into my locker, the phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize. But there’s an icon of a skeleton key beside it, meaning that the call is coming from someone inside The Company.

I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Eric! This is Duff. The bodyguard from last night?”

“Sure, man. What’s up? Is there a problem?”

“Sort of.” He drops his voice. “Alex is in a bad way. There was a break-in last night. A real pro job.”

“A break in… where?”

“Dude—her apartment. These guys repelled off the roof of her building and came in through the kitchen window. There was nothing on the hallway security video.”

My heart leaps into my mouth. “Jesus Christ. Was she home?”

“No! It was earlier. While we were busy evading that motorcycle, they broke in and planted a device that stole the data off her phone.”

“Back up,” I grunt. “So the motorcycle was a diversion?”

“Exactly. Kept us busy, right? It was quite the caper—they shut off her internet to prevent any security devices from functioning. Then they swapped out her phone charger for a fake. She plugged in her phone, unlocked it and boom. The phone gets a lobotomy. She couldn’t tell anything was wrong until this morning when it was too late.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s perfectly safe. These guys were after her data, not her person. But she’s shaken up. She’s in the baby’s room trying to build something with, like, hammers. And she won’t let me help. I was wondering if…” He pauses.

“If what?”

“If you could, like, calm her down.”

I let out a snort. “You’re sending me into the lion’s den?”

“Something like that.”

But of course I’m going over there. “How about I pick up some dinner and come by in an hour?”

“Would you? Thank fuck.”

“What do you think she’d want to eat?”

“Dunno,” the kid says. “Just get a lot of it. She was too freaked out to eat lunch. And when that appetite kicks in…” I can almost hear him shiver.

“Roger. See you soon, man.”





25





Eric





When I show my ID in the lobby of Alex’s building, the guy behind the desk waves me inside. “They’re expecting you.” He peers over the edge of the desk at the bags in my hands. “What did you bring her?”

“This and that.” I basically cleaned out and entire aisle of prepared foods at Eli’s. There are meatballs and pasta salads and olives and pickles. And dumplings. Samosas and some tandoori chicken. Cheeses and charcuterie. I picked up some bagels (plus toppings) and fresh juices and sparkling water. Also cookies.

And a cherry pie.

“Godspeed.” The doorman points at the elevator bank. “You want the penthouse level.”

When the elevator doors open up, I find a small lobby leading to only one door. Alex clearly has the entire floor to herself.

Duff rises from a chair parked just outside her door. “Dude. I thought you’d never get here. I’ve been fired three times tonight just for offering to help her. But it’s hard to watch her with that hammer. I’ve got 911 on speed dial just in case.”

I hand him the smaller of the take-out bags I brought. “Here. For you. It’s a bunch of samosas and some chicken. Thanks for looking out for my girl.”

Duff blinks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Consider it hazard pay. Now let me in so I can assess the threat level.”

He leaps to the door and places his palm on a sensor. The light winks green. “I could probably be fired for this. But that would be the fourth time tonight, so I’m kinda used to it already.”

“Have some dinner and take a load off. I’ve got this.”

Duff, looking grateful, closes the door behind me.

I’m standing in the entryway of the most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen. The foyer is larger than some New York apartments. There’s a painting by Jasper Johns on the wall in front of me.

I give myself a mental high five for knowing who’d painted it. And then I walk on, finding myself in a chic but comfortable living space with floor to ceiling windows and big comfortable sofas. Nice pad, Alex.

There’s a ridiculously fancy kitchen off to my left. It’s sleek but approachable. The cabinets are made of a shiny red material, and upholstered stools line the broad marble counter. I set my bag on the island and leave the kitchen in search of Alex.

I pass a den with a giant TV on one wall and a desk on another. No Alex.

But then, from deeper inside the apartment, I hear the sound of banging. And then cursing. “Goddammit!”

Hastening my steps down a thickly carpeted hallway, I move toward the sound of a frustrated female. I find Alex in a room that’s painted a cheery purple-blue color. She has her back to me, but I can see that she’s using the claw end of a hammer to try to pull a nail out of the wall.

She’s dressed in sweatpants, mismatched socks, and a giant T-shirt that reads MIT Summer Nerd Patrol 2008 across the back. Her hair is half falling out of a messy ponytail.