Nothing.
Nothing that is except the password box. I exhaled, mildly irritated but not terribly surprised. I considered trying knights—or even Michelle because I was still feeling jealous and petty. But I was confident that Tyler wouldn’t be that obvious. For that matter, it was possible he had some sort of keystroke monitor and would know I’d been snooping.
I considered the computer a bit longer. The notes might mean nothing now, but maybe they would make sense later. I weighed my options, hurried into the living room to find my purse, then returned with my smart phone and snapped a picture of the screen.
It wasn’t much, but at least I’d done something.
With no other plan of attack for the kitchen, I decided to see what else might be in the penthouse. I already knew there was no workstation in the bedroom, but I sincerely doubted that a man like Tyler would be willing to live without a desk, even for only a few months.
With luck, I’d find either a dedicated office or a bedroom that Tyler had set up as one. With even more luck, I’d find something interesting.
I poured a second cup of coffee and took it with me as I set out to find and search his office. I had personal knowledge that Tyler was not only well-muscled, but had serious endurance. So I assumed he spent a significant amount of time at the gym. What I didn’t know was where the gym was located or how long he’d been gone. If he used the fitness center at The Drake, his travel time would be minimal.
No matter what, time was of the essence, and me and my coffee hurried down the corridor that lead off the south side of the living area.
The hallway angled sharply, and I’d just made the turn when I stopped dead. Tyler. His voice. I couldn’t make out the words, but I was damn sure that was his voice.
Shit. Holy fucking shit.
He was here. In the penthouse. And he must have been here the whole damn time.
I said a silent thank-you to St. Christopher—the patron saint of cops—who’d apparently been watching out for me, preventing Tyler from popping into the kitchen to freshen his coffee while I poked around on his laptop. With any luck, good old Christopher would stay on the job.
The voice was coming from behind the first door on the left. Probably a gym—it occurred to me belatedly that a penthouse this large would have a private gym—and I eased that way. I couldn’t snoop while he was on the premises, so I might as well tell him I was awake.
But as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I realized two things. First, the door was cracked just slightly. Second, Tyler wasn’t alone.
The woman in me felt a twinge of guilt, but the cop didn’t even hesitate. I edged quietly up against the door, tilted my head, and listened.
“Franklin showed up late for the party,” said a deep voice that I recognized as belonging to Cole August. “Said to tell you that Lizzy’s a gem. Guess her first couple of days went well.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tyler said “She works hard, and she’s sharp. I figure he’s lucky to have her. At least that’s good news. Bentley’s turning out to be a liability.”
“My neck’s clear on this one,” a third man said, and I assumed it was Evan Black. “But if you want my advice, you don’t want to waste any time getting a protection plan in place.”
“Agreed,” Cole said.
“I think Michelle’s our best option,” Tyler said, and my ears perked up at the name. “Okay by you?”
“Shit, man,” Cole said. “I just fuck her. I’m not her keeper. If we need her, we’ll use her. You know that.”
“Fine,” Tyler said. “I’ll set it up. What else?”
“Lina noticed your date for the party,” Evan said in a voice that sounded just a little too smooth. “Asked me if I knew who she was.”
I froze, wishing I could see as well as hear.