I return my attention to the game to avoid thinking any more about Savage’s skills and his cock. I’m not up on my baseball. In fact, I only understand about half of what’s happening on the field.
“Why isn’t the second baseman on second base?” I ask, trying to show some interest.
Savage chuckles and seems to realize my ignorance of the game. “Because he needs to cover the area between first base and second base. Just like the shortstop covers the area between second and third.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. The first basemen stays on his base and the third baseman stays on his. Why wouldn’t they just have another short stop for in between first and second?”
He laughs and seems to consider my question. “I haven’t thought about it really. It’s just how it’s always been.”
“Well, they should change it.”
If I can change, so can baseball.
The click, click, click of my heels on the cement floor echoes in the completely empty warehouse. This place is utterly barren. Only dust and pigeons currently occupy the thousands of feet of space that once housed a bustling car assembly plant.
I glance down at my watch.
7:30.
He should be here by now. Turning in a circle, I search for any sign of Paul. He changed our meeting place, texting me this address an hour ago and telling me to come alone. Like I would ever bring anyone to a meet with him anyway.
I hate to admit it, but maybe Savage is right. Maybe it’s a little dangerous to meet with a source alone, in an abandoned warehouse, where there probably isn’t anyone around to hear me scream if something happened. But, this is Paul, and despite his efforts during our last meeting to intimidate me, I don’t think he would ever do anything to hurt me.
He’s the one who contacted me, after all. After our last meeting, he could have disappeared and stopped calling me and there’s nothing I could do about it. But he texted to confirm our meeting today. He said he would try again, and I’ve been anxious thinking about what he might bring me—photos, recordings, paperwork, anything that can tie Mayor Dunne to Abello by more than just supposition.
I do trust Paul, but the Post-it situation has me on edge. That strange feeling of being watched has followed me since our last meeting. The only time I didn’t feel it was when I was at the game with Savage. But I can’t let my as-yet unfounded unease stop me from my mission.
I need this more than I need some quality alone time with Savage. And that’s saying A LOT.
We were both so exhausted after the game last night, we fell asleep on the ride home, quashing any hopes I had of limo sex. The lack of sex is almost as concerning as Paul’s caginess. He’d better come through.
A clank on the far side of the warehouse near a line of closed office doors breaks me from my reverie and I squint into the darkness, looking for the source of the sound. A second later, a shadow emerges, moving toward me slowly.
“Paul?” I ask, taking a slow step toward the mystery figure.
“Yeah, uh hey, Danika, sorry I’m late,” he answers, his voice quiet and shaky.
“Is everything okay?” He approaches me and, even in the dim lighting of the building, I can see he’s nervous. His entire body is twitching, and he’s in constant motion, looking around the warehouse and twisting his hands together in front of his body.
Shaking his head, he runs his hands back through his hair and paces around me anxiously. “No, I think they’re onto me.”
Fuck.
“Why? What happened?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces. “Shit. They’re going to kill me.”
“Paul,” I say, reaching out to lay my hand on his arm, “tell me what happened.” This is bad. This is really, really bad, but I try to maintain my composure so I don’t spook him more.
“I was in the office, going through the files, looking for the documentation you need, and Alonzo came in.”
“Shit.” Alonzo Mattuci is one of Domenico’s high-ranking lieutenants, and, according to rumor, is also his top gun. I heard he has over one hundred kills under his belt. If he caught Paul, it would be a death sentence. “Well, you’re here, so obviously he doesn’t suspect anything. We both know you would be dead if he had.”
Paul nods his agreement and chews on his nail. “He asked me what I was doing and I told him I was looking for a purchase order for one of the truck parts because we needed to replace it with the same part. He seemed to buy it, and ended up finding the order for me before shooing me out of the office.”
This is particularly concerning, considering the revelations of our last meeting. Abello has my name and now Paul’s been caught in the office. Still, we are both still alive.
“Did you get anything before he came in? Did you find anything about the meeting?”
Paul glares at me. Maybe I deserve it, but this story is my career. “Yeah, I did.”
He hands me a sheet of paper with the name of one of Abello’s construction companies across the top. It’s a bid on a construction project downtown—the new offices for the district attorney.