That was close. Too close.

The elevator begins its descent downward and I release the breath I’ve been holding since the second I left her office.

Now, what?

I hang my head, counting the floor indicator dings all the way down to the ground floor.

As the doors open, the old security guard looks up from his phone. I fake a smile and wave at him as I pass, trying very hard not to make it so obvious how much my heart is struggling to remain in my chest.

I step outside and zip up my jacket to block the windchill as I bolt down the street.

Alex isn’t going to like this but how the hell was I supposed to know she’d show up today? It’s fucking Sunday.

We made plans to meet at the coffee shop down the street after I got it. I’m not looking forward to that excited look he’ll have as soon as I walk in, like a kid on Christmas morning.

Sorry, kiddo. Rough year. Enjoy the socks.

I linger outside with my fingers on the door handle, dreading the next few minutes of my life, but I’ve been through worse. We both have and we’re still here. That counts for something, right?

I pull open the door, knocking the entry bell, and exactly one head in the whole place turns to look.

Alex’s face instantly lights up from the corner table. I don’t smile back. There’s no reason to get his hopes up over nothing.

He studies the look on my face as I move closer to his table. By the time I sit down across from him, I’ve officially kicked his Christmas puppy in the face.

“Did you get it?” he asks, grasping at the last bit of hope he has.

I shake my head. “No, I did not.”

His shoulders fall. “Why the hell not?”

“She walked in before I could get it,” I answer, glancing around at the occupied tables on either side.

“She walked in?” he repeats, his voice growing.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s Sunday.”

“Well, she came into the office today.”

“Who the hell works on a Sunday?”

A few heads turn in our direction.

“Ms. Nora Payne, apparently,” I say, giving him a sour look.

Alex takes the signal and reels his shit back in. “Well… fuck,” he says under his breath. “Now, what? We were supposed to deliver the list today.”

“Call and tell them we hit a snag,” I say. “No big deal. I’ll just have to figure out a more creative way of getting alone with her computer. One that doesn’t risk me getting fired. Still kind of need this job…”

His face turns white. “Whatever you think of, think it fast, Clive.”

I furrow my brow. “What’s the hurry? The thing will be worth just as much in a few days. Hell, it might actually be worth more—”

“I don’t have a few days—” He stops, snapping his lips shut as he realizes he’s raising his voice again.

I exhale hard. “Alex, what exactly are you not telling me?”

He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. The ultimate deflector. Alex’s default setting.

Alex reads my concern. “Look, man, I have this under control.”

“Yeah, you’re looking real stable right now, Alex.”

He ignores it. “I promised I’d handle the details and I’ll handle the details. You just focus on getting the client list. Okay?”

“I am focused on getting it. I just don’t think your buyer realizes how difficult it is to access a CEO’s private computer software.”

“I never said it’d be easy.” He points at me. “In fact, I said it wouldn’t be, but you still volunteered. Remember?”

“I remember. I also remember you telling me it’d all be worth it.”

“It will all be worth it,” he says, clearly not giving a shit about his volume again. “I gave you my word that I would make it all worth it. Do you trust me?”

I shift in my seat. “Yeah, Alex. I do. Calm the fuck down.”

He takes a breath. “I’m sorry, I just…” He taps the table with his thumb. “I feel like I’ve let you down.”

I shake my head. “You haven’t let me down. No one’s let anybody down.”

“Your life isn’t what it should be and that’s my fault.” He lets out a chuckle and glares into his empty coffee mug. “It’s always been my fault. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

I sigh, moving on. “Give me another few days,” I tell him. “I’ll get the client list. Just tell your guy I’ll do my best. All right?”

“How long we talking here? Can you get it tomorrow night?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

“No, I work tomorrow night.”

“It’s an office temp job, man. Why the fuck do you have to be there on a Monday night?”

“Not that job. My other job.”

He grunts with amusement. “The gym or the sex dungeon?”

I snort. “It’s not a dungeon.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, what do you call it?”

“I call it work,” I say. “Work is work.”

“Hey.” He taps the table, smiling wide. “We finish this job and you won’t even need to work. The two of us will never have to work a day in our lives ever again. Eh? How’s that sound?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “It sounds pretty good.”