Page 9 of Hide and Keep

“Leave the keys in it and one of the techs will park it for you.”

Techs. They have technicians onsite.

As soon as I drop my keys on the driver’s seat, he tells me, “If you’re ready, Mr. Munreaux will see you now.”

“Mr. Munreaux is already here?”

He cocks his head. “Yes.”

“I just thought…” I glance behind me at the helipad with the giant M in the middle of it. Facing forward, I say, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Mr. Munreaux’s valet. Now, if you’d—”

“But what’s your name?”

After a brief hesitation, he says, “Edwin, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Edwin.” I hold a hand out to him that he eventually takes with one of his.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“I was kinda hoping I’d get to see Mr. Munreaux land his helicopter.”

Edwin’s gaze barely sweeps over the monogrammed slab of concrete, saying, “Private aviation contributes to the current global crisis.”

“So do motorcycles.” And his boss mass produces those.

With a raise of a wiry eyebrow, he says, “For the time being,” but doesn’t elaborate.

I gesture for him to lead the way, then follow him up the staircase that has a motorcycle statue on each side, into the cavernous foyer with two-story-high cathedral ceilings, and through a hallway to a solid, probably hand-carved, door. He knocks once before announcing my name.

At a voice on the other side replying with, “Enter,” he opens the door to let me in.

The first thing I see is a fireplace I could step inside of without needing to bend down. It’s gotta be at least eight feet tall. Next to it is a painting of the man who definitely founded the most well-known motorcycle company in history. He even posed on one for the portrait so there’s no fucking confusion.

“What was the delay?”

My eyebrows plummet as I turn to face Arthur Munreaux. “Delay?”

“You’re a minute late,” Arthur informs me, his eyes noticeably narrowing on my face, on my scar.

I dip my head just enough that I can still see him while hopefully casting shadows over the top third of my face with my hat’s bill.

“Mr. Brantley was inquiring about yourhelicopter, sir.”

Arthur frowns at his valet, then me. “Helicopters are terrible for the environment, and we’re moving toward a cleaner, greener world, aren’t we?”

There’s an unmistakable bite to his tone that leads me to believe he’s not entirely happy about the progression.

I’m just about to mention the plan his company announced back in November to roll out an electric motorcycle but has yet to produce when Edwin speaks up, saying, “Yes, sir. Sooner than anticipated.”

Arthur smirks. “Much sooner.”

“If that’s all, sir…”

Edwin waits for his boss to dismiss him, giving a half-bow before leaving us alone.

“Take a seat.” Arthur gestures vaguely, so I take one of the two plush chairs in front of his desk, my back to the door.

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