Page 10 of Taste of Blood
He looks indignant. “I’ll have you know–”
“Mr. Maxley,” I interrupt him. “If you expect me to invest my money in your company, I want to see the books. Otherwise, this meeting is over.”
I turn and walk out the door, pulling out my phone and texting my driver to pick me up out front. Maxley catches up with me at the elevator. I quirk a brow at him, waiting for him to speak.
“I can send the paperwork over to you this afternoon.”
The elevator dings open and I wait for the people onboard to walk past before stepping inside. “To be honest, I’m not sure I want to do business with you.”
With that I press the button for the lobby and smile to myself as the doors slide shut. Benjimen has the car waiting at the curb when I exit the building. I slip into the back seat and pull out my phone.
“Where to, boss?” he asks, saying nothing about the brevity of my meeting.
When I pull up my texting app I spot the thread from last night with Cord. “Head down to Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Any particular place?”
“No. Just drive. I’ll know if I see it.”
I call Elaine and tell her to cancel my one o’clock, then ask for a favor.
“What do you need, Asher?”
“See if you can find a residential listing for a Cord McCallister in Hell’s Kitchen. Call me as soon as you have something.”
“Will do.”
If anyone can find Cord, it’s Elaine. She’s not just my personal assistant, she’s a former black hat hacker. In fact, most of the people who work for me have multiple capabilities. Yes, I’m good at business, but I also believe in making the most of my opportunities. Some of my employees are Clansmen, while others are humans I’ve kept out of jail or other entanglements, and I pay them all extravagantly to buy their loyalty. Dante Fantini might think he’s the big bad around town because he runs the Crimson Guild, but when it comes to true power, I have him beat hands down. I just don’t advertise the fact.
♦ ♦ ♦
True to her word, Elaine comes through for me, and quicker than I would have thought. I direct Benjimen to park in the first open slot down the street from Cord’s building and wait for me.
He glances around and I follow his gaze, noticing the One Hour Parking sign. “How long will you be gone?” he asks.
To be honest, I’m not sure. I don’t know if Cord is home or if he will even let me in his apartment. “Wait an hour. If I’m not back by then, head to the office. I’ll take a cab back.”
He nods as I get out of the car and make my way down the street toward the building, a four-story brick structure with arched windows. Probably pre-war. Just the kind of place I’d expect Cord to occupy. Before going inside I make a detour to the entrance of the parking garage to see if Cord’s car is there. There are about thirty slots, half of which are occupied. I spot the black Chevelle parked next to the door to the lobby. When I step closer, I can feel heat coming off the engine, so I assume he’s been out already this morning.
Or he came home late.
Though he did say in his text last night he was going to bed. It’s been a while since we shared that kind of information, so there’s no way of knowing what he’s actually been up to. Time to remedy that.
I leave the garage and enter the building through the street entrance. The lobby is simple but welcoming, tiled in a beige and black checkerboard pattern. A security guard sits behind the desk facing a bank of monitors and I realize he probably saw me in the garage. He looks up expectantly when I approach, confirming my suspicions.
“I’m looking for Cord McCallister.”
I already know his apartment number, but recognize this man is the gatekeeper and allow him to do his job. I hope this doesn’t mean he’ll call ahead of me, since I’m pretty sure Cord won’t answer his door if he knows it’s me.
“Apartment 310,” he says, then when I look around, adds, “No elevator.”
I thank him and start toward the wide staircase that occupies the back half of the lobby. Apartment 310 is at the end of the hall, likely facing the street. I listen for a moment before knocking on the door. There’s the sound of footsteps beyond, then a bolt being thrown back. When the door swings open, Cord’s neutral expression changes to annoyance when he spots me.
“How the fuck did you find me?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” I reply with my most disarming smile.
We stand there for a moment staring at each other before he sighs and slumps against the door. “What do you want?”
