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Maybe he’d been too pushy when he asked her to dinner, but the words had tumbled past his lips before he had the chance to consider them. What could he say; impulse control had never been one of his strong suits.

She hadn’t said no. Then again, she hadn’t said yes either. But she seemed more receptive to the idea than before, which felt like a step in the right direction. For now, he’d let the matter drop and circle back when the timing was better, and when she had a more positive attitude about him.

It chafed his ass that she’d pegged him for a player. In his mind, player was the equivalent of slut, and he wasn’t a slut, damn it. Sure, he’d slept with a few women—okay, maybe more than a few. And he couldn’t remember the last one who’d been around for more than a month. Big deal. That didn’t mean a thing. Why waste his time with a woman who didn’t grab his interest and keep him coming back for more?

Shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, he tugged the key from the ignition. “Ready?”

Dorcas’s gaze cut to the building, and a flicker of uncertainty shadowed her face. “What if they ask for my ID or something?”

“They won’t.” He offered an assuring smile, the one he used when closing a deal. “Just act like you belong there and no one will question your presence.”

Her lips pursed. “I take it you’ve done this kind of thing before.”

“Not exactly, but something along the same vein.” There was a time in his life when he’d been a good thief. Not a fact he was proud of, but it was what it was. And as a reformed thief, he knew how to keep other thieves away from his clients, a skill that served him well at Six Points. “People are creatures of habit. They tend to avoid confrontations, especially when they’re at work.” He reached for the handle and cracked open the door. “We better get moving if we want to get home before midnight.”

The instant he stepped out of the truck, his sunglasses fogged over. No surprise there; it had to be at least ninety degrees outside, with humidity high enough to make his clothes stick to his skin. As he walked with Dorcas across the lot, he placed one hand at the small of her back and was pleased when she didn’t move away.

They were less than ten feet from the front entrance when a sense of unease crept through him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He stopped, scanned the area, but didn’t see anything to justify the sensation. No suspicious people loitering around and the only car on the street was a silver BMW with dark tinted windows. He’d been mindful of a tail since leaving Orlando, and the car didn’t raise any red flags.

“What’s wrong?” Dorcas asked.

“Nothing, just looking around.” He saw no point in freaking her out over something that was probably nothing. More likely than not, he was just being paranoid. Still, he filed the BMW in his mind for future reference.

Nate opened the door and followed her inside, giving the heavyset guy at the counter a nod as they strode past. As expected, the guy didn’t blink twice at their presence. He and Dorcas rode the elevator to the third floor and followed the signs to 347, one of the smaller units with an orange, two-and-a-half-foot metal rolling door.

Dorcas hitched her big, bulky purse higher on her shoulder. “I don’t know why, but I thought it would be bigger.”

Nate snorted. “That’s what she said.”

Twisting her neck, she shot him a look. “You did not just say that.”

“What? It wasright there.” He grinned, and his pulse kicked up a notch when she grinned in return. “Always laugh when you can, babe. It’s the best medicine around. Do you want the honors, or would you rather I unlock it?”

“I’ll do it.” She fished the key from her purse and used it to open the padlock. Then she rolled up the door and flipped the switch to turn on the light inside.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting: gold bars, cash. A whole bunch of drugs. Hell, maybe even a giant map with anXto mark the location of buried treasure. But the single box tucked in the back left corner of the unit somehow seemed anticlimactic. From the markings on the side, it used to hold vodka, the top sealed with silver duct tape.

Dorcas stepped into the room that was no bigger than a walk-in closet, her gaze fixed on the box. “What do you think’s in it?”

“I have no idea. Only one way to find out.” He should have thought to bring a knife or box cutter with him. There was one of each in the tool box in the bed of the truck, but he didn’t feel like going out to get it. Instead, he used a key on his ring to hack through the tape, and then peeled back the flaps.

Papers. Lots and lots of papers. Nothing was bound by clips or staples, as though it had been packed in a hurry. From what he could tell, they were ledgers of some sort, but everything was written in numerical code, so he had no idea what they meant.

“She came all this way to hide paperwork?” Disbelief marked Dorcas’s voice. “Why would she do that?”

“Considering what happened to her house—and yours—she probably wanted to make sure it wasn’t found. Look at this.” He held up a plastic toy crab that he’d found between the piles of paper.

A smile touched Dorcas’s lips as she took it from him. “This was one of her favorite toys when she was a kid.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I have no idea. Maybe she was feeling sentimental when she packed the box.”

“Could be.” His gut said no, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue, especially since he didn’t have any better ideas. At the bottom of the box, he found a silver flash drive. “Does this look familiar?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen it before.”

Nate was dying to know what kinds of files it contained, but neither of them had brought a laptop along, so they were shit out of luck until they returned to Orlando.