Page 48

“You’re about to restructure your entire business. It would be a good idea to move those calls to a landline and keep your personal number private.”

He’s probably right.

I study the text message. “NIHA can track Ethan’s phone number if he calls me, right?”

“Absolutely.”

I pull my eyes from the disconcerting text. “I think I know how you can find Alfred.”

NIHA’s Miamioffice is larger than the Glenwood Springs branch, but it still has that generic business sort of appearance from the outside. With its large glass windows, cracker-box shape, and low-maintenance landscaping, people driving by probably mistake it for an insurance office or the billing department of a medical group. That’s where the similarities end.

Inside, everything is modern and new, and we have to walk through a security station, complete with metal detectors, after we enter the doors.

We’re now tucked into a back room, surrounded by people who seem entirely too eager to be working overtime.

“All right, Piper,” Harold says after he’s set up his techy gadget stuff. Apparently, he’s important, but I’m not sure what his official job title is. “We just need you to keep Ethan on the phone for as long as possible, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Give us just a few more minutes to make sure everything is good to go, and then we’ll have you text him.”

I nod, nervous about my part in this. When Harold turns his attention to a man sitting at the desk next to him, I study the space. The room is filled with computers, and a quiet buzz accompanies the clacking of keyboards, the shifting of rolling computer chairs, and a few quiet conversations.

Even though it’s past dinnertime, and the rest of the building emptied an hour ago, there are ten men in attendance, all dressed in slacks, button-ups, and ties like they’re about to go to a meeting.

They wear badges hanging from lanyards with their names and pictures on them. Noah and Cassian have them as well, but I just have an adhesive visitor tag stuck to my shirt, with my name written on it in permanent marker.

“How’s your coffee, Mr. York?” asks a man with a slight Cuban accent, nodding toward the white mug he handed Noah not even three minutes ago.

“It’s great.” Noah takes a sip as if to prove it.

“I can make you a fresh cup if you’d like.”

“This is fine for now,” Noah assures him. “I’ll let you know when I need a refill.”

“Stop harassing him and get back to work,” Harold tells the young man, making a shooing motion with his hand. “Sorry about that, Mr. York. You just let me know if anyone’s pestering you, and I’ll take care of them. Are you comfortable? It’s a little warm in here. Should we call in someone from the janitorial team to turn down the thermostat?”

Noah’s expression dances somewhere between amused and annoyed. “I’m good, thanks.”

From the way the men are fawning over Noah, practically tripping over themselves to help, it’s obvious he’s a big deal in the organization. Maybe a bigger deal than I realized. Add Cassian to the mix, and you’d think I showed up with a couple of celebrities.

It’s kind of fun, though a bit baffling.

“People don’t treat you like this in Glenwood,” I whisper to Noah while Harold is preoccupied.

“I started there right out of high school.” A cocky grin ghosts over his face as he drops his voice. “Everyone knows me too well to give me the honor I deserve.”

“Careful, you sound like Cassian.”

Speaking of the vampire prince, he walks in from the hall, closes the door, and surveys our progress.

“How’s it going?” he asks when he joins Noah and me.

“I think we’re just about ready to begin,” Noah answers.

And he’s right. Not even a minute later, Harold finishes his conversation and turns his attention back to me. “Okay, Piper. We’re ready. Go ahead and text Ethan.”

Even though this was technically my idea, contacting Ethan feels gross. But I do as I’m told, texting the unknown number and asking my stalker to call me.