Page 8 of Devious Corruption

“I’ve heard of him.” He plucks. “If this is the wrong key, we’ll need to find another way in.”

“Vee is the only one I gave a spare key to, and my brothers are out of town until tomorrow. The landlord won’t come out. I guess I can call a locksmith. They can probably— what are you doing?”

Lev reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small black case—sleek, compact, and clearly not his first time using it.

“Why do you have lock picks in your jacket?”

He kneels in front of the door, not bothering to answer me. The case opens with a practiced flick of his thumb. Several tools are lined up, ready to go to work.

Marion wiggles in my arms, so I put her down. Shesnakes her way between him and door, sitting between his legs and looking up as though to watch him work.

“You’re locked out of your apartment; I brought them in case the key didn’t work.”

He inserts the tension wrench and the pick, tilting his head slightly as he listens for the pins. It takes him less than ten seconds. Joey’s been able to do it in half a minute, and I’d thought that was quick.

When the deadbolt finally gives, Lev stands and pushes the door open like it was never locked to begin with.

“There. Now you can stop looking like a stray locked out in the rain.”

“I didn’t look like that.” I can’t help bristle at the obvious snark at my appearance.

The jeans and blouse I wear to work may not be the level of sophistication he’s used to seeing. But unlike him, I’m not rolling around in ill-gotten money piles.

“You were asleep on the floor in the hallway when I found you.” He remarks as he replaces the picks into the case.

“I fell asleep waiting for you, that’s all.” I bend down to scoop up Marion, but she sees me coming for her and rushes off into the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom.

“How’d you manage to get locked out anyway?” He questions, blocking me from entering.

“My brother has my key; he forgot to leave it for me.” I gesture to the open door. “Are you going to let me goinside? Or did you have more questions about things that are none of your business?”

He twists to the side, leaving me with enough room to brush past him and into my apartment.

“Are you not going to thank me?” He moves into the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame so I can’t close the door.

“Of course. Thank you for your help.” I drop my purse onto the small table by the entrance and grab the door like I’m going to shut it, so he should move.

He scans my apartment over my shoulder, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes.

“What the hell is that?” He gently pushes me out of his way and stomps into my apartment.

“Lev, you can’t just barge in here.” I slam the door shut so Marion doesn’t go on one of her little adventures while I’m dealing with this overgrown toddler who has no recognition of personal space or boundaries.

“What the fuck are you doing with one of these?” His voice nearly shakes the floor with demand from the kitchen.

Unsure of what he’s talking about, I follow him. “Why do I have what—the fuck is that?”

In his hands he’s holding a gun. The anger in his eyes looks hot enough to shoot more than bullets.

“It’s a Glock 18.” He checks the magazine, and his eyes go molten. “It’s a fully loaded Glock 18, and it’s sitting on your kitchen counter. How did you get this?”

Good question. How did it get in here?

She’s about to lie.

I’m not sure if she knows it, but I do. She’s tucked the tiny corner of her mouth between her teeth. It’s her tell.

“Put it down.” She presses her hands against the countertop of the narrow island separating the kitchen from the living room and tries to glare at me.