Page 95 of Velvet Chains

Then he went white. “Jesus.”

“Close,” I said. “Try again.”

His mouth opened, then shut. Of course he recognized me. “You can’t be here, Callahan.”

“But here I am.”

He blinked, shaking his head. It took me a second to notice he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Mind if I come in?” I asked.

His hand tightened on the doorknob. He looked down the hall, then back at me. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Walked. Basic motor skill.”

I didn’t move. His gaze flicked to my jacket, as if deciding whether I was armed. Whether he needed to scream. Whether anyone else in this building would give a shit.

“Relax,” I said. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?” he said, voice steadier than I expected.

“The weather,” I said. “What else?”

He hesitated a minute longer, then opened the door wider.

“Fine. Come in.”

I stepped past him, still loose in case he changed his mind. The apartment was larger than I expected, with exposed brick, original crown molding, mid-century furniture that looked like it actually was from mid-century. The only semblance of clutter was one artfully arranged pile of law books on a vintage Parsons butler tray, next to two very tall, very sleek lamps.

“Nice place,” I said. “Who’s your decorator?”

His brow furrowed. “Decorator? I don’t have a decorator. Do you?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It was nice to work with one when I bought my house.”

“I heard about your house,” Alek said, like it was an insult, not a compliment. He walked to the sofa and grabbed a black shirt, slinging it over his head and adjusting it when he put it over his shoulders. He looked at me for a long second before he spoke again. “And you have a very high opinion of yourself if you think you can just show up here.”

I sat down in an expensive chair, watching him. “Like I said. I'm not here to make trouble.”

He didn’t sit. He watched me, still far too quiet. The music was the only sound between us. “Are you listening to Murder on the Dance Floor?”

“What? Look. I’m sure you’re not,” he said dryly. “But you should know: Ruby wouldn’t want this.”

“Ruby doesn’t know what she wants.”

He cocked his head. For a second, he looked angry. Then he just sighed heavily. “And you do?”

I shook my head.

“Not much, but more than she does. I know you’re in bed with the feds.”

Alek’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t waste my time or yours, Callahan.”

“So you’re not in bed with the feds?”

“I’m Ruby’s attorney. Not the feds.”

“Yeah? That why your name showed up on three different filings this week? Two from the Southern District?”