The adrenaline kept Lance awake enough on the drive to the meeting. But as Eric parked the damaged taxi in front of a coffee shop, smiling and humming to himself, Lance’s eyelids became heavy.

Lance blinked and saw the horrified faces of those men again. He’d seen death before. He’d seen men and women alike riddled with bullet holes on the side of the street, only for their bodies to disappear within a day’s time.

He’d always kept walking.

Yet the sight of Eric killing those men in cold blood, the way he enjoyed it, made Lance shift uncomfortably in his seat. He touched his swollen nose, taking glances in the rearview mirror at how purple and blue it was.

He’d gotten off lucky.

“Here we are,” Eric said.

The Grand Brew, the sign in front of the store said, illuminated by lights above the shop. The idea of a nice large cup of black coffee swirled around in Lance’s head as he stared dreamily at the building from the backseat. The last time he’d had coffee was when he was younger and the matron allowed him a small cup every now and then. Those were the only times she’d acknowledged him. Well, that and…

“Wait,” Lance said, his tongue aching. “You don’t own this place, do you?”

Eric laughed. “Oh, Lance, when will you learn?” He faced him. “I own this city. Every building, everything is mine.”

Lance furrowed his brows. “I don’t know how much I believe that.”

Eric sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe not everything, but can’t a guy dream? Besides, I may as well own this place with all the information I get from here. I like to send one of Kaela or Derek’s agents here to order a coffee and just listen to all the conversations they can. You’d be surprised how talkative people can be when they think nobody’s listening. The secrets they try to whisper to their friends over the background noise, not realizing that more than just their friend is listening in… You should try it one day.” He put a hand to his chest. “Eavesdropping is an underappreciated art form.”

Lance glanced at the bloody handkerchief to his right, tempted to throw it out the window and be rid of the images it brought to his head.

“So who are you meeting with?” Lance asked, leaning around the seat to look at Eric, hiding his hands behind the seat to pick at his nails.

Eric’s eyes flashed with excitement. “We are meeting Landreau Corp. More specifically, one of the Landreau brothers himself.”

Lance blinked. “How did you even manage something like that?”

“I have my ways, Lance. I’m a very persuasive person, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Lance felt a sentence bubbling up to his mouth. He knew he should keep quiet. He knew he shouldn’t say the words. But his chest tightened the longer he waited. “Persuasive like you were with those men back there?”

Eric’s smile dropped. He peered at Lance over his shades. “I had every intention of profiting off those fools, you know, but somebody got caught sneaking around. It was either lose a chance to make money or lose you. Where’s my thank you?”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you weren’t going to kill them anyway.”

“I wasn’t,” Eric said with a roll of his eyes. “I was trying to distract them so you could steal that necklace back. When I heard the commotion on the other side of the door, I realized they’d spotted you. I wasn’t about to let them kill an employee of mine, even if it meant killing them.” He sighed. “What did you expect me to do? Blow them a kiss?”

Lance picked harder at his nails. “No, I just…” Some of that copper taste tainted his mouth still, resurfacing the images of that kid in agony, the matron staring at him.

“The world’s not black-and-white, Lancelot, and it sure as hell ain’t gray. It’s just black. Pitch black. And if you can’t dip your toes in the darkness long enough to get the job done, you won’t make it out alive. You should know that as well as I do.”

Lance dug his nails into his palms as he leaned back against his seat. “Thanks… for saving my life.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

Eric chuckled, his smile returning. Lance narrowed his eyes. The dark look on his face had disappeared so quickly, almost as if… he was wearing a mask of his own.

Those dark eyes scanned him, but Lance pretended not to notice, instead looking out at the customers drinking their beverages and eating their pastries.

“I would have thought you were used to death,” Eric said. “It happens like clockwork in the slums.”

Lance kept his eyes pointed at the coffee shop. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Eric huffed. “Those men tried to kill you. They weren’t going to stop. It was going to lead to someone’s death regardless of my actions, whether that be them or someone innocent.” Eric’s stare weighed on him again. “So in a way, I did a good thing. Does that readjust your moral compass?”

Lance ignored him and changed the subject. “So why are you meeting one of the Landreau brothers here, anyway?”

“I want to know what sort of secret project they’re working on,” Eric said, his wicked smile returning to normal.

“And you expect him to just tell you?”

“I expect to find out one way or another. Whether that be convincing him, bribing him, maybe even blackmailing him. But based on my research, this one is more malleable than his brother. The smartest yet the weakest.” Eric chuckled. “And wouldn’t you believe he’s the head researcher on whatever this new drug is?” He hummed. “And there he is, Malcolm Landreau himself, looking like he had quite a hearty breakfast this morning.” Eric’s stare was directed at a corpulent man stepping out of the backseat of a black car, suitcase in hand. His eyes wandered around as he stepped into the coffee shop and sat down at a nearby table.

Eric turned toward Lance. “Showtime.”

He stepped out of the car, and Lance followed, pretending not to notice Malcolm staring at both of them. The setting sun had disappeared behind the clouds once more, and the chilly air sent goosebumps along his skin. It would be dark in a few minutes. Still no rain.

There was a skip in Eric’s step as he pranced into the shop, Lance trailing behind him. They took a seat in front of Malcolm. Lance leaned against the chilled window to keep his eyes from closing.

Malcolm wore a friendly grin, but it was blatantly forced. Either that, or Lance was getting better at this info-gathering business. He wondered, as Malcolm cleared his throat, if that was how easily Eric could see through him.

“Eric, I presume?” Malcolm said, holding his hand out to shake Eric’s.

Eric looked at the hand offered to him, his smile not fading in the slightest.

“Malcolm, I presume?” Eric copied, shaking the man’s hand, his smile finally settling into something more casual and less threatening. Even Malcolm seemed to relax, and he nodded in greeting at Lance.

Lance nodded back with a fake smile of his own then sank into his seat just slightly, wishing he could disappear.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and muffins trailed to him, and his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten all day.

“You said you wanted to discuss business. I believe your exact words were, ‘I can offer you something no one else can.’ If you’re offering funding, I’m afraid we’ve got that covered already.”

“Mr. Landreau, I’m an information dealer. I can give you a significant advantage in the marketing of your new drug.”

Malcolm paused. “How did you—”

Eric nodded. “Information dealing. It’s my job, like I said.”

Malcolm folded his hands together on the table. “Okay… you’ve interested me. What kind of information are you offering, exactly?”

“I’m offering information on the goings-on of other pharmaceutical companies. With a heads-up, you can make their drug first, beat them to it with your expanded resources, and make a much larger profit.”

Malcolm didn’t seem to react to what Eric said, but he brushed his chin with his fingers, obviously hanging on every word.

As if sensing hesitation, Eric continued. “I could also have men of my own sell your medicines for a cheaper price down in the slums. I’d make a little money out of it, and you’d increase your sales exponentially. Inhabitants of the slums can’t afford any medicine otherwise, so pricing it cheaper brings in a whole new demographic.”

A wave of heat surged through Lance. Surely Eric wasn’t going to make him sell this medicine at his store. Lance couldn’t stop his head from whirling toward him. Eric didn’t acknowledge it, but Malcolm raised an eyebrow.

Lance almost opened his mouth to say something, but Malcolm checked his watch then stared Eric directly in the eyes. “So you’re offering to illegally sell any drugs we create and expose the private information of other companies to us. And you expect us to do business with you? How do we know you won’t just give away information about our own company to others? This was a waste of time.”

Malcolm made to stand, but Eric held his hand up, and Malcolm paused.

“Mr. Landreau, drugs are sold on the street all the time, especially in the slums, where nobody can afford insurance. I’m offering a chance for both of us to make a profit and to give you a head start on the production of other medicines.” Eric stood and lowered his voice. “And you don’t think I can’t just reveal information about your company to others, do you? Seems like walking away from a deal this generous would be a foolish mistake. You might just make me angry, and I’ll make a deal with another company. One that may be able to appreciate what I’m offering.”

Eric took a glance around the coffee shop, where no one seemed to notice the brewing tension, just like in Derek’s bar. Lance crossed his arms, unable to shake the feeling that the ripple of emotion that crossed Eric’s face was desperation.

“You must think I’m an absolute idiot to agree to a deal like that. Landreau Corp doesn’t need money, and we certainly don’t need a street hustler’s help. We make our medicines to help people, not to make a quick buck.”

Malcolm made to stand again, but Eric blocked his path.

Lance sank deeper into his chair, just waiting for a repeat of the abandoned building to play out. If something broke out, he would be out of here. No way was he going to allow Eric to leave him here to take responsibility for whatever went down.

Lance winced as something pricked his knee, for only a split second. A mosquito flew out from under the table, and he swatted it down with a grimace. He scratched the now-itchy spot on his knee.

“Help people?” Eric said. “Then why does your company sell cheap drugs for exorbitant prices? Why is your company paying off doctors to push your drugs in any way they possibly can for kickbacks? Why do you falsely advertise almost every single drug you make? I’ll admit it’s impressive how you manage to hide it. You’ve kept it a secret from everyone… except me.” Eric stepped closer, hand firmly on the handle of his cane. His voice grew even quieter, somehow more threatening than if he’d yelled. “So don’t sit here and pretend like you care at all about ethics. Or the law. I want information, and I want money. Your company has both of those in spades. What I’m offering in return is lucrative for your business.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’m not doing business with you.”

Malcolm started to walk away, but Eric blocked him again in one graceful movement. His smile turned threatening, and his eyes grew wild.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to continue discussing business, Mr. Landreau? Would you prefer a sharp ultimatum?”

Eric’s dagger released slightly from his cane, and Malcolm flinched at the sound of metal against metal. Lance sat up straighter in his chair. The tension grew heavy around them, but as far as anyone in the shop was concerned, they were two buddies having a discussion. Eric was positioned so that his blade was just out of sight from everybody but them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Our company is dedicated to the safety and health care of the public.”

“Is that why a journalist and a Landreau Corp employee on the verge of finding out what you’re doing behind closed doors ended up dead in a ditch without an ounce of news coverage?” Eric chuckled. “You’re a conspiracy theory come to life, aren’t you, Mr. Landreau?”

Malcolm swallowed as Eric’s blade slid even farther out of his cane. He was so close to Malcolm that he could whisper and be heard loud and clear. Malcolm shook, and his hands trembled.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Lance eyed the entrance, tempted to leave and be rid of all this.

“Truly, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you try anything, I will have you arrested.” Malcolm’s voice shook.

Eric smiled. “I would love if you did that. I happen to have a personal… investment in the police in Arachna. If I lead them toward a huge pharmaceutical scandal that could make them look good? Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need to deal with you.” Eric’s blade slipped back into its cane. “You’re no less of a criminal than I am, Landreau. I’m a spider, and you’re an elephant.”

Lance dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t resist making a joke, could he?

“Both very intelligent animals. Imagine if we worked together. Maximize profit, maybe even become great friends that sit on the porch in the old folks’ home and reminisce about this very day when you decided to make the right decision and join my web rather than be trapped within it.”

Malcolm looked as if he wanted to spit in Eric’s face as he walked right past him, bumping Eric’s shoulder.

Eric looked murderous, but only for a few seconds before regaining his composure.

“Let’s go, Lance. It appears this deal didn’t go very well. I suppose we’ll just have to do better next time. Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” Lance said absentmindedly, standing as Eric went to the register and spoke to the cashier. “We?”

Eric returned moments later with a box in hand. He offered it to Lance. “A roast beef sandwich. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Lance took the box and returned to the car with Eric. Just as he’d thought, the sun had set, and darkness overtook Arachna.

Eric’s calm demeanor was unsettling, and they were both silent as Lance ate. The sandwich was warm and tender and juicy. It was gone in minutes.

Eric tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, his eyes planted on the road.

“Okay… I’ll admit,” Eric said suddenly, his voice more serious but his smile still wide. “That didn’t go as planned.”

Lance almost laughed, grateful that the darkness hid his expressions from Eric’s borderline omniscient gaze. “Resorting to threats probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“It’s worked before.” Eric shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to find a new way to get to Landreau Corp.”

Something about that sentence twisted Lance’s stomach into a knot. The taxi drove under a streetlamp, the orange light revealing a deep frown on Eric’s face.

Lance held the empty box in his lap. “Is it true that a journalist and an employee died?”

Eric was silent for a long moment. “They were found in an alleyway. Shot dead. Their bodies disappeared from the morgue a few days later. Rotoya, the police chief, said she didn’t know how they disappeared.”

“You believed her?”

“She wasn’t lying.”

“How’d you know they were on the verge of finding something out?”

“Because I hired them.”

Lance’s stomach twisted into a knot. “Why were you so hell-bent on making a deal with a company like that?”

Eric blinked slowly. “A few reasons.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “So give me one.”

“Money.”

Lance leaned his head against the window, looking up at the dark sky. “Don’t you have enough money already?”

“I do, yes.”

Lance was about to ask what he meant when the taxi turned a corner and his store came into view. The walls were covered in a fresh coat of beige and blue paint, almost shining under the light of the streetlamps. Graffiti of a black widow was painted on the wall and over the sliding doors.

Eric had a big grin on his face as he pulled the taxi up to one of the gas pumps and turned to Lance. “What do you think? Spider graffiti isn’t too much, is it?”

Lance stepped out of the taxi and looked it up and down, trying to contain his excitement. He smiled, if only because he couldn’t hide it. “It’s… actually pretty nice.”

Eric got out of the car as well. “You can thank little old me for that one… and Derek’s men, but you know, my money, my orders, my credit to take.”

Lance walked to the doors of the building, which opened by themselves, air blasting down from above. He suppressed a laugh as he stepped through and into the store itself. New bright lights had been put in, replacing the white glow with a yellow one. All the shelves were restocked, the coolers filled, the walls painted beige with a black web pattern across them.

“Here,” Eric said, handing Lance some money. “Taxi needs gas.”

Lance took the money, placed it in his new register, and set the amount of gas Eric could pump with his new machine.

The buttons don’t even stick!

“Where do you get most of your gas business anyway?” Eric mused.

Lance raised an eyebrow, his smile harder to fight with every second. “Almost nobody in the slums. A lot of people come here because it’s cheaper.”

Eric shrugged and stepped out to the taxi.

Lance whirled around and rushed into the back room, finding the design of the web on the walls of the hallway as well. The bathroom held an entirely new mirror, better lighting, and an actual shower.

In the bedroom, Lance nearly fell over at the sight of a brand-new bed, twice as large as his last one, now with an actual bed frame and sheets. Across from it, a dresser sat against the walls, which were painted beige with a blue trim at the top and bottom.

“No way.” Lance turned toward what he’d glimpsed from the corner of his eye. His mouth agape, he stared at the TV sitting across from his bed, a remote placed right in front of it. “Wow,” Lance whispered, looking around at his new room, his smile almost painful. I haven’t watched TV since the orphanage. He sat on the bed, soft as a cloud.

“Someone’s adjusting pretty well,” someone said.

Eric clacked into the room and rested his cane in front of him. “Well… you like?”

“I like,” Lance said, unable to wipe his smile away. “It’s better than I thought it would be after only two days of renovation.”

Eric shook his head. “Well, you’ve had it rough these past few years, so I figured you deserved a bit of luxury.” He glanced at the TV. “But if you really want some luxury, this bad boy actually has cable.”

Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Probably the only TV in the slums that has that.”

Eric shrugged. “Probably the only TV in the slums at all.”

“I…” Images rushed to Lance’s head: those men dead on the floor and Eric threatening Malcolm. But even so, to have all this… “Thank you… You know, for this.” This time, for the first time, those words didn’t hurt to say—didn’t taste bitter or sour in his mouth.

Eric straightened like a proud bird as he looked around at his accomplishment. “I’ll tell Rob and the others that you like it.”

Lance went quiet, letting it sink in. A proper store, a proper room—all those years of getting by, of barely surviving. Maybe things were starting to look up.

Just maybe.

If he was still alive to enjoy it.

As Eric made to leave, Lance stopped him. “Why did you do all of this?”

Eric stopped, and for a moment, Lance was sure he would lose his hand, but Eric turned around with a smile on his face. “Kaela has a limo, a closet full of stylish outfits, and a lifetime supply of alcohol, Derek has more weapons than he knows what to do with, yet you wonder why you have a decent bedroom with a TV?”

Lance tried not to frown as he said, “I just… can’t figure you out.” He wished he could explain, but it escaped him.

Eric hummed as he turned back around. “Just a spider expanding his web.” He chuckled as he stepped down the hall. “And a spider that treats his employees right!”

“I really wish you’d stop calling yourself a spider,” Lance called out to him.

“Never!” Eric yelled back.

* * *

Lance held back a smile. From the moment he awoke in his new bed, to trying his new hot shower, a smile formed on his face and remained until he stepped out of his store. Even as he sat in Eric’s hideout, the overcast morning light shining through the windows, he realized just how foreign the feeling was of stifling a smile for so long.

The sight before him was familiar. Kaela absentmindedly played with her nails and sipped her coffee in the chair to his right, and Derek leaned back in his chair to Lance’s left, biting his lip and staring at the table with his arms crossed. The ominous atmosphere the room had held his first time here was erased. The stone fireplace was dead, the mahogany walls lighter, the curtains drawn back to reveal the street outside.

When he asked about it, Kaela’s eyes flashed like she was about to make a joke. “They can’t see in.”

The door opened, and Eric walked in, humming happily to himself like a father on a Sunday morning. He was holding his cane in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

He seemed rather pleased with himself as he slammed the paper down and sat in his chair, smiling at the three of them. Lance swallowed hard, reading the headline a second time, then a third.

“What the hell?” Kaela said. “Malcolm Landreau, cofounder and head researcher of Landreau Corp, overdosed in an abandoned building in the slums at six thirty this morning. Police are currently investigating.” She scoffed. “Yeah, sure they are.”

“Coincidence is a wonderful thing,” Eric breathed. “It’s quite a shame that Mr. Landreau denied my very generous offer, but it seems that the universe has a way of working things out.”

Lance stared at the paper then gawked at Eric, not bothering to hide his shock. His voice was breathy. “You killed him?”

Eric shrugged with an uncaring grin.

Derek crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat with a deep frown on his face. “Eric… are you sure that was a good idea?”

“Yep.”

Derek furrowed his brows as he looked at the paper. “An abandoned building… like the one those three punks were staying at? Are you trying to pin the blame on them?”

Eric sighed. “That would have been nice, but I’m afraid something didn’t go as planned, and they had to be removed from the equation. My cleaners took care of it… I did leave the bottles and food cartons, however. Who’s to say Malcolm wasn’t staying there every now and then before his untimely death?”

Kaela scrunched her face. “And how is that supposed to be at all believable?”

Eric’s eyes lit up. “It wouldn’t have been if not for the drugs ‘accidentally’ found stashed in the walls.”

Lance’s stomach twisted into a knot as he read the headline again. If someone as high up as Malcolm could be killed and made to look like an accident victim, how easily could Lance be removed from the situation? And why wasn’t he already?

“You’re really desperate to get this deal with Landreau Corp, aren’t you?” Kaela asked after another sip.

“Not desperate,” Eric countered. “Determined.”

* * *

Eric opened his eyes with a gasp, sweat dripping down his face and his body, his chest rising and falling heavily, his heart beating rapidly. He clicked the blade of his cane out, pointing it at whoever had woken him.

He scanned the darkness of the room, but nobody was there.

Eric sighed and sheathed his blade. He swung his legs over the bed, standing in one swift motion, and looked out the window. He cracked it open and let the cool air flood in. The sky had lightened, and a fog had settled over the city. It would be another overcast day, it seemed.

“Another night,” he said to the curtains, “another nightmare.” Among the usual flood of faces and voices, four more had been added to the mix. One haunted him more than the others:

Mr. Malcolm Landreau.

He’d been so scared. An otherwise innocent man, who’d presented no immediate threat to him, was dead because of Eric’s desperation. Even Lance had been able to sniff it out. He was losing his grip.

So things hadn’t gone as planned. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. Having to rethink his approach to Landreau Corp coaxed a groan of frustration from him, but at least he had dirt on the company and a new plan to get into their good graces. He stared out at the city, his city, and scowled at the tallest building, trying to overshadow his business, his operation. Despite Malcolm’s judgmental eyes staring at him while he slept, killing the man had eased that feeling that plagued his mind: the feeling of a loss of control. It nagged him much worse than any nightmare ever could. It would all be worth it in the end. He just needed more time.

Willow’s and Jacob’s deaths couldn’t be in vain.

Eric ran a hand through his blond hair, greasy from rarely being washed.

He would have to dye it again soon.

His heart tired from its beating tirade and slowed, and his breathing steadied. The thrill of the nightmare faded away, and with it, Eric’s alertness. His eyelids became heavy, but a quick look at the clock in his room made him refuse another few hours of sleep. He would have to wake up soon anyway.

Eric reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his flask, and took a long sip from it. The liquid burned as it travelled down his throat, the sensation waking him up. He set the flask back in its place, grabbed a slim metal cylinder, and slipped it into his coat. Never can be too safe.

With another sigh, he gave Landreau Corp one last glance before turning away to get dressed, picking up clothes off the floor and smelling for which ones were the cleanest. His plan brewed and formed in his head, like clouds in the sky. He had to get to Landreau Corp, but he needed one more thing—an extra push, perhaps.

That was all poor Malcolm needed.

And Lance… poor kid was practically thrilled just at the sight of a TV. If he could get another chance with Landreau Corp, the side business of selling their drugs for cheap would make his profits soar. Those lost souls in the slums would do anything for a chance to get proper medicine. Though, he hadn’t expected Lance’s reaction to selling them to be so strong. The glare he sent him back at the coffee shop had burned, especially with those piercing eyes. It had slipped his mind that Lance had sold drugs before, or so his information claimed. It had also slipped his mind that he’d told Lance his parents overdosed in an alley.

Then there was convincing him to abandon his store when the time came. Eric huffed. That would be an adventure.

Dressed in his usual attire, Eric grabbed his revolver from under his pillow and glanced over his cane. He ran his thumb over its body, tracing the silver web laced around the black metal. It was cold, weighty, and powerful. Not a scratch ticked the metal, thankfully.

Eric kicked aside more dirty clothes and empty bottles and left his room, locking it behind him. He clicked his way down the mahogany stairway until he reached the hallway leading to the main room. The sense of power that emanated from the cane intoxicated him. A crooked smile grew on his lips, no doubt mirroring the snarling silver wolf handle with its cold black eyes to match.

He stepped into the main room and lit the fireplace with a match from a box resting atop the mantel, enjoying the warmth in contrast to the cold he’d embraced earlier. He sat down in his chair and stared across the empty table. It wouldn’t be much longer before Derek arrived, as timely as ever. Kaela would slink in late but still ready for business.

Then there was Lance. He would walk in with that casual expression but likely deep in thought about something else. Nervous and unsure.

Eric leaned back, listening to the crackling fire behind him as it calmly waited with him. Before he knew it, the sun had risen, and Derek walked into the room, wearing blue jeans and a gray hoodie.

“Good morning,” Derek said, his voice dripping with respect. “Sleep well?”

“No rest for the wicked,” Eric groaned back.

He stared at the dark wood of the table. Something felt off about today, like the world was holding its breath in anticipation of a disaster. Whatever it was, it put a cold sweat on Eric’s forehead that he casually wiped away. He would handle it. He always did.

He shook the feeling away for now and asked Derek to give him the highlights from the latest information he’d gathered. Derek nodded and reported nothing out of the ordinary.

Kaela walked in holding a coffee cup. She wore a simple white dress with a thin coat over it, her hair curled down to her shoulders. She sat in her chair like it was fragile and crossed her legs with a sip of her coffee.

“White is the color of purity,” Eric said, a playful smile reaching his lips. “How ironic.”

Kaela gave an annoyed grin back. “What’s ironic is that you smile at your own jokes even though they’re not funny.”

“Someone has to smile around here.” Eric grinned back. “Any good info for me?”

Kaela pursed her lips and sipped her coffee again, obviously trying to test his patience. But Eric simply crossed his own legs and set his cane on the table.

“Well,” Kaela started, “as far as we know, Landreau Corp still doesn’t know Malcolm was murdered, so that’s a plus. As far as anyone’s concerned, the poor man just couldn’t take the stress of his job, got a little too high, and killed himself.”

Derek had his arms firmly crossed. He didn’t approve—that much was obvious—yet he said nothing.

“That’s good,” Eric muttered. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” Kaela said. “Everything yesterday was mostly about Malcolm’s death. It was honestly starting to get on my workers’ nerves.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Pillow talk doesn’t usually involve murder.”

“But that’s the best kind.”

“And that’s why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Rob wanted to know what Lance thought of the improvements to the store,” Derek interjected.

Eric chuckled. “He loved it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited to see a television in my life.”

As hard as Lance had tried to hide it, he’d practically trembled with excitement.

Derek smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell Rob.”

The door opened, and Lance walked in. There he was, Eric mused, with that distracted look, like always. Lance pointed his thumb at the door, his face twisted in confusion.

“Everything alright?” Derek asked.

Lance just looked straight at Eric and said, “I think there are people watching the building.”

Kaela went rigid. “Did you lead them here?!”

Derek pulled a pistol out of nowhere. “How many?”

“I don’t know. They were standing on the rooftops. I didn’t know if they were Derek’s agents or not.”

Eric’s heart skipped a beat, but he remained calm and still as he considered the feeling he’d had earlier. His instincts screamed to get everyone out, but despite the panic in his chest, he kept his face calm and uncaring.

“Well, Kaela,” Eric said as thunder rumbled, “it appears your information was incorrect.”

Kaela’s face paled, and her eyes widened, one of the few times he’d ever seen her shaken up. Lance closed the door, locked it, and stepped away.

The room filled with tension. Derek pointed his pistol at the door. “Eric… what are we gonna do?”

Eric opened his mouth to speak, swallowing his panic. “Lance, you need to—”

The door blew open.