two of you will have to miss the splendor of the hotel lobby and join me in the employee elevator.”
“Well, damn,” Mason said. “I wore this monkey suit for nothing.”
That wasn’t really true. Our attire was more for the man who called this meeting than for a show of wealth in the hotel common areas. Sunlight disappeared as Garrett pulled the SUV into the parking garage of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. As we’d done before, a flock of Sparrows arrived last night to set up and secure the hotel suite.
Unlike any of our previous meetings, this gathering had been called by Top himself. He’d communicated through the private secure network of the Order. His message had gone to Mason, saying he had information and wanted to meet in person. The two of them worked out a date and time. That was two days ago. The birth of Edward Kelly along with the abduction of his sister caused us to delay the meeting until today. If there was good news to share, it was that the entire Kelly family was safe at home in the glass tower.
With Mason and me on each side or in front and back of Sparrow, depending on where we were, we navigated our way to the back elevator. A Sparrow was waiting with the necessary access code to escort us up to the same suite we’d used nearly a month before.
As we approached the double doors, they opened inward.
“Walters just arrived,” Romero said as he reached for the second door to the suite. “He’s inside.”
Sparrow’s neck straightened. “The meeting isn’t for another forty minutes.”
“I’m aware, boss. I sent a text to Garrett, and he said you were on your way up.”
Sparrow’s nostrils flared as his dark gaze came our direction. His voice lowered. “Well, fuck. Walters asked for you, Reid. And Mason” —he took a breath— “I know Walters has the ability to push your buttons. No matter what is said, my word is final.”
It wasn’t exactly a rousing pep talk before a ballgame. There were no high fives or shouts of impending triumph. By arriving early, Walters was asserting his dominance in a game where mutual admiration was the only means to victory.
Mason and I both nodded as Romero opened the second door leading to the suite.
As we filed inside, Edison Walters stood, tugging his suit coat and straightening his shoulders. Each time we met, I assessed his appearance, noting that he appeared older than the time before. Today it was more than wrinkles or gray hair. There was something in his composure that seemed a bit off even given my inexperience with the man.
“Mr. Walters,” Sparrow said, walking toward him and extending his hand.
Shaking his head and not accepting the customary handshake, Walters cleared his throat. “Senator Jackson will be expecting the donation to his PAC that was mentioned by your assistant.”
Sparrow stopped, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “That isn’t the reason for this meeting. We’re here because you called us.”
“My schedule has your name on it, Mr. Sparrow. That’s a precarious closeness to a known criminal that I’m not comfortable maintaining.”
What the fuck?
“Mr. Sparrow is a renowned businessman, Mr. Walters,” Mason said, emphasizing his name. “If your secretary incorrectly identified him as anything other than such, the problem is with your office, not Mr. Sparrow.”
Walters reached for his phone. “I will assume you haven’t seen the news coming from Chicago.” After pulling up the story he wanted, Walters handed his phone to Sparrow. “This coming to light the day of my meeting with you is unfortunate.”
Sparrow read the news brief. With each passing second, an icy chill of emotionless composure emanated from his being. I knew Sterling Sparrow well enough to know that his lack of display was hiding a fury within.
His chin rose. “You’re right. I hadn’t seen that.” Sparrow handed the cell phone back to Walters. “When did this story break?”
“Thirty minutes ago,” Walters said. “I came over here immediately.”
“I can assure you that story has no bearing on our meeting nor is it accurate.”
I was usually the person with the information. I was the one who scoured the internet and news feeds. Being on the outside, literally and figuratively, as the one without knowledge and uncertain as to what they were discussing was not a place I enjoyed inhabiting.
My phone within my breast pocket vibrated. From his reaction, I believed Mason’s had too. My skin crawled with the desire to check my phone, to know what was