When He's Bad (Walker Security Adrian’s Trilogy #2) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,54

that doesn’t mean they’re not dirty.”

“Because Pitt was an agent and he might have been dirty.”

“Considering he’s dead, I’d say someone close to him was dirty. We just don’t know, Pri. Out of an abundance of caution, I’d rather you avoid these assholes until we have credentials and background. Stay in your office. Lucifer will meet them in the lobby. I’m headed to the back stairwell in case you need to leave quickly.”

“Leave quickly? Oh God. That sounds bad.”

“We’re being cautious, that’s all. If Lucifer gets a bad vibe, he’ll send you to me to be safe. Just stay away from the situation until Lucifer gives the thumbs up.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m in the bathroom right now. I’m right by the elevators. Do I have time to get out of here?”

“If you go now,” he orders. “Right now.”

“Going now,” I say, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

With adrenaline pumping through me, I rush to the door, push my way out, and just as I would enter the lobby, Grace exits the elevator. She’s holding four trays of coffee. “Help.”

I hurry to grab a tray—because what can I do?—and I start for the door ahead of her. Cindy exits from the lobby right then and rushes toward us, blocking my path in the process. “There you are,” she says, grabbing a tray from Grace. “You crazy girl, Grace,” she scolds. “I told you I would go with you.”

“You were busy,” Grace replies from behind me.

Cindy is still in front of the door. Grace is now at my right.

“Pri.”

At the sharp tone in Lucifer’s voice, I intend to step around Cindy, but somehow Cindy precedes to literally spill the entire tray of coffee she’s holding. I jump back and drop my own tray. It’s a disaster. Cups slam to the ground and coffee splatters across the floor and all over my legs, thankfully missing my clothing. The elevator dings, two doors open and the two men, the “FBI Agents,” both in basic blue suits, step out of the car.

I turn to face them. “Sorry. We’ve made quite the mess of the hallway. Can we help you?”

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Cindy is chanting behind me. “How did this happen?”

“I’ll get towels,” Shari screams from the now open lobby doors. “Pri, don’t step backward. There’s a puddle.”

“Pri Miller?” One of the men queries.

Thank you, Shari, for announcing my name, I think.

I could run for cover, I could. I know this and I would absolutely prefer Lucifer screen these men, but there are three innocent women fretting over coffee right here with me. I will not allow them to become targets. “I’m Pri,” I confirm. “A little occupied right now, but what can I do for you?”

That’s when I realize Adrian is still in my ear, “What the hell are you doing, Pri? I said to avoid those assholes, not talk to them.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

PRI

The two men—aka “assholes,” as Adrian calls them—step a little closer, too close for comfort. One is bald, forty-something, stocky. The other is taller, with dark, curly hair and hard features that include an incredibly straight nose. The tall one shuts the door. The shut door sets off alarms. I set my phone down.

“Agents Williams and Davis,” the stocky one announces. “I’m Williams. He’s Davis. We want to talk about Agent Pitt.”

Lucifer steps to my side, ensuring I have a clear path to the lobby. “I’m Lucifer Remington, with Walker Security. I’m handling Pri’s personal security. First and foremost, I’ll need to see your ID.”

Williams’ lips pucker, but he reaches into his jacket and flips open his badge over to display his ID. Lucifer shoots a photo of it, before eyeing the other agent expectantly. The process is repeated.

Lucifer sends the photos to someone that I assume to be Blake.

“Can we go inside and talk a minute, Ms. Miller?” Agent Williams asks, giving me a pointed look.

“No need,” I say, glancing over at Cindy and motioning her toward the office. She gives a nod and begins herding the other two women toward the door. Satisfied my staff are about to be out of the way, I return my attention to the agents. “Agent Pitt was working with me on a highly sensitive case, and as much as I want to help, that limits my conversational freedom, as you can imagine.”

“When an agent is murdered, it’s highly sensitive, as you can imagine,” Williams’s snips. “He was a personal friend, Ms. Miller.”

Adrian speaks in my ear, “He’s telling the truth. He