Thankfully, my brain clicked over into work mode as I pushed the door open, and I headed straight to my desk and set my coffee cup down before waking my computer up.
"Is what's on that computer more important than your life?"
The unexpected yet very recognizable voice caused me to knock my coffee cup over. While the lid managed to prevent the contents from spraying over everything, my arm still got doused with a hefty splash of the hot liquid. "Fuck!" I shouted as the coffee soaked through my jacket and shirt and began to burn my skin. Thankfully, the fabric was thick enough to prevent any significant pain. My heart raced as I searched out the source of the voice.
He was sitting in the middle of my office on the white leather sofa. Like the night before, he was all dressed in black. And yet, somehow, I had managed to miss him yet again. How was that even possible?
I hated the fear that reverberated through me. In my mind, I knew that the guy wasn't there to hurt me, but I still couldn't shake the memory of that gun being pointed at me. The man's dark eyes met mine and I saw something flicker in them for a brief moment before it was gone.
"Good," he said as he climbed to his feet. Despite his size, his moves were graceful. "Remember this feeling—the one that reminds you that no matter how hard you try, you aren't always in control."
His words hit so close to home that I could hear that ringing sensation starting in my ears again. Somehow, though, I managed to tamp down on the unwanted sensation. I reached for the handset on my phone. I fully expected the man, Falkov, to stop me from dialing, but he did nothing more than stand in front of my desk, his arms behind his back and his feet slightly separated. The stance had a very military feel to it.
"Yes, Mr. Archer? Can I help you?" the operator asked.
"I need security in my office now," I ordered. I kept my eyes on the man across from me waiting for that moment when I'd see him unnerved, but he didn't react at all.
At all.
"Yes, sir," the operator said and within a few seconds, the security guard who'd been outside my suite threw open the door to my office. He had his walkie-talkie in one hand and a gun in the other. But to my surprise, he didn't point it at Falkov. Instead, he looked at me.
"Sir?" he asked.
So much for the improved security.
"Call the police," I said pointedly as I looked at Falkov.
The security guard looked confused. "Mr. Archer, sir, Mr. Falkov has permission to be in the building."
The statement caught me off guard and when I looked at Falkov, the man had the nerve to point to a visitor ID badge on his lapel.
What the hell was going on? I tried to salvage any hold I had on the situation and said, "Fine. He doesn't have permission to be in my office. Escort him out." When the guard didn't move quickly enough, I added, "Now!"
"That'll be all, Jenkins," Falkov said. He moved toward the guard and glanced at his watch. He nodded and then the guard did too. It seemed like some type of silent communication happening between them that I couldn't make sense of.
The guard left and Falkov closed the door behind him. Unfortunately, the man was still on my side of the door. It was only when he stepped away that I noticed the new hardware on the door. Someone had actually installed a deadbolt on it.
"What's going on?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Twelve hours ago I had a gun pointed at your chest. And yet the first thing you see when you walk through that door isn't the man who threatened your life the night before, but this," Falkov said as he ran his fingers along the top of my computer monitor. Then, to my surprise, he flicked it backwards and the whole thing fell off the desk. Cords and papers went flying along with it. Since I knew the man was baiting me, I didn't react though inside it felt like a bomb had gone off.
I knew what this was. Round two of the game he’d started last night.
I reached for the phone again but this time before I could dial, Falkov said, "Don't bother. He won't answer."