Filthy Beast(82)

“Come on,” he says, “last drink is on me.”

I grin and we start talking about business, but I still have Sadie on my mind as we finish that last drink.

It’s around one in the morning when we finally leave. Chuck gets in his car and heads home, and I have my driver take me back to my apartment. I could just go into the office and sleep there, but I want to shower in the morning and we’re not far from my place.

The driver drops me off and I tip him before heading upstairs. My apartment is like my second home. I spend a lot of time in the office, mostly because I have everything there that I could need. But it’s still nice to have a home that isn’t in the middle of my job.

I take the elevator to the top and step off. I pause outside of my door, cocking my head.

It’s slightly ajar. I don’t remember leaving it open. I frown a little bit and push it open. Maybe one of the people that I hire stopped by, maybe the cook is here or one of the cleaning people. They know I keep weird hours and maybe they figured they’d get an early start or something.

But of course that’s a stupid thought, and it hits me as soon as I’m in my apartment. All of the lights are on, which I know I definitely didn’t do. Who the hell would go to their job at one in the morning, unless they were up to no good?

I pause in my hallway. “Hello?” I call out.

The answer comes back instantly. “In the living room.”

A chill runs down my spine. I don’t recognize that voice. I step toward the table in my entrance way and reach for the drawer. I keep a small gun in there, just a little .22 caliber thing, but it’ll be enough.

“Don’t bother with the gun,” the voice calls out. “I checked already. It’s empty.”

I reach into the drawer, heart hammering, and pick it up. I pull out the magazine and sure enough, it’s empty. Cursing under my breath, I put it back into the drawer and walk slowly toward my living room.

“Who are you?” I call out. “And what do you want?”

“No need to be nervous, Mr. Waller,” the man says. “I’m not here to rob you.”

I relax slightly at the way he speaks to me. I step into the living room and spot the man standing near the wall-sized windows, looking out over the city. He turns toward me, a smile on his face.

He’s in his late forties, maybe ten years older than me. He wears a dark suit, a dark tie, and a white shirt. His hair is thinning and balding in the back, but his eyes are sharp, and he looks like he’s in good shape. He has a square jaw and he clearly works out, though he’s a couple inches shorter than me. If I didn’t now any better, I’d think I could take him. But he doesn’t look like a normal person. I can see it in the way he looks at me.

Plus, normal people don’t break into apartments in the middle of the night just for a chat.

“Who are you?” I ask him again, standing in the entranceway.

He smiles at me and raises his hands, palms out. “My name is Silas,” he says. “I work for the Tillmans. I’m just here to talk.”

I frown at him, but relax slightly. If the Tillmans sent him, that means he’s probably not here to rob and kill me.

But he might be here for something much worse.

“Do you want something?” I ask him.

He smiles slightly. “Interesting. I break into your apartment and you ask if I want something.”

I shrug, playing it cool, and walk to the kitchen. “Might as well be polite. Whisky?”

He nods. “Okay then.”

I pour two glasses and hand him one. I sip mine and eye him. We stand on either side of the kitchen island.

“Well, you probably want to know why I’m here.”

I nod once. “I’d like that.”

“It’s late, so I’ll try and be brief. You seem reasonable, Mr. Waller.”

“Call me Gavin.”

“Okay, Gavin.” Silas puts his drink down on the counter and looks at me, a little smile on his face. “Truth is, Mr. Tillman is very angry about you seeing his daughter behind his back.”

I clench my jaw slightly. “Is she okay?”

Silas smiles a little wider. “She’s fine, as far as I know. Curious that you’d ask.”

“I know your employer can be… harsh.”

“Harsh. Good word.” Silas takes another sip of his whisky. “I’m here to give you a simple message, Gavin. It’s the kind of message that I’m often hired to give, and I really, really hate giving it more than once. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it,” I say, staring at him, anger rising in my throat like bile.

“Stay away from Sadie Tillman. It’s that simple. Stay away from her, and everything will be just fine.”