When he released her lips, his dark eyes were darker. Her heart thundered in her chest and the area at the apex of her thighs dampened with raw need. She’d never experienced such a vortex of emotion for any man.
Cruz locked eyes with her, that inscrutable expression he liked to wear firmly planted on his face. For a split second she thought he was about to say something, but his lips firmed.
And then he was gone.
18
Cruz and Raheem watched the storage facility from an empty lot across the street. They’d been there over an hour, observing the activity in and out of the fenced property.
The businesses on either side were already closed this time of night, and at the back of the facility there were warehouses—also closed with no visible activity within.
They had two minor problems to circumvent. To get onto the property, customers had to pull up to the gate and punch in a code to make the gate slide open. The other issue was the camera over the front door, which led into the office they needed to break into.
A white SUV pulled out of the lot and drove away. Based on what they’d seen before, there wouldn’t be another vehicle for at least ten minutes.
“You ready?” Cruz asked.
“Born ready,” Raheem answered. He pulled a skullcap low on his head and picked up a brown bag made of worn, cracked leather from the floor.
Both dressed in black, they exited the vehicle and waited on the sidewalk until a car passed before they ran across the street and jogged along the chain-link fence that enclosed the lot. Once they were in a dark area with limited visibility from the street, Cruz pulled himself up the fence while Raheem kept an eye out. Cruz landed lightly on the other side, and then Raheem climbed over while he stood watch. They took off for the front, staying in the shadows and hugging the long building which held multiple units.
At the end, Cruz peered around the corner, and headlights swept the front as a yellow car turned toward the gate. He pulled back out of sight, pressing flush against the brick. They’d wanted to be inside the office before the next car arrived. They listened to the gate scrape open on rusty wheels, and then the vehicle drove in. As luck would have it, the driver went down another row.
“We don’t know how long they’ll be here. I say we go in,” Cruz whispered. He would have preferred that there be no one in the yard, but that renter could be back there for a long time. Better to take their chances to get the information they needed.
With a curt nod, Raheem confirmed that he agreed.
Cruz peered around the corner again to make sure they didn’t have more visitors. The street out front was empty. He pulled a miniature can of black spray paint from the front pocket of his jeans. The container was small, only about three inches long with the circumference of a tube of lipstick. It was used as touch-up paint but would serve another purpose tonight.
The camera was angled toward the front door, which meant he was in its blind spot coming from the opposite direction. He stood out of sight underneath and, careful to keep his hand out of view, sprayed the paint upward over the lens, blacking out its line of sight.
Dropping to his haunches, he pulled two simple tools from the lock pick set in his back pocket and opened the door. He’d already jammed the frequency for the alarm system while they were across the street, so now they had no additional barriers to entry.
With a low whistle, he signaled to Raheem that the door was open, and they both slipped inside. The office was small and dark, but light came in through the window from a light post on the street. Staying in the shadows against the wall, Cruz kept an eye on the outdoors. They didn’t anticipate anyone from the company showing up because no one watched the camera’s live feed. A small outfit like this would rely on recording the security footage. They likely wouldn’t notice anything was wrong with the camera outside unless they paid close attention to it or someone had a reason to review the recorded footage.
Raheem went behind the counter and connected an electronic box to the computer. A red light came on. Cruz had no idea what that device was called, but what he did know was that it would help Raheem hack into the system.
“What’s the deal with Shanice?” his friend asked.
“What do you mean?” Cruz kept his eyes focused on the street outside.
“She’s a looker. I’m wondering if she’s single.”
That drew his attention. It was no secret how much Raheem enjoyed women. He was a veritable ladies’ man. “Why?”
His friend glanced up at him. “Thinking about taking a chance on her since you don’t seem to want to mix business with pleasure this time. I don’t put those kinds of limitations on myself.”
That much was true. Raheem had left a string of broken hearts around the world.
“You’re a regular Romeo,” Cruz said dryly.
He’d had a hard time walking away from Shanice tonight and wasn’t used to the type of conversation they’d had before he left the motel. He and the men and women he sometimes worked with cared about each other, but only as it related to the completion of a mission. They had to work together and cover each other’s back.
What she had expressed back there was…different. Genuine concern that had little to do with his ability to help her fully understand what happened to Dennis and why. She had been concerned about Cruz—as a person—and that was a different sentiment altogether. His chest tightened as he reflected on her words. Please be careful.
“Do you mind if I make a move on her?” Raheem asked.
“Yes, I do.” Cruz returned his attention to outside the window.
“Why would you mind?”
Irritation billowed up inside him. “Mind your fucking business and finish the job,” Cruz snapped.
Raheem laughed softly. He’d recognized Cruz’s feelings for Shanice and baited him, and Cruz had fallen for the bait.
“We’re in.”
The red light had turned green and Raheem disconnected the machine from the computer. “Dennis Ray,’ he mumbled to himself as he typed.
At the sound of a car’s engine, Cruz returned his attention to the window. He eased out of the line of sight and watched the yellow car leave. Without having to be told, Raheem had ducked behind the counter.
When the gate was closed, Cruz said, “They’re gone.”
Raheem stood and quickly tapped his fingers across the keyboard. “Got it. Unit 1120. That all we need?”
“That’s it.”
Raheem logged off the computer and they left, locking the door on the way out. They went down a far row until they came to 1120. Cruz picked the lock and yanked the rolling door upward.
They slipped in and rolled the door back down.
Raheem turned on his flashlight, and they stared at the only item in the tiny unit—a cardboard bankers box.
“This is it?” Raheem asked.
Cruz walked across the dusty cement floor to the box and crouched down. “He wasn’t storing any personal belongings here, which means he’d gotten this facility for the sole purpose of hiding his research.” He removed the lid.
Shining the light inside, they picked out notebooks and files stuffed full of papers and photos.
They took their time combing through them. The first two folders didn’t have anything to do with Logan Investors, but when Raheem turned several pages of the third folder, he said with a burst of excitement in his voice, “Check this out.”