Why?
Turning my attention to the other man, I rack my brain, trying to figure out if he’s someone from the hospital. Maybe that would help me understand.
I know I’ve seen him around; I just don’t remember where.
My time to wonder about it is up when Alaric raises his hand, reaching for the keypad by the metal door.
Lightning fast, I pull my phone from my jeans pocket, zoom in on the numbers, and hit record. The night vision on this thing is incredible. I’ll have to thank Hope later for convincing me to get a new one after both of ours had basically died.
Actually—no. I can’t thank her. I can’t tell her any of this.
Alaric’s secrets are his. And mine, too, it seems. I won’t risk his freedom or drag Hope into this.
Once the two men disappear and the door clicks shut behind them, I count to ten.
And…I go.
The fall wind whips at my face as I hurry toward the keypad, then stop halfway.
Fuck, I forgot there might be security cameras.
Alaric could explain why he’s dragging the guy inside without raising any red flags. A drunk friend. A favor. Something the doorman wouldn’t question.
Me? I have no excuse to be here.
Hating that I’ve already lost precious seconds of following him, I glance up, then back at the door.
Nothing. No cameras anywhere in the back, just like in my building.
Relief washes over me as I head for the keypad and enter the code.
Quietly, I pull the door open and step inside. This area of the building is dim, lit only by the weak glow spilling from the lobby farther down the corridor and the short flight of stairs nearby.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which way Alaric went. And so, I start down the stairs.
Sounds drift up from the basement. The dull thud of something heavy being dragged. A rough huff.
“Shut up,” Alaric hisses, confirming what I already knew. He hates the guy.
A moment later, the sounds stop.
Keys clink together.
A lock slides open with a softclick.
Adrenaline floods my blood by the time I hear the whoosh of the door being pulled open.
One…
Two…
I move down the stairs quickly, careful to keep my steps light.
Another important life lesson brought to me by Mom. Being stealthy and invisible around our apartment probably saved me from a beating or two. Or a dozen.
Just as the storage unit door slides shut, my feet land on the corridor’s concrete floor. From there, I tiptoe closer and stop in front of the tenth unit down the hall, the one that just closed a second ago.
His.