Chapter 32
Molly was surprised to find the same guy who’d met her at the reception behind the desk again. They’re making you work nights as well?
The man shrugged. I take my job seriously.
Good. Molly nodded, as if that was going to make a positive difference to what she wanted to do. Help me out, then. I left my gloves at Mr Buchanan’s office the other day, and I need them.
I’m afraid I can’t do that. We don’t let people in without an appointment. The answer was delivered in such a mechanical tone, you’d think he was a robot. Thank you for stopping by.
So this man was playing receptionist but was more like a guard dog. That would explain why a security company didn’t have a booted guard surveilling the place.
Molly bit the inside of her lip. She had to get to that bank of elevators and inside. So she pouted. Pretty please? Those gloves were expensive and a gift. And I’ve been all over town hunting for them. Look, perhaps you can take me upstairs and help me search.
The more she rambled, the less inclined the receptionist appeared to be to help her. The bastard stepped back. I’m sorry, ma’am. I can ask an assistant to search for them first thing on Monday. Now, I must insist you leave.
Arsehole. This definitely wasn’t a helpful receptionist.
Molly flashed her teeth in an attempt to intimidate him. I will tell Leo how unaccommodating you are. This is just rude!
But in the end, her emotional manipulation didn’t work this time. Apparently, the news of Leo being sacked had trickled down the organisation. Now anyone he’d worked with was on a blacklist.
Molly had two choices. Tuck her tail between her legs and abscond back to Leo’s, or stay and fight.
The mere thought of returning to the house without any information grated on her nerves. The last thing she needed was an I told you so from Leo or his brothers or, worse, a Leave it to us.
Buchanan Security’s headquarters sat by the river, in the new business district that had popped up in Lancefield Quay.
The glass on the buildings here glistened under the dim streetlights.
Artificial swaths of grass added some life to the unimaginative grey pavement.
Benches littered the place, all thankfully empty.
In a business area with little to no pubs or restaurants, the area didn’t have much footfall this late in the night. If she took a seat by any of the benches outside of Buchanan Security either the receptionist/guard dog or the security cameras placed around the property would spot her.
That would be game over.
Molly spotted a sad line of trees on the other side of the road. She could make out the shape of a bench with black metal rods, the typical benches you found in Glasgow’s green spaces.
She strode over to it, looking into her purse as if she needed to sit down and hunt for something important. The bench, she hoped, would give her some privacy and a good lookout at the reception desk. That man would have to take a break or sneak into the loo for a tinker sometime.
Issue was, despite her elastic trousers—formal yet utilitarian—and her thermals, the cold bench under her butt was freezing. She huddled into her jacket, praying she didn’t have to pee before the other dude.
The more time ticked by, the more the wind picked up, pulling tears from her eyes. Molly wondered if she’d turn into a blob of ice they’d have to defrost tomorrow.
When her nailbeds turned blue, despite hitching them into her armpits, she decided she might have to cede defeat.
She’d been about to collect her purse and leave when a car, headlights off, turned the corner.
Ah, the universe had shown mercy on her!
Molly crouched low on the bench, watching the car. It came to a halt outside the Buchanan Security premises, although not right outside the gate, but further along. A man got out of the back, and the car rolled away as silently as it had arrived.
The man carried some sort of briefcase with him. He looked around and, when—thank God!—he didn’t see her, strode off. She had expected him to head into the building, but his confident steps walked away.
She bit her lip. A dude all wrapped up in a scarf and long coat, arriving in a car without headlights, looked suspicious. No way would a Scottish man wrap himself up that well. Even though she might be cold, this was practically taps aff weather for most Scots.
Molly slung her purse over her body, then duck-walked her way ahead, parroting the man’s movements. Her black getup and the dark shadows on the ground camouflaged her from notice, or so she hoped. The last thing she needed was a security guard outing her.
Using another cluster of trees, Molly followed the man’s footsteps. She was trying to be as stealthy as she could. But with the silence so acute that she could hear her hair rustle, there was always a chance—
What took you so long?
She froze. Fuck! That was Johnny.
A long silence followed, but not as deafening. She could hear some shuffling, but she was too far back to see. Gritting her teeth, Molly inched forward, staying low to the ground.
There was another bench, this one facing the Clyde. While it wouldn’t entirely hide her, she had to take the risk. The man and Johnny had gone too quiet.
Molly stepped into the space behind the bench and crouched, using the slits in the body of the bench to spy.
A streetlight on the promenade highlighted the men’s silhouettes. Of course, they weren’t standing under the light, but just in its periphery. If she hadn’t known Johnny, she wouldn’t have recognised him.
Now his head was bent as he studied something. If the man who was standing with his back to her moved, she could see what they were doing. No one met in the dark, in what she assumed was a blind spot, for fun.
She waited, internally urging the other guy to—
He swished around, looking over his shoulder, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him. His eyes scanned the area, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he turned and walked closer, nearing her bench.
And she finally saw his face.
Oh shit, oh shit!
Anger roared through Molly. Was this bastard framing Leo? How the hell had Johnny got to him?
And yet it made sense. She’d been looking for someone with an in, someone who had access to the Buchanans’ gadgets. Someone who would be a lackey for Johnny.
Craig. Leo’s assistant.
She curled her fist, wondering whether she should show herself and smack him.
But Molly had come here on a snooping mission. She hadn’t carried any self-defence tools with her. While she could fight one man, going against two was a bit much, especially when she didn’t have backup.
She chewed her lip, watching Craig near the bench.
What’re you doing? Johnny barked.
Craig was so close, he could take a seat at the bench. Thankfully, he paused. Thought I smelled a woman’s perfume.
Shit! Who was this sniffer dog? They were out in the fresh air, for God’s sake, and she hadn’t emptied an entire bottle of perfume on her.
Johnny laughed. You need to get laid.
Craig took a step back, eyes still studying the area around them. Molly knew the man had good instincts—unlike Johnny, who hadn’t noticed a thing.
Johnny snapped the file in his hand close. This won’t do, Craig.
Craig turned and strode back to the blind spot. Why? He’s the perfect client. He’s got a worldwide network.
Johnny raised the file in the air and smacked it on Craig’s head. It hadn’t been a floppy file either, but something hard enough to make a loud thunk. A network of thugs. We don’t mess with those lowlifes. Get me a politician or at least someone who hides his affiliation with the underworld.
Fuck! Craig clutched his head. That hurt!
For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with you? That boss of yours has made you fucking soft.
It says right here this man’s a sloppy bastard.
He’s been checked by the police a couple of times.
How long until he fucks up and takes us down with him?
Johnny raised the file to strike Craig again, but the man raised a hand and deflected it.
I-I… He’s willing to pay the whole fee upfront. Craig took a step back as Johnny stepped forward. I mean—
I’m not in the business of putting my entire organisation in jeopardy to get one client.
I need the right clients, the sort that bring in good cash.
Now that I have my share in the legit business, it’s time we get Newtar some esteemed clients.
Johnny grabbed Craig by the collar and threw him against the balustrade that kept people from falling into the Clyde.
So don’t fuck it up for me. I need you to find me a client like David Buchanan—someone who appears like a white knight but is a fucking cesspit in reality. Got it?
Johnny didn’t let the man go, tipping him back until his legs dangled off the ground. Fuck with me, and you’ll taste that water, got it? I’ll make sure you’re so bloated when they find you, you can’t even be identified. Prick. Fuck off!
Johnny dropped Craig to the ground, turned around, and stalked away.
How deeply had Newtar sunk its tentacles into Buchanan Security? By the looks of it, Johnny had people close to Leo on the hook.
There was no time to waste. She had to find where Newtar operated from. That would help her stop them or at least slow them down, wouldn’t it?
Molly could only hope.