The elevator doors hadn't even fully opened when I saw him.
Anthony slipped through the gap before the brass edges finished parting, eyes already scanning the lobby. Dark jacket, boots laced loose, twin blades slung across his back like the handles were born there. He looked out of place among the polished tile and ambient string music playing softly from the overhead speakers—like someone who'd walked off a warzone and into a museum. It was the first time I saw him look so serious and without his usual Hawaiian shirt.
His eyes locked on me.
"Boss."
I exhaled. Just once.
"You alright?" he asked, crossing the marble in three long strides.
"Physically, yes." I reached into my coat and pulled the burner from my inner pocket. "Mentally? We'll get there."
We turned away from the lobby's open space, stepping into the narrow side hall beside the security office. Soundproof. Private.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.
I handed him the phone.
