A pause. Then the sound of metal scraping on metal—the bastard was working the lock.
She darted forward, putting her weight against the door, but Reid was stronger. The frame groaned under the force.
“Move, little dove,” he warned, voice dropping to something darker. “We can do this the quiet way or the loud way.”
“You don’t scare me.”
Lie.
The door burst open with a violent c***k, sending her stumbling backward. Reid stepped inside like he owned the place—black leather cut on his shoulders, Vultures patch gleaming in the low light. His eyes swept over her, sharp and assessing, before locking on with a predator’s patience.
“You look jumpy,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “That’s good. Means you already know this isn’t a social visit.”
She squared her shoulders. “Say what you
