The locksmith’s shop was tucked between a vape store and a payday loan office, the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it—and sometimes even if you were. The sign on the door read: “Joe’s Lock & Key: We Break In So You Don’t Have To.” A smaller sign underneath added, “No questions asked. Unless you’re cute.”
Claire pulled the door open without knocking, calling over her shoulder, “Let me do the talking. Joe’s… particular.”
The bell jingled overhead as they stepped into a room that smelled like metal, cedar, and just the faintest trace of leather and cologne. It was unnervingly pleasant.
Then he appeared—from behind a bead curtain, of course—with rolled-up sleeves, tousled dark hair, and a slow, crooked grin that could’ve melted a padlock. He looked like he belonged in a
