Chapter Thirty-Seven
The door of an elevator opened. Mya strode in. “These shoes aren’t made for walking, let alone running. You owe me this one, Lorcan.”
On the floor, Lorcan looked up at Mya. She was stunning. Her skin radiant, her hair flowing, and gorgeous in those high heels. She looked different from the day he’d met her in the backyard in Mortlake.
“I won’t touch your subject, you won’t touch mine,” the old man croaked. He released Lorcan. Lorcan stood up and grabbed Orla.
“You made it, Mya. Do we have the deal?” Lorcan asked her.
Orla frowned.
Mya nodded. “Yes, we’ve got it. You’ve got what you asked for.” Lorcan grinned.
The old man growled.
“Where and when?” Lorcan asked.
“Down below. Now.” Mya pointed at the broken glass wall. Lorcan cautiously peeked over the edge and
