Paul Rogers, my PI, walked into my office wearing his typical stern expression. Sometimes I wondered if the man ever smiled.
Without waiting for an invitation, he sank into the seat opposite me and placed a brown envelope on my desk. I leaned back in my chair, making no move to touch it.
"Paul," I acknowledged.
"Zephyr," he replied, crossing his legs and nodding toward the parcel. "That's the information you requested."
"Appreciate it." I kept my eyes on the envelope but didn't reach for it.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"I will. Just not yet."
"May I ask why?"
As much as I wanted to find out the identity of the mole leaking company secrets to our rivals so I could deal with them accordingly, I wasn't in the mood to handle that kind of stress at the moment. The information could w
