I leaned back against the rusted siding of the warehouse, hidden by a stack of discarded shipping pallets, and suppressed a derisive snort. To think that Lucas Park, a man who carried himself like a gritty underworld veteran of the neon nightlife, was reduced to such a pathetic, fumbling display in a filthy shed. His "technique" was as lackluster as his professional integrity. It was almost laughable.
"We can't keep doing this," Sarah, the lead accountant, whispered as she disentangled herself from Lucas’s sweaty, suffocating embrace. She began frantically smoothing out her wrinkled skirt, her breath still coming in shallow, jagged hitches. "My husband gets back from his business trip tonight. He’s been gone for three days, and according to our usual routine, he’ll be expecting me to 'pay
