“The building is secure, sir,” Victor said, opening Arthur’s door.

Arthur stepped out of the vehicle, his movements stiff and guarded.

I followed him, my legs feeling heavy from the sudden drop in adrenaline.

We took a private elevator straight to the penthouse loft.

The elevator doors opened directly into a minimalist living room.

The floors were dark hardwood, and the furniture was low and modern.

Large windows looked out over the Hudson River, the rain streaking the glass.

“Sit down,” I told Arthur as soon as the door closed behind us.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he walked over to a leather sofa and sat.

“Where is the first-aid kit?” I asked Victor.

Victor pointed toward a hallway near the back of the loft.

“In the master bathroom, behind the mirror.”

“Get it, please,” I said.

“I will handle it, Ms. Hayes,” Victor said.

“No,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

“You need to watch the security monitors and make sure we weren’t followed.”

Victor looked at Arthur, waiting for confirmation.

Arthur gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.