Adrian picked it up, turned it face down, and slid it into his pocket.

“Pack your laptop and any physical files you need,” he said.

“My driver is waiting in the private garage downstairs.”

I stood up, my legs feeling weak.

“Is this legal?” I asked.

“I am protecting my employee from a documented threat,” Adrian said.

He walked to the office door and opened it, signaling for his personal security guard.

“There is nothing illegal about keeping you safe.”

I went to my desk in the outer office and gathered my belongings.

I placed my work laptop, my charger, and three thick binders of shipping logs into my leather tote bag.

These were the primary logistics ledgers for our Great Lakes distribution routes.

I had been meaning to review them anyway, as some of the tonnage reports from the past quarter seemed slightly off.

Adrian stood by the glass doors, watching me silent and alert.

We took the private elevator directly down to the basement garage.

The air down there smelled of damp concrete and exhaust fumes.

A heavy armored sedan was waiting, its engine idling with a low purr.