Carter Reed

night over dinner that he trained his men to be ghosts. They were supposed to adapt and blend into any environment; otherwise, he wouldn’t hire them for his security team. He never used them himself. When he left, he only had one man with him, named Gene. I never saw Gene, but I heard his voice a few times when he would call for Carter.
    Gene was an enigma to me, but everything about Carter’s life was a mystery to me.
    When Mike opened my door, I gave him a small nod in thanks and walked inside. Theresa’s doorman gave the guards a scared look, but he opened the door for me without a word. His hand trembled as he did so, and he flushed when he saw that I noticed it. I wanted to murmur my understanding, but I didn’t. I ducked my head down and followed him to the elevator. He pushed the button for Theresa’s floor and bid me a goodnight. He said that he would be announcing my arrival to her over an intercom from the front desk.
    As with Mike, I gave him a nod in thanks as well, then stepped back and waited until the elevator stopped at her floor.
    Theresa opened her door down the hall and stuck her head out. She waved at me. “Hey there! I’ve got a pizza on the way and two bottles of wine being chilled. I hope you like wine. I like the sweet stuff. I’m not a dry girl.”
    The ball of nerves inside loosened at her easygoing laugh. As I stepped into her apartment, I was taken aback by the warmth. It was a three bedroom apartment with a simple layout.
    “You want a tour?”
    I flashed a grin. “I’d love one.”
    “Here’s the kitchen.” She waved to the room we were standing in, with an island counter in the middle. “There’s the living room.” She had a white plush sectional sofa that curved around one corner of the room with a loveseat next to it. The wall was covered with a large flat-screen. She led the way through the living room and opened her glass doors that led onto a large patio. “Here’s my balcony. Nothing special, but I like the view.” It was over a courtyard that was in the middle of the surrounding buildings. A pool glistened up at us.
    “And here’s my bedroom.” She took two steps and opened another set of glass doors. We stepped inside to a large bedroom. She had matched her white comforter with the white couches in the living room. As she showed me her bedroom and the other two rooms used as an office and an exercise room, I noticed there were no guest bedrooms. The last stop was her public bathroom. She opened the door. “I’ve got a private bath off my room, but you can use this one. I never have guests so it’ll be like your own bathroom whenever you come over.”
    A twinge of pleasure spread through me. She was already planning for the next time we hung out.
    Her buzzer went off and she went over to it. “Yeah?”
    The man on the other side spoke, “Your pizza is here.”
    “Okay. Let him up. I’ll be waiting.”
    “Yes, Miss Webber.”
    She grinned and shook her head as she turned to me. “He always calls me Miss Webber. I’ve been living in this building since I was three. You’d think Jarvis would start calling me by my first name, but he never does.”
    “You’ve lived here your whole life?”
    She nodded as she collected her wallet from her purse. “Yep. My parents moved in when my dad got a new architect job. Then after they died, I didn’t want to leave the building. I did downgrade to this apartment, but I like this building. It’s home. Known all the neighbors all my life. There’s not much turnover here.”
    My eyes went wide. She downgraded? I could never afford a place like this, not with the salary I earned as Mr. Hudson’s assistant. Then I comprehended the rest of what she had said. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your parents.”
    She shrugged as she opened the door. “It’s fine. It was a car accident. I was told that they didn’t feel any pain. A truck blindsided them.”
    I heard the hitch in her throat.
    The elevator sounded its arrival and she stepped out to pay for the pizza. When he left, she closed the door behind her with a large steaming pizza box in her hand. I wasn’t sure what to say. I understood grief and death, but I didn’t understand her lifestyle. For the most part, I grew up in a one-bedroom with AJ. Mallory and Ben grew up with their parents, but they lived in poverty. All three of us had fought our way out of it. I’d been the most successful, but I would never feel comfortable in a home like this. Carter’s