Chapter 6 - Inside the Perimeter of Marcus Thorne's Office
The office smelled of roasted coffee beans and expensive paper. Thorne turned away from the glass as I walked in, his dark suit impeccably pressed, the charcoal jacket fitted to his shoulders without a single crease. He didn't offer a handshake, which I appreciated; physical contact between strangers had lost its appeal twenty-four hours ago. He set his mug down on a massive walnut desk that looked heavy enough to anchor a ship, motioning toward one of two leather armchairs positioned opposite him.
"You're prompt," Thorne said, settling back into his own chair and lacing his fingers over his flat stomach. "Most people who receive that card spend at least three days deciding whether I'm a private investigator, a corporate raider, or something worse."
"I don't have three days to spend wondering," I replied, remaining standing for a moment before sitting down in the leather chair. The leather was soft, sinking slightly beneath my weight. "Arthur fired me by midnight. Julian Vance has my home address from the restaurant's emergency contact sheet. And I have forty-two dollars in my checking account. That concentrates the mind."
Thorne's dark eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of genuine approval crossing his features. "Julian didn't waste time. He contacted Arthur within twenty minutes of leaving the restaurant, demanding your termination and threatening a lawsuit against the establishment unless they purged all record of your employment. Arthur folded, of course. Men like Arthur always fold when they hear the word litigation."
"I figured as much," I said, resting my hands on the armrests. My fingers felt light without a coffee cup or a tray to balance. "So why am I here, Mr. Thorne? You didn't give me that card because you admire my left hook."
"Partly because of the hook," Thorne admitted, a dry, humorless smile touching his mouth. "Mostly because Julian Vance is a liability to several ventures I'm currently stabilizing. He treats people like movable furniture. He thinks a gold chain and a few tattoos make him untouchable, but his family's logistics firm is leveraged to the hilt, and he uses intimidation to keep subcontractors from looking at his books. I need someone who can get close enough to see how he operates without raising his guard—someone he wouldn't suspect of being anything more than background noise."
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"You want me to spy on a man who already wants to ruin me," I said, the words falling flat and heavy between us.
"I want you to help me build a file that forces him to back off permanently," Thorne corrected, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the desk. "He won't stop at firing you. Men with Julian's temperament escalate when they're publicly humiliated. If you stay in this city, you need protection, and you need leverage. I can provide both. But it requires an arrangement."
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