We left his office suite the same way we’d gotten to it—walking up two flights then taking the elevator down to the parking garage.
“Wait there,” Trent said when we got off the elevator, pointing to a recess which led to the door to the fire stairs.
I did, and watched as he checked his car for bugs, trackers, or any other additions he didn’t want, like a bomb of some sort, I suspected. Not a happy thought. Apparently everything was okay because he beckoned for me to join him. I huddled in the passenger seat, keeping my head down, as we drove to the high-rise. We ended up in another parking garage. This time we didn’t bother with any subterfuge involving stairs, but went straight up to the condo, which was a good thing since it was on the tenth floor.
“Damn,” I said when we walked in. “I’m going to feel so out of place here.”