Here Comes Trouble Read Free Page B

the scandal of Malcolm’s discharge from the family business. The same people who hadn’t had any problem distancing themselves from Malcolm and his advancements in the technology industry. All the more reason to remain anonymous in his current business capacity and status. Little did they know a lot of them had invested in Malcolm’s new business venture in one form or another. Poetic justice from where he stood.
    The hell with it. He was done living with regrets. Time to face the firing squad.
    ***
    Sheila stood in the middle of Chadwick’s office. A quick survey had her dismissing the wall where two ghastly impressionistic paintings hung over an outdated leather sofa. Very few items occupied the dimly lit room save for the framed mirror over a smaller, burgundy couch against the far wall. Chadwick’s desk was more than ordinary. She set her phone and bracelet on the desk as she bent down, finding the burn mark under the middle drawer that identified the carved piece as a replica. A good one, but still a copy, and Sheila knew her copies.
    Every single book on the bookcase was meticulously placed, not one out of line except . . . “Got you.” She picked up her phone before walking over to slide the too-thick spine of a leather-bound edition of Dante’s
Inferno
forward. She peered behind it. Part of a keypad stared at her as if daring her to decipher its code.
    “Okay, big brother. If this toy of yours doesn’t work, you’ll be figuring out how to break me out of jail.” She pulled the metal decoder from her bra and clamped it onto the keypad on the back of the shelf. The digital readout beeped and blurped, flashing red-lighted numbers across the small screen until a small green light appeared in the bottom corner and a click sounded.
    Sheila jumped as the bookcase moved out toward her before shifting to the right. The lack of sound was a relief, but the time it took to expose the room inside had her wishing she’d ordered soufflés for dinner for the guests.
    She snatched the decoder off the keypad and replaced the books. Fluorescent lights burst to life in the space behind the paneled bookcase, the electric hum and brightness making her wince as she stepped forward into the midst of file boxes.
    The walls were lined with shelves filled with ledgers and crates, and one large metal and very-empty filing cabinet. A stack of various-size frames stood empty in the corner, as if their insides had been ripped out, the wooden pieces left behind like abandoned carcasses.
    The paintings—where were they? She knew he had them. She knew.
    She took another step inside as dim voices echoed in the hall.
    Sheila poked her head into the office, saw the switch on the inside wall that matched the keypad in the bookcase. The office doorknob rattled.
    Pulse pounding in her throat, her eyes went wide as the sound of the key slipping into the lock scraped against her ears like talons against metal. She was too close to stop now. She slapped her hand on the button beneath a small LCD screen inside the vault. The panel slid into place, locking her in.
    The room went dark.
    ***
    “Malcolm.”
    With one word from his father—his name no less—Malcolm’s evening went from crap to complete shit.
    Chadwick Oliver unclipped the rope to step onto the second-floor landing, his bulky frame encased in a tailored suit that cost more than most third world countries would need to feed their population. “I know your grandmother requested your presence, but I’d appreciate you keeping a low profile while you’re here. I don’t think it’s appropriate—”
    “You know what’s great about my life now, Dad?” Malcolm shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the fists that wanted to do nothing more than land a solid punch into his old man’s paunch. “I don’t give a damn what you think anymore.”
    “You always were ungrateful.”
    “Careful, Dad,” Malcolm warned. While he appreciated the opportunity to venture into his