Samantha, with Rick seated beside her, drove the Bentley Continental GT to Worth Avenue. The car fit the street and the building to perfection, and if Rick hadn’t gifted her with it, she would have purchased something like it. She’d long ago learned that blending with marks—clients—was the best way to earn their trust, and she couldn’t very well set up a high-class security business and keep driving a Honda Civic. She hid a smile. Besides, that Civic had been stolen and then, with Stoney’s help, ditched months ago. “Are we going to Tom’s office?” Rick asked, leaning an arm along the window frame. “No. Mine.” She slid into an open spot along the street and put the car in park. “You said you wanted to see it.” His gaze was on the tall building owned by Donner, Rhodes and Chritchenson on the far side of the street. “I do, but—” “Come on. This way,” she interrupted, enjoying his confusion. It didn’t happen very often. “And no business advice.” “I’ll do my damnedest.”
