Learning to Trust: Limits by B. B. Roman Page B

me, please."
    Despite my internal conflicts—the last time Roland had paraded me around sleazy rich folks it obviously hadn't gone well—I realized that this was exactly what I needed to do. I was certain that some element of this was highly criminal; I just needed to keep the gears of the organization turning one way or another. I knew Ramón was encouraging it, and that helped me with my decision to cooperate. This was just a transaction, right? Money changing hands. Simple, effective. I was just acting undercover, and sometimes people undercover had to get their hands dirty.
    Roland saw me thinking. I was thankful that he couldn't entirely read my mind. "Pet, you'll be fine. Just be you. Be bold."
    I took a deep breath. It was literally now or never . "I can do it, Roland. I can. I dealt with you at the beginning, right?"
    He smiled with sincerity. "That's right. I knew I could count on you."
    "So where is this taking place?" I decided that it might be nice to forward the information to Ramón .
    "A restaurant ," Roland said. "We'll drop you off down the street and then pick you up once you come out. You'll tell them that you're there to see Mr. Von Williams on behalf of Roland Starland. Very basic."
    Obviously, he was keeping it vague enough to keep me guessing. So much for that plan . There would be no backup if something went wrong, a thought that simultaneously empowered and horrified me. I had to be ready for this, to roll with the punches, to improvise .
    The city passed by us now, the high rises surrounding us with their ominous perfect rows of windows that climbed toward the sky. Traffic was always heavier around these parts, so the progress seemed to slow. And then we turned down a block and the car pulled to the side. Roland leaned forward and put the briefcase in my hands.
    "We're here," he said. "Take this and do a good job for me, okay?" I gripped the handle and almost dropped it after being surprised by the weight. He kissed me firmly, a kiss that actually provided some calm inside of me.
    "I will," I said. I grabbed at my purse.
    "Leave it," Roland said.
    "What about my phone and—"
    "You'll be fine. Just leave it. I'll be waiting for you."
    I didn't argue anymore. "Yeah." His patience seemed to be wearing thin. I left my purse on the seat.
    "It's the building with the white arches, okay? Start walking and you can 't miss it."
    "Okay," I said. I fought to ensure that my heart didn't race out of control. After straightening out my clothes, I opened the door and stepped onto the pavement. Oh yes, we were in the nice part of town. Fancy cars were parked up and down the block—the limo didn't actually look that much out of pl ace after I saw everything else around it.
    "Damnit," I said to myself as I saw the limo away from me . I realized my mistake—my purse had contained the pen with the GPS tracker in it from Ramón . Calling him had been impossible, but the pen would have been perfect. Now it was going off in some random direction, following Roland on his joyride while I did all of the hard work. There was nothing I could do about it now.
    The white arch es stood before me. Unless I had been entirely blind, there w ould have been no way to miss them . I walked onward and felt a pang of nervousness as I saw the limo turn around the corner and out of view . It was gone, vanished just like that. Roland said they'd be back, but now I was truly alone. For one fleeting moment, I thought about just sneaking away with the briefcase. There was more money in there than I'd need the rest of my life. I could just escape from everything and—
    No, I had to stick to the plan.
    Up ahead was a stocky, muscular gentleman, one wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Security .
    There was something really exciting about carrying a briefcase full of ten million dollars. The walk toward the restaurant reminded me of four th grade when I had been in the spelling bee. Every time I got up to approach the lectern for my word,