Edge's POV
5:12 p.m. — Mexico, Hospital
“Tell me you've got something.”
Rafa stood across from me, his phone pressed against his ear.
Someone had thrown an unknown substance into my daughter's face, nearly killing her.
Then another bastard had photographed her lying unconscious in intensive care.
And Dr. Malcolm Pierce was still out there.
Rafa ended his call.
“The orderly is talking.”
“Who paid him?”
“A woman approached him outside the hospital.
"Offered five thousand dollars for a photograph of Ava.”
“Description?”
“Dark hair. Mid-thirties. Spoke Spanish with a local accent.”
“Isabel?”
“Possibly. Authorities are reviewing the footage.”
I rubbed my jaw.
“Did he know Ava was critically ill?”
“Yes.”
“Son of a bitch.”
My phone vibrated.
Train.
“Prez, Chain found somet
