“What’s his name?”
“Vincent Huxley.”
I knew the name.
Corporate defense. Expensive. Quiet reputation. Men like Huxley didn’t hold sensitive material unless they understood exactly how dangerous it was.
“Does he know what’s in the files?” I asked.
“Enough.”
“Enough to sell you out?”
Pierce looked tired suddenly. “Everybody sells eventually.”
“Not everybody.”
His eyes lifted toward mine in the mirror briefly before he looked away again.
The city blurred past outside while my head moved ahead of us. Vale House. Maris missing. Safe house compromised. Somebody escalating before we had fully moved on them ourselves.
That changed things.
Not the target.
The timeline.
My phone rang again.
Dante.
“What?” I answered.
“Cam pulled traffic from three blocks near the safe house,” Dante
