Chapter 5

At five sharp. I watched Claire Morrison exit Pierce Tower’s executive garage. Something felt off seeing such a petite woman climb into a fully loaded Jeep Grand Cherokee L Summit Reserve.

I kept my Porsche Cayenne GTS at a discreet distance, trailing her fifteen minutes north to The Estates at Greenwich Cove – one of those ultra–private communities where homes start at eight figures. Not exactly the neighborhood you’d expect for someone in Operations.

The guard at the limestone gatehouse barely glanced at my Cayenne’s diplomatic plates before waving me through. I fed him some line about visiting a friend from the country club.

I parked a few houses down from where her Jeep sat in a lusated circular driveway. The whole time, I kept asking myself what the hell I was doing. This wasn’t me following people, playing amateur detective.

Maybe it was those telltale marks on her neck. Maybe it was that smudged MAC Russian Red.

Either way, my anxiety was in the driver’s seat now.

Just as I was about to put this ridiculous stalking expedition behind me, another car glided into view.

car I’d recognize anywhere.

Nathan’s Rolls–Royce Cullinan Black Badge.

watch ticked off the

in front of Claire’s

No movement

fingers, I pulled up Nathan’s

instantly, his voice warm through my AirPods.

everything

to keep my voice steady: “Still at the office?

chuckle. “Just left actually. Last–minute thing with Senator Mitchell about that Hudson Yards project. Needed someone from

sounded distant to

Morrison. She knows the

Claire hurry out clutching a

earlier – just conference call fatigue. Claire just got in,

pick up dinner from

I forced myself to breathe.

was completely transparent.

Pure coincidence.

the numbers

the Newport style fountain toward the

Cayenne, something

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