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.

ticked off the seconds as I sat there, paralyzed.

silently in front of

No movement

trembling fingers, I pulled up Nathan’s contact.

voice warm through

everything

my voice steady: “Still at the office? You weren’t feeling great earlier maybe come

chuckle. “Just left actually. Last–minute thing with Senator Mitchell about that

bring?” My voice sounded

knows the numbers inside out.”

clutching a

“Don’t worry about earlier – just conference call fatigue. Claire

I’ll pick up dinner from Jean–Georges on my way

hanging up, I forced myself

tone was completely transparent. Nothing

Pure coincidence.

impromptu request. Claire being the

the Newport style fountain toward the main

Cayenne, something made me pause.

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