reet, watching warehouse B through a pair of high-powered binoculars. He saw Mitch's men, two

d inside the cavernous warehouse. The black Cadillac Escalade sat in the center o

h a low, powerful rumble. He pulled out of the warehouse, Mitch's tw

signs of bars and restaurants blurring into streaks of color on his windshield. As he approached the d

a halt. His eyes, constantly scanning, d

oli

h glare of a security light. He felt a jolt, a cold shock that had nothing to do wi

oung, with floppy hair. Ethan.

atched, a spectator to a scene he couldn't hear, only see. Ethan was talking a

oat. He waited for her to slap h

gently, pulled her hand free. But she was smiling. A soft, apologetic smile. From Damon's

zzy. Betrayal. Their marriage was a sham, a contract, but the concern he'd felt, the comfort he'd taken in her pr

car behind him honked once

ator, the powerful engine roaring to life. The image of her smilin

n his mind: Divorce. As soon as

line had just gott

h self-importance. "I know all the secrets here. Every Friday, Mr. Sullivan g

yed, impressed awe. "Wow, Ethan. Y

a gentle firmness. "I'm sorry," she'd said, her voice full of regret. "I'm married. I can'

had just witnessed the perfo

ndoned farm, picked up the duffel bag of cash left for him, and drove away. But he didn't go h

ching the black waves crash against the rocks below. The twenty

his phone and

e tonight. Out

antly. OK. Have fun. Be sa

st the dashboard. Instead, he just turned it off, plunging himself into silence. He leaned his he

-