She almost considered removing it, but she didn't. When the officer finally returned, he nodded toward the door. “He'll be brought out shortly.” Dianna swallowed. “Thank you.” She entered the visitation room and sat at the table. The room was painfully ordinary. Pale walls. Bolted-down furniture. A thick pane of glass dividing some visitors from inmates, while others were permitted to sit across from one another under supervision. Dianna had been told she could have a face-to-face visit today. She didn't know whether that was a blessing or a punishment. Then the door opened. Jackson walked in. For one second, Dianna forgot how to breathe. He looked worse than she had imagined. The swelling around his cheek had darkened overnight. The cut above his eyebrow was covered with a small dressing, and there was still faint bruising along his jaw. He moved carefully, almost imperceptibly favoring one side of his body. But it was his eyes that hurt her most. They wer

Emiliano had learned one thing about Harrera Marcelo over the years: the man was dangerous when he was angry, but he was even more dangerous when he was calm. And lately, Harrera had been far too calm. That was what bothered Emiliano. He sat behind the wheel of his car, parked beneath the shadow of an unfinished building, watching the black truck several vehicles ahead. He had been following it for nearly forty minutes, keeping enough distance not to attract attention. The truck had left one of Harrera's properties shortly after dawn, and Emiliano had noticed something strange about it. It wasn't carrying the usual security equipment. No visible escort. No markings. Nothing that suggested it was important. Which, in Emiliano's experience, usually meant it was very important. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the truck turned onto another road. "Come on," he muttered. "Show me where you're going." The truck continued through the outskirts of the city,

His breathing quickened. He checked the door. Then the hallway. Then the security monitors. Nothing. Still, the feeling remained. Someone was watching. He reached for his phone again and called his father. Don Marcelo answered. "What is it?" "Emiliano." A pause. "What about him?" "He followed one of the trucks." Silence. "He found the compound." Don Marcelo's voice changed. "How close?" "Too close." "What does he know?" "Not enough." "Then why are you panicking?" Harrera's jaw clenched. "I'm not panicking." His father gave a humorless laugh. "You sound like a man who is." Harrera looked at the shattered glass. He said nothing. Don Marcelo sighed. "Listen to me carefully. Panic will make you careless." "I know." "No, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be calling me like this." Harrera closed his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" "Think." "I am thinking." "Then stop thinking about Juliana for five minutes and thi

He had hoped the sedative would make the transfer easier. He hated himself for even considering it. But he also knew that if Andrew remained conscious, he would fight every step of the way. Harrera made the decision. "Do it." Andrew barely had time to understand what was happening before the guards restrained him again. Harrera remained outside the room. He couldn't watch. Minutes passed. Then the door opened. "He's unconscious." Harrera swallowed. "Is he breathing normally?" "Yes." Harrera nodded. "Get him into the truck." They carried Andrew out beneath a covering, shielding him from anyone who might happen to see. Harrera followed. The convoy was already waiting. Three large trucks stood in a line. Two carried ordinary goods. The third had been prepared specifically for Andrew. Harrera looked at it. For one terrifying moment, he thought about stopping everything. Then he heard a vehicle approaching the compound. Everyone froze.

Raphael didn't answer immediately. Then he said, "Come back." "I can't." "Emiliano." "I said I can't." His voice cracked with frustration. "I was right there." He stared at the empty road. "I was right there, Raphael." There was something different in his voice now. Not anger. Defeat. "I thought I had them." Raphael sighed. "You still have the route." "No." Emiliano shook his head. "Whatever I was following isn't there anymore." He ended the call. For several minutes, he remained inside the car. He couldn't understand it. His instincts had been right. They had been right about Harrera. Right about the truck. Right about the compound. Right about the convoy. So why had everything disappeared? He looked down at his hands. For the first time, doubt crept into his mind. What if I'm wrong? What if Harrera really had nothing to do with Andrew? What if all the suspicious movements were simply business? What if he had allowed h