Becky's POV
As we rebuilt following the ambush, the safehouse seemed smaller than it had ever been. Still feeling the surge, I leaned against the kitchen counter. Not because Keith had outwitted us, but rather because of his seeming knowledge, the meeting with him had rocked me. He had talked with the assurance of someone who thought he was untouchable, as if our attempts to find him and Davenport were little more than a nuisance.
Leo was seated at the little dining table, deep in contemplation, staring at a point on the wall. Since we got back, he had been silent; I knew that, like me, the failed effort was weighing hard on him. Always the one with the strategy, he kept things going when all looked to be falling apart. But tonight he seemed tired as well.
Marcus shouted from his vantag
