“Then let’s go.”
After 6-hours, it is close to morning time. We have met a boy named Sabastian, who as promised drove from Liston Hills to Barfa and as Kylie said she would arrange, we had a group of bikers that helped us from Barfa to a place called Kanla. The town is dead and quiet, perfect for Mero to hide in plain sight and Marco will never think to look so close to the Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club.
Mero is sitting on the blue and grey sofa, as Gabriel makes his famous coffee in the kitchen and I am standing by the wall stretching my legs while Michel is trying to fix the heater by the door.
“Maybe we should talk about why Marco wants your liver,” Michel says, not beating around the bush.
“He saw a video with me talking to Elisa the day Jack Creston was kidnapped.”
“Elisa? What
