WE STOP AT ELISA’S house for what she needs. Her husband and children are probably asleep, so I stay in the car while she creeps inside.
What are you doing, Mig. Elisa has kids. I breathe deeply and close my eyes, offering a silent apology to Elisa’s guides. I ask them to keep her safe. They don’t respond.
She returns to the car with a small bag and we drive away without looking back. Elisa’s fingers are white where she grips the steering wheel, the only indication she gives that she might be second-guessing her decision. We hit the drive-thru and, with nothing left to stall over, we head into the city. As it had on the night I’d come in for the gym bag, my pass gets us inside and the elevator takes us straight to my floor.
“Nice office,” Elisa comments. “Security?”
“No one stopped me
