Eight
Bailey’s steel-blue Ferrari was parked on the street behind her Porsche when Nasim returned to his loft. Not so surprising, he supposed; she didn’t have a key card to the building’s underground parking garage, and he’d closed the gates behind him as he left. He wasn’t even sure why exactly, except that they had been closed when he first came to dwell here, and he thought it better to maintain the illusion that the place was unoccupied. Foolish in a way, since anyone watching would have seen the two sports cars drive away earlier this morning, might have noticed the two of them swimming in the rooftop pool, or seen her car parked where it hadn’t been a few days earlier.
That thought made him blink himself back to the roof, just to satisfy himself that there was no one around to obse
