“We just call him the young wrecker, like I told you.”
That meant something to Marish. Itana could tell, because he became very still—not frozen, but with a kind of predatory stillness, as if the tiger she had seen in his eyes earlier had spotted its prey.
The nickname didn’t mean anything to her, but it nagged at her; she felt like she should recognize it.
“Does he give you missions, or just pep talks?”
“Pep talks, mostly. The jobs come from someone who works for him, a bodyguard, I think. Sometimes the young wrecker will be the one to tell you that there’s money coming into your account to help carry out a job, or as a bonus for a job well done.”
“What’s the account number where they send you that money? And the bank routing number?”
The terrorist told him. Marish also got two more
