TanzieI ride along on the back of Dexter’s bike, the leather of his kutte cool against my cheek as I tuck away from the wind. He lets me off about a block from Grave Robber’s headquarters, looking around nervously, worried we were noticed.
“This neighborhood would be shocked not to hear motorcycles,” I say. “I don’t think anyone would notice one in the neighborhood. If I had to guess, they’d be looking for more than one. You should be able to get well out of here before I walk through those gates.”
“Are you … going to be okay?” he asks. “For the record, I think he’s making the wrong call on this one.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. “Thanks,” I say, swallowing it back, forcing myself not to cry. “I care about him, but I know why he sent me away.”
“Grisham has been through a lot and he
