Daphne lowered her binoculars from her perch on the rooftop across from Black Jack’s. She’d watched Landon leave, noted the way he’d scanned his surroundings, the confident set of his shoulders. Even now, knowing someone wanted him dead, he moved with arrogance.
It was infuriating. And oddly compelling.
She packed her surveillance equipment methodically, mind racing. Forty-eight hours. That’s all she had before Alexei took over. And Alexei wouldn’t hesitate like she had. He wouldn’t get distracted by blue eyes and a magnetic smile.
And for some reason, she didn’t like the idea of someone other than her killing Landon Foster.
Her phone rang. She answered without checking the caller ID.
“Report,” came the cold voice.
“Contact made,” she said flatly. “Target is aware but intrigued. I’ve
