Later we made love with a hunger tempered by exhaustion. His rhythm was precise and forgiving; he wanted to hold me, not break me. Angel joined us briefly, more of a ghost of presence than a full participant that night—she kissed my shoulder, her mouth soft and familiar, and then retreated to her room with a murmured sleep wish. There was an odd tenderness to that small joining; it felt like a quiet promise that we’d weather storms together even when the fights came from outside.
When the first reports of the money-trace arrived the following morning, they were small and bright: a wire trail that ran through a boutique firm and then branched into accounts with tiny, careful contributions that read like smear purchasing. Conley’s contact had found the buyer, and the buyer had been sending
