48
“Kira?” Rob said again.
He glared at his phone as he realized she had hung up on him. Something he had sent her must have set her off somehow. He knew her too well to think otherwise.
“Where are you going?” he muttered to himself as he scratched at his tangled mass of brown curls beneath the hood of his favorite, food-stained sweatshirt.
A half-empty—well, mostly empty—bag of Cheetos sat on the dining room table nearby, surrounded by empty cans of Red Bull. A chemical cheese smell lingered on the air. And on his breath.
None of the five locations had jumped out at Rob in particular. All of them seemed either too vague, or too obvious. The Procurer had ties to all of them. But one of them must mean something to Kira…
His fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop Leia as he put
