Martin's POV
The house was too quiet when I returned, something I don't usually get. As I stepped inside, I loosened the collar of my shirt, and walked into the living room. That’s when I saw Marcus seated on the couch, his shoes off, his eyes glued to the screen, remote in hand, flipping through channels like that's what I paid him for. I arched my eyebrow.
“Why are you not in the hospital?” I asked, tossing my keys on the table.
He barely looked up. “Mirabella came back, and I left,” he said casually.
“And?” I asked him since he refused to continue.
“She told me she could handle it, and the old man didn’t look like he was dying anymore, so I figured I wasn’t needed.”
I studied him for a second, then I asked the real question, “About the tracker I planted in her phone. Any update?”
