Grayson didn’t look up from the monitors when the door clicked shut. He didn’t have to. The heavy, disciplined stride belonged to Marcus alone. He had ordered Marcus to track down Francis.
"I found him," Marcus said, his voice a low grate. "Francis is holed up in a motel off the interstate. I’ve pinned the signal. It’s live."
Grayson finally turned, his eyes dark and fixed. He didn’t offer praise; they were beyond the need for it. "Stay on him. Don't let the signal blink."
"Understood."
Grayson stood, the movement fluid and predatory. Before he dealt with the filth outside, he needed a moment of silence. He crossed the hall to the guest suite, pressing his palm flat against the wood before turning the handle with agonizing slowness.
The room was bathed in the soft, milky glow of the
