Rafael shows up an hour earlier than planned.
He doesn’t knock on the usual joke pattern this time.
Just two sharp raps close together.
My heart spikes.
“Who is it?” I call, even though I already know the shape of his shadow under the door.
“It’s me,” he answers. “We have to move. Now.”
I check the peephole anyway.
Cap. Sunglasses. Jaw tighter than usual.
Chain off, lock turned.
I pull the door open.
“What happened?” I ask.
He slips inside, shuts it behind him, automatically flicks the deadbolt and slides the chain back on, like he can put my panic away as easily.
“Too many eyes,” he says. “Our guy spotted a second car that isn’t ours. Different shift. Different brand of cigarette. No one should be that interested in this building.”
I think of the sedan.
The head tilted up to
