THE KID NAMED ANTHONY, the assistant, peered around the edge of the door, brown eyes wide and glassy. Angel thought the guy always looked startled, like a deer trapped in a meadow by a circle of lions.
Angel didn’t ask the kid why he was there. He didn’t need to. He’d been watching the clock and knew.
Anthony’s gaze slipped over the child and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny throat.
Angel’s hand tightened on the AR-15 he held, wondering if the kid would run. Then he blinked, shocked by his own thought.
Anthony stepped through the door, pushing it closed and leaning against it. He finally looked at Angel. “He wants you to take them across the lake and wait for him to call.”
Angel gave the nervous assistant stone face. He knew from years of adopting the expression th
