Chapter 59
Calvin strolled casually through the wrecked hotel room, one hand in his coat pocket, the other running along the jagged crack in the drywall. His eyes lingered on the dented headboard, the twisted sheets on the bed, and the half-ripped curtain barely hanging on its rail. “This is gonna cost you a pretty penny, Reeds,” Calvin said, arching a brow at Quinn with mock sympathy. “The cleanup crew’s gonna charge extra for what happened in here.” Quinn tightened his jaw, arms crossed. He didn’t say a word. Then Calvin’s burner phone buzzed. He glanced down, smirking. “Aw, Petra. You’ll never believe—” He stopped mid-sentence, his expression shifting as he listened. “Petra, slow down. I can’t understand you when you speak Russian that fast.” Quinn’s stomach dropped. That tone in Calvin’s voi
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