The Knight Holdings lobby was forty-one floors below the executive suite and a twelve-minute drive from the federal courthouse under normal Los Angeles traffic conditions.
Lucian made it in seven.
I know because I was in the passenger seat watching the speedometer and the clock simultaneously with the specific bifurcated focus of a woman whose legal brain was tracking the implications of Daniel Prescott's existence while her maternal instincts were doing something considerably less organized and considerably more urgent.
"He can't get past lobby security without a biometric clearance," Lucian said, his voice the controlled, operational version, the one he used when the situation required precision rather than feeling. "Marcus updated the protocols after the tower siege. Every visitor re
