Zander
The dark sedan never made a mistake.
That was what bothered me.
Most people being followed eventually did something predictable. They’d stop for gas. Pull into a grocery store. Make an unnecessary turn because they’d noticed someone behind them. They’d look in their mirrors a little too often.
This driver did none of those things.
Nikos stayed two cars back, blending into the late-afternoon traffic while feeding me updates through my Bluetooth earpiece.
“Still heading east.”
“Any plates?” I asked, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office.
“Stolen.”
I closed my eyes.
“Again?”
“Again.”
Of course they were.
“Any idea who’s inside?”
“Windows are tinted.”
I drummed my fingers against the glass, watching employees filter out of the building below.
“St
