I’m hardly ten minutes away from Daisy and I’m already feeling it—that ice-cold, feral focus that comes over me when I need to get something important done. And right now, nothing could be more important than rescuing Daisy’s mother.
The Palace, as Matt calls it, is a hideout mansion like something out of Scarface. It looks like a house a frat boy would buy if he suddenly woke up with a hundred million dollars. Gaudy, tasteless, and if I remember right, registered to some shell company owned by Matt that he does business through.
I’m crouched across the street in the bushes like a wild cat, surveying tonight’s security, which seems sparse. I only see two men by the gate and one patrolling the grounds. Matt hasn’t had much competition as of late; maybe he’s letting his guard down.
Quietl
