Darren and Marilyn took Grant to a private safehouse far away from the major business areas in the city, but still within public regions.
Darren had suspected that if Gillian's men ever came looking for Grant, they would search the quieter parts of the city and state, so it was best to hide in plain sight.
Staying low was the move for now while on the Steele Complex, his women were hard at work.
The room was alive with heat and hum. Screens blinked in rows, reflecting the faint glow across Rachel's glasses as she leaned over the dashboard like a war general.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, sweat beading on her temple— not from fear, but from the sheer momentum of what was unfolding.
She had created these strategies herself, but implementing it wasn't as easy as anyone would expect.
