“I wasn’t scheduled.”
“You were when you texted me three hours ago asking for everything we’ve got on Voss.”
That finally makes him glance up.
His eyes sweep over my face once.
“Rae kick you out?”
My jaw tightens.
Riot smirks faintly.
“Ah.”
Rev drags a chair over with his boot and drops into it beside me, bottle in hand even though it’s barely mid-morning.
“So,” he says, leaning his elbows on the table, “we talking about the asshole who put hands on Rae?”
My gaze shifts back to the laptop.
“What’ve you got?”
Riot rotates the screen toward us and taps a few keys.
Satellite images fill the screen.
Warehouse layouts.
Security camera stills.
“Voss has been rotating between three properties outside Knoxville,” Riot says, pointing to one of the maps. “But this one’s his base. Warehouse near the industrial yard. Two floors. Cameras on the corners and one over the loading dock.”
He zooms in.
“Four men rotating security. Two usually on the floor, one upstairs with Voss, one watching the lot.”
Rev whistles softly under his breath.
“That’s cozy.”
I lean forward slightly, studying the building.
Entry points.
Sight lines.
Blind spots.
“Tonight,” I say.
Rev glances at me.
“You planning on asking Mason first?”
“Mason already knows.”
Rev nods once like that checks out.
