"Hargrove is gone," I say. "Russian extraction team. Two men."
"Damn it."
"We lost him."
"We lost the man," I say. "We didn't lose the data."
I reach into my pocket.
I pull out a phone.
Hargrove’s phone.
Alessandro stares at it. "How?"
"Bumped into him on the terrace. Sleight of hand. Learned it from Rory."
A slow smile spreads across Alessandro’s face. It’s genuine. It reaches his eyes.
"You pickpocketed a City Councilman."
"He dropped it," I lie. "I was just returning it. Eventually."
Alessandro laughs. It’s a short, startled sound.
"Let's go," he says. "Take us home."
We walk to the exit. The crowd parts again. The photographers flash their bulbs.
We get in the car. The door closes, shutting out the noise.
"Home," Alessandro tells the driver.
He doesn't specify which home. He doesn't have to.
I look at the phone in my hand. I look at Alessandro.
The mark on his neck is dark against his white collar.
My mark.
He leans his head back against the seat. He closes his eyes.
"We have them," he whispers.
"Yeah," I say. "We have them."
I take his hand. I lace our fingers together.
The car moves into the night.
And for the first time, I don't feel like a prisoner.
I feel like a partner.
Chapter Twenty
KILLIAN
