Grant reaches up, pressing his finger against the device. His expression, usually carved from stone, shifts. A sharp line of tension appears between his eyebrows.
"Repeat that," Grant says quietly into his lapel microphone.
I stop walking.
Grant listens for another three seconds. Then, he looks directly at me.
"Sir," Grant says, his voice completely devoid of its usual calm. "Lobby security just called. Audrey left the penthouse."
The air in the motel room vanishes.
"What do you mean she left?" I ask, the laptop feeling very heavy under my arm. "The elevator requires biometric clearance."
"She used the intercom. She told the guard I was meeting her in the lobby. He unlocked the doors." Grant takes a step toward me, lowering his voice so Russo can't hear. "She took a ride-share from the front of the building. The security team tracked the car’s GPS."
"Where is she?"
"She’s here, sir. She just pulled into the parking lot of this motel."
A violent, irrational spike of panic hits my chest.
I don't say a word. I shove the laptop into Grant’s chest, turn, and push the motel room door open.
The cold wind hits me instantly. The parking lot is cracked asphalt, littered with old cigarette butts and patches of dirty ice.
A black sedan is idling near the entrance.
The back door opens, and Audrey steps out.
She is wearing a dark coat over a turtleneck, her hair pulled back, her face pale against the gray afternoon light. She looks entirely out of place in this neighborhood. She looks like a target.
She sees me immediately.
She stops walking, her boots planted firmly on the asphalt. She doesn't look scared. She looks furious.
I cross the distance between us in long, rapid strides. The anger radiating from me is so absolute it feels like a physical weight in the air.
I stop two feet in front of her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, my voice harsh and completely stripped of its usual control.
"I could ask you the same question," she fires back, tilting her head up to meet my glare. "I saw the notification on your tablet. You tracked Simon’s investigator."
"And your first instinct was to lie to my security team, leave a secure building, and take a cab to the South Loop?" I step closer, invading her space, trying to use my physical presence to intimidate her into understanding the sheer stupidity of what she just did. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this neighborhood is? Do you have any idea what Simon would do if he knew you were out here unprotected?"
"I am not unprotected," she snaps, her voice rising. "You’re here."
"I am here to neutralize a threat to you!"
"And I am here to neutralize a threat to you!"
The words echo in the cold air.
I freeze.
The anger in my chest hits a wall. I stare at her, my brain struggling to process the sentence.
"What?" I ask quietly.
