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“Security office, second-level,” she replied. “They’re gone. I don’t have them on any camera.”
“What?”
Harper’s disbelief was echoed by the rest.
First a security guard, now two of their targets simply vanish right under their nose? What was going on?
Friday. Safe House, New York City, NY.
Daar watched the clock in the corner of the screen tick on. The morning news was nearly over with.
Peter should have called by now.
Damn it.
Why was everything falling apart?
His phone rang and Daar jumped at the sound. He scowled at the name on the screen.
Maxwell.
What did he want?
Daar considered not answering it. This had all begun with that call at the airport. That was the exact moment when things started going wrong.
But all Maxwell had done was give him a heads up.
Reluctantly, Daar clicked the screen.
“Yes?”
“I have it on good authority you’re having some trouble.” While Maxwell’s tone was grave, Daar had no doubt the man would be sporting a gleeful grin as soon as they hung up.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come now, Daar. We both know you’ve fallen from favor. How’s it feel? Ready to come to the other side?”
Daar hung up.
Answering had been a mistake.
Desperate for some news, he tapped Peter’s contact and initiated the call.
It rang a few times before going to voicemail.
“Fuck,” Daar muttered.
He strode into the next room where Amaar was busy tapping away at his laptop. There were furrows on his brow, which was unusual. Normally he was the epitome of calm.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Daar asked.
Amaar’s hands stopped moving. He blew out a breath then reached up to remove earbuds. His dark gaze met Daar’s, and he braced for yet more bad news.
“I have received a warning of sorts. My mother called and said two men harassed her last night. They mentioned your name,” Amaar said.
Daar sucked in a breath. How?
Amaar bowed his head. “I’m compromised, sir. I’m sorry.”
