Not when things got ugly.
Not when blood got involved.
But Flick?
She moved closer.
Like loving broken things came naturally to her.
The safehouse door opened.
Rook stood waiting inside.
Expression grim.
“Conference room,” he said. “Now.”
“Marshal Ava and the child are now in protection. You don’t have to worry about her.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Because from what I knew about Rook, he only used that tone when things were bad.
Very bad.
Trigger shut the door behind us as Wolf muttered, “Please tell me Mercer’s dead.”
Rook tossed a file onto the table.
“No.”
The room went still.
Then he looked directly at Flick.
“We finally identified what your father stole.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach instantly.
Flick slowly sat down beside me.
“What was it?”
Rook opened the file.
Photographs.
Politicians.
Military officers.
Bank records.
Crime scene images.
Children.
Jesus Christ.
