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I wait a few beats, then start the truck.

The jerky slides across the console when I pull onto the street. I catch it before it hits the floor. Then immediately wonder why the fuck I bothered.

I give him plenty of distance, keeping his taillights in sight.

He makes two turns.

Then another.

He’s checking to see if he’s being followed.

I continue straight, circle around, and pick him up again four blocks later.

Ten minutes later, I know where he's going. The brick building.

Mercer's car turns into the small lot beside the building.

I take the next street and circle around.

By the time I find a position with a clean sightline, he's already out of the car.

The gun is hidden again.

Mercer looks up at the light burning on the second floor, then approaches the same entrance he used before.

I check the time. 12:36 a.m.

My phone vibrates.

For one stupid second, I expect it to be Callie.

It's Bishop.

I answer. “Yeah.”

“We got something.”

My attention stays on the building. “What?”

“We know who Mercer is looking for.”

That gets my full attention. “Who?”

“A man who goes by Smoke.”

“That supposed to mean something to me?”

“No.”

“Real name?”

“Working on it.”

“What does Mercer want with him?”

The familiar click of Bishop's lighter comes through the phone. “Information.”

“What kind?”