I’d woken to see Karl on the edge of the clearing, his back to me, staring out at the dawn. I’d watched him and I’d felt…

But it didn’t matter what I felt. What mattered, as I’d soon discovered, was how he felt because, with Karl, it was always about that. What he felt. What he wanted. And one night, no matter how wildly romantic, couldn’t change that.

HOPE HISTORY LESSON

HOPE

HISTORY LESSON

I called Benicio the next morning. When he learned I had something to report, he asked me to meet Troy for breakfast and fill him in. In other words, he hadn’t expected results so soon and didn’t want them conveyed over the telephone.

I KEPT AN eye out as I left the building. No one in the gang knew where I was staying—even Guy hadn’t asked. But I could see him putting new recruits under surveillance.

When the cab dropped me off, I saw Troy across the road, standing by a storefront, studying a map. His gaze flicked my way as I got out, but he didn’t budge.

The restaurant was an anonymous little diner, the sort you can find anywhere. I took a booth at the back and had a full coffee cup before Troy came through the door.

He slid in across from me.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. The cloak-and-dagger stuff is just protocol.”

He seemed in no rush to get down to business. We ordered breakfast and he asked how I was settling in, how the apartment was.

“You need anything, don’t be afraid to call,” he said. “When Mr. Cortez opens his wallet, take advantage. I do.”

He gave me some pointers on the neighborhoods—recommending shops and restaurants near my apartment and the club, along with ones to avoid. If I needed a break, he said he’d be happy to squire me around on his night off, maybe get out of the city, show me the area. The invitation was half flirtatious, half friendly, open for me to interpret as I wished.

When breakfast arrived, we shifted to business.

I told Troy what Jaz had said about Guy and his issue with the Cabal.