In a black SUV parked down the street from the Red Hook safehouse, a private investigator adjusted his telephoto lens. He snapped a rapid burst of photos as Marcus Thorne opened the heavy steel door.
Inside the car, Dante Ricci’s phone pinged. He opened the image file. It was grainy, but the face was unmistakable.
“Well, well,” Dante murmured, zooming in on Marcus. “The ‘Jailer’ has a secret.”
He dialed his head of security. “We found them. Thorne is hiding the asset in Brooklyn. Get the team ready. I want her secured before the wedding. If she resurfaces publicly, my stock options go to zero.”
Inside the loft, Dominic Valerius received a frantic encrypted alert from his surveillance network. He turned to Marcus, his face pale.
“We’re blown,” Dominic hissed. “Ricci’s men are three blocks away. We have ten minutes before they breach the door.”