Chapter 92 Ghosts In The Rearview

Chicago's night stretched endless, the kind of darkness that swallowed secrets whole. Mason sank into the Bentley's leather seat, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day's bullshit. The charity luncheon had been a special kind of torture – all those handshakes meaning nothing, smiles faker than a three-dollar bill. Eve watched him from the corner of her eye, cataloging the micro-expressions that flickered across his face like heat lightning. She'd gotten good at that, too good maybe.