We wake at dawn to sirens.Not close. But not far enough. The sound pulls me from sleep where I was dreaming about a house in the desert, a child laughing, a life without fear.Reality is harsher."We need to move," Damien says. He's already up, already dressed, already checking the window.My body aches. Everything aches. The adrenaline from yesterday's attack has worn off, leaving only pain and exhaustion."I need a minute," I manage."We don't have a minute. If those sirens are for us—if Richard's people tracked us here—" He doesn't finish. Doesn't need to.I drag myself up. Splash water on my face. Try to look like someone who didn't almost die yesterday.Fail spectacularly.The Bank of Nevada opens at nine. We're there at 8:47, waiting in the car like criminals. Which, technically, we might be. Depending on who you ask."You sure James's lawyer will cooperate?" I ask."James trusted him. That's enough for me.""James is dead."The words hang heavy. We still don't know for sure. H
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