BLOODLINE OF THE MOON
Getting too close to the girl was never part of the deal.
The rooftop door opened, and in walked Benito, my tech guy. Skinny, twitchy, always sweating, even in winter. But his brain? Priceless.
He carried his laptop like a newborn, typing as he walked.
“I’ve got a trace,” he said, not bothering to sit. “I tracked Caspian’s last known coordinates,” he said.
I looked up at him instantly, my pulse kicking up again.
“And?”
Benito turned the screen to me. A map glowed on the display, with heat signatures and surveillance data pinpointed in red.
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