Less than thirty minutes later, we step out of the house as our cleanup crew walks in to do their part of the job. Damn, I love it when shit runs smoothly. We're a well-oiled machine, my team and I—everyone in sync, no questions asked, no hesitation. I roll my neck, the tension melting away as I sink into the backseat of my Phantom.
Lorenzo gets into the passenger seat with his usual ease, and the driver promptly fires up the engine. Just as I'm settling in, my phone buzzes. I raise a brow at the ID. "Rafael, to what do I owe this displeasure?" Lorenzo shakes his head up front, drawing a smile from me.
"I sent a brief to your email. There's a missing girl I need you to look into," Rafael answers, getting straight to the point—exactly how I like it.
"A missing girl," I repeat slowly. Oh, he fucking didn't.
