Of course. A guy like Tyson—a leech who preyed on women—would have a talent for identifying wealthy, attractive targets.

If he recognized me, it meant he’d done his homework. He might’ve even considered targeting me before.

"What do you think I’m here for?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tyson didn’t flinch. "It’s about Maya, right?"

So, he already knew. No point in beating around the bush. "Yeah," I said ...