Kayla's POV

My train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the honking of a car horn. I reached into my wallet and pulled out the business card Harrison had given me.

It was an elegant gold card, bearing the name "Richard Buffe" instead of Harrison Morris on the front. Flipping it over, I found a handwritten string of numbers on the back.

Staring at those familiar numbers, I opened my phone and gazed at the contact I had saved for six years, letting out a long sigh.

"We've arrived, miss."

The ...